The ocean around Manta Carlos was warmer than in Santa Cruz. Common misconception, but the water off of the California coast is actually cold as hell. Manta Carlos was farther north but also had a smaller landmass, and the currents brought up warm water from the equator. In the fall it still meant wetsuit-worthy temperatures, but it was pretty toasty compared to what Simon was used to all year-round.
Back home this had been one of the best things he found to keep his demon quiet. Who would have thought that waves flying at his face would turn out to be a meditative technique? Surfing was one of the only normal things that was constant in his life. One of the prerequisites for Simon moving to the island was that there had to be easy access to surfable waves. Luckily, Manta Carlos had that in spades.
Simon had been eyeing this particular stretch of coast for a few days-- he usually went up the street to a pointbreak closer to the road, but he'd passed by this break and watched a few beautiful rights roll by and figured it was a wave worth trying. So here he was, watching the ocean slip away from high tide to low tide, ready for a sunset session.
A few people were strolling around the beach for the view of the sinking sun. Simon sat on the sand with his board, bar of wax in one hand, raising the bumps on its surface with every passing stroke. He had yet to meet another surfer around, but he was always happy to strike up a conversation with curious beachgoers.
Back home this had been one of the best things he found to keep his demon quiet. Who would have thought that waves flying at his face would turn out to be a meditative technique? Surfing was one of the only normal things that was constant in his life. One of the prerequisites for Simon moving to the island was that there had to be easy access to surfable waves. Luckily, Manta Carlos had that in spades.
Simon had been eyeing this particular stretch of coast for a few days-- he usually went up the street to a pointbreak closer to the road, but he'd passed by this break and watched a few beautiful rights roll by and figured it was a wave worth trying. So here he was, watching the ocean slip away from high tide to low tide, ready for a sunset session.
A few people were strolling around the beach for the view of the sinking sun. Simon sat on the sand with his board, bar of wax in one hand, raising the bumps on its surface with every passing stroke. He had yet to meet another surfer around, but he was always happy to strike up a conversation with curious beachgoers.
