"You're magic," the dude told me when I walked over to check the surf from the bluff. "It was flat until you arrived."
There was no one out, and although I feared the lulls might be as long as his comment suggested, I couldn't pass up a solo session. Especially since I just finished writing a listicle for Mpora called 7 Hacks to Escape the Crowds and Surf Alone.
The path down to the cobblestone beach was still so muddy after Sunday's rain that someone had tied ropes to the signpost up top.
The dude from the bluff paddled out after a time, followed by another guy, but they kept their distance from me and each other. Indeed the lulls were long, and I passed the time watching pelicans fly past, their wingtips skimming the surface. Boils bubbled around me over the low-tide reef. It was disconcerting when my leash was suddenly yanked by something in the murky water, even though I knew it had to be the reef.