the lane

Me and Sean were surfing out Leadbetter on a chest-high swell a few winters ago. We made friends with an old man (Sean recognized his earplugs, actually) who told us about a great lineup a few miles south down the freeway. We didn’t have anything else to do that afternoon so we drove down to check it out. Getting to the spot entailed a dicey slog through a pitch-black drainage tunnel and a tromp down a canyon between expensive houses, but when we got the beach… Classic!

Although the swell had dropped a little, there were some classy little lines peeling around a mostly sandy point.

We’ve since been back dozens of times (including one session during an epic Winter ’07 swell) and have never been disappointed. It’s always bigger than we expect and usually cleaner too. Once, we even surfed with a Malloy (or two?!). But the best part of all is that we’ve almost always had it to ourselves. And that, my friends, is the reason for upholding the elitist, non-disclosure of location!

Old comments:

Dad @ 2009-10-14 14:22:19
"Sean and I"

Andre @ 2009-10-14 14:42:57
To which I reply: "Eat me!"

Sean @ 2009-10-15 10:40:54
Amen to non-disclosure of location. Although given how many folk were in the water that epic day, Winter '07, it is a poorly kept secret.

Also, it would have been funnier if you replied to Dad: "Eat I!"

Andre @ 2009-10-15 10:50:37
Dammit, Sean. You're right.

Well, you can eat I.

the lane