He and his brother had scraped together what they had to make this trip happen. It started with a flight from Anchorage and Boise respectively, followed by a 32-hour train ride. Next, they had to convince a friend to drive themselves, four surfboards, and enough gear for two weeks in Mexico from Los Angeles to San Diego. All that, just to get to the rental car.

          They had notched out two weeks of solitude south of the border, with no plans except surf, drink tequila, and eat fish. The latter two came with ease, it was the first objective they would soon learn that seemed to challenge them. Not because of the lack of surf, but because of the consistent and overwhelming size.

          Upon arrival, the routine drive along the poor excuse of a road from their campsite led them to the spot. Stumbling out of the rented minivan, they each lit a cigarette as they crested the hill. The vantage point from the top was a familiar one for him from a trip the year before, and he was excited to share the view with his brother. After several setbacks getting to this point, they agreed without hesitation it was all worth it.

          The view greeted the travelers with a solid swell that looked about head high and pumping. They were psyched. Running back to the minivan, they rushed to unstrap the boards. The week of travel and adventure just to get to this spot had built an overwhelming sense of anticipation. The last of their cigarettes were sucked down, as sunblock was smeared on, all while they performed the balancing act of changing into a wetsuit using a towel to keep from exposing all of themselves to each other and the harsh sun.

          As much as he remembered about the spot, the one thing he must have forgotten sometime during the past year was the deception. From up on the hill, a few hundred yards from the point and with no one in the line-up for reference, it was impossible to get a reliable sense of the size of the surf. He was promptly reminded of this fact upon paddling out.

          Luckily, this spot had a deep channel along the point that allowed for them to paddle out completely dry. Before making it to the line-up, he knew his brother was well beyond his comfort zone. It was this discomfort combined with the fact that it was only the first day that they decided to have a very brief surf. He caught a few long waves while watching and making sure his brother got one solid wave to return him safely to shore.

          That wave eventually came, and they returned to the minivan with the tone set for the trip. It was going to be a heavy one. Long gone were the ideas of casually enjoying the pristine waters all to themselves. Instead, a new mentality developed, one that required a stretch of their comfort zones. After driving back to camp, and with this new plan of attack in mind, they fell asleep. With bellies full of cheap tequila, and rice and bean burritos, they dreamt of what the next day had in store.

          The rough dirt road they had traveled the day before rattled them awake on their approach to the spot. Again, with cigarettes in hand, they made their way to the top of the hill to see what the spot offered today. He made especially sure to remember the deceptive nature of the view and assumed whatever he saw was much bigger than how it appeared. And it appeared big. Bigger than the day before by far.

          His brother knew it was beyond his limit, so the brother opted for a slow morning with the guitar, cigarettes, coffee, and a spectacular south of the border view.

          He had different plans. He had decided from the moment they got in the minivan that he was ready to push his limits.

          Unfortunately, due to the original destinations from which they started their journeys, the boards they were able to bring on the trip were not their ideal ‘go-to’ quiver. The options they had were a 9’2” heavy longboard, a crazy finless contraption measuring in at roughly 7’, a poorly self-shaped (intentionally) asymmetrical measuring 6’2” on the left side, and a well-used but trusted 7’0” single fin.

          With obvious flaws of most of the boards, given the conditions, he opted for the 7’ single fin. He was well familiar with the board, having ridden it religiously for years. It had served him well in a wide range of surf, including a previous trip through Baja, all the way up through the Pacific Northwest. Never, had it been tested under his feet in such sizeable surf.

          During the pre-surf preparations, he came up with a plan. By hugging the rocky point, he could get sucked out in the current, escaping the impending pounding from the surf. Once out far enough, or most likely well beyond what he thought was ‘far enough’, he could paddle parallel to the shore and line up with the natural markers on the shore that indicated the perfect takeoff spot. With no one else in the ocean, and the only person within eyesight on shore with a guitar and cigarette, he had no need to be picky with his wave selection. He intended to wait for the best of the best and to play it safe once he caught it. By riding it all the way to the shore, not only would he get one hell of a ride, but he could skip the brutal paddle back out by running along the shore to the channel he initially paddled out in. This plan was exactly what happened.

          Upon making it out far enough, well beyond far enough, he realized what he had gotten into. The view from the hill had successfully deceived him once again, and he now found himself in surf well past his comfort zone. These were waves of consequence, and he was alone in every sense. But he remained calm. It was in this mindset he recognized, there is a space that resides between the comfort zone and the stress zone; the stretch zone.

          This is where he sat, pushing his limits but doing so with poise and clarity, and a complete lack of external pressure. As he sat by himself out there, the horizon disappeared and reappeared as the mountains of water rolled through completely oblivious to his existence. He was intensely focused. His mind was firing, as he steadied his breath, and read every ripple of each wave that rolled through. Knowing exactly what he was looking for, he was in no rush to compromise.

          “Deeper,” he thought, “I need to sit deeper.”

          The walls of water that initially looked on the verge of crashing down actually held up for the ideal ride. So he did just that, paddled deeper into the moment and closer to the peak of the waves. Not a minute later did he see what he was waiting for. One of the biggest, cleanest waves he had seen all day. Without hesitation, he whipped the 7’ single fin into place and paddled hard.

          Perched at the crest of the wave, and staring into the menacing view of the belly of the ocean, he hopped to his feet. The extra foam and length of the board served him well, getting him into the wave comfortably early. At this point, he knew he was going to make it. From the bottom of the wave, he looked to see what was ahead; a wall of water lined up perfectly for him. He cranked off the bottom, leaning into the single fin holding his line on the wave, and was off blowing through each section of the wave all the way to the shore.

          Stumbling up the cobblestone beach he made it back to the channel he initially paddled out at. Between the shakes and trembles of exhilaration, he was ready for more. He jumped into the channel and committed himself to wait for another wave.