Yesterday, I met Sam. I was out with my camera looking for surfers to photograph. We had about a 15 mph wind, blowing out of the east. That is not ideal for waves here, but bad conditions don’t stop local surfers. It’s called wind chop, and the dedicated, will venture out and catch wave after wave. It’s all about the stoke. That’s one of the reasons Florida surfers are such epic wave riders. The conditions go from flat, to windy, to thick fast slabs, that dump over a foot of sand. There’s not a lot of in between. A Florida surfer need not be transplanted to be a great athlete, but often, if moved from their circumstances, to the GOOD waves of the Pacific, well, the name Kelly Slater says it all.
Sam lives on my old block.
But people kept moving to the island and the lifestyle change was too much for me. I could no longer fish in front of my house. It seemed like there was a new sign and a new law, everyday. Those condos were built behind me and my view of the dunes and trees, twisted by years of hurricanes were gone forever. It shocked me.
I ran to Costa Rica.
Meeting him has helped to shift, that last bit of perception, enabling me to let go.