watching a good surfer makes me miss home, strangely. it makes miss fresh corduroy on a crisp bluebird morning, untracked pow in the bowls. the way a surfer carves into a wave, so clean and pure. there’s such a strong parallel to skiing in that moment.
i went to ocean beach this morning, with a stop at trouble coffee on the way. to scribble and think and watch the waves. i don’t know why i didn’t expect to watch the surfers, but there were so many! i was completely mesmerized by them.














