
I packed the car with the surf gear Friday night so I wouldn't have to stagger around in the dark as much the next morning while my wife was sleeping.
Early Saturday morning, I strapped the board to the roof rack, loaded up the Dawg and headed out.
We arrived at my favorite surf spot about 30 minutes before sunrise. I walked out on the sand and peered into the semi-darkness to try and make out the surf conditions.
Could that be right? It looked like perfect 3-4 footers were rolling in one after another. I looked again - it was true!
I got the wetsuit on and paddled out. The grey sky reflected in the water and made it hard to determine where the sky ended and the water began. 100 feet out, a seal loped along just outside the break. He didn't seem to know I was there. Oh, and by-the-way, I WAS THE ONLY PERSON THERE.
I had the whole place to myself!
For about ten minutes.
Another guy paddled out, we said good morning and took turns catching waves.
30 minutes later, there were about ten guys in the line up but everyone was well-behaved. We were all just happy that the water was warm there were pleanty of waves for everyone.
Contrary to popular belief,in my experience, most surfers are fairly polite when surfing.
So long as you follow the rules. There are a handful of cardinal rules in surfing that you simply have to follow or else things can potentially get pretty difficult fairly quickly.
I had such a great time that I began to feel a little guilty about the dawg back in the car. It was his turn to have some fun.
Headed back to the car, changed into some dry clothes and spent an hour at Dawg beach watching him romp with the other dogs.
After that, the Dawg and I walked a few blocks toward the pier to one of our favorite dawg-friendly breakfast spots.
I had the usual; Beach Benedict (biscuts, topped with a sausage patty, fried egg and smothered in sausage gravy) and a beer (I am trying to cut down on the coffee).
All that, and were were home by 10am.