It was “zero shark thirty” when I caught my first wave, a beautiful head high wall that materialized out of the predawn velvet. The offshore breeze blew spray into my eyes as I dropped into darkness, the water surface glinting with copper highlights from the distant streetlamps.
I bottom turned and became aware of something racing towards me out of the gloam. As it neared, the form burst apart into a multitude of shadows clawing upwards into the blue-black sky… a formation of pelicans who’d been surfing the wave towards me.
Relieved, I proceeded to climb and drop across the perfect black wall, white spray barely visible from the feathering lip, finally kicking out of the exhausted wave just a few feet from shore.
On my next wave, I got dropped in on.
Malibu.