by Eliot Treichel
One last forward stroke then slide into the trough. Lean back quick so the bow clears. Shift your weight forward again. Hang with the pry all the way up the face and spot the pile. Watch yourself into it, like watching a baseball into your mitt. When the pile breaks over you, dig for the green water. Feel the vibration of the paddle. Feel the hull break loose from the current and stall there. Search for the feeling of being weightless, suspended. Tilt forward just an inch. Then you have it. You’re on the wave. Every time now. That’s the sequence.
From the eddy, Parker and Bernardo and the other guys hooted and whistled. Campbell shot video from shore. We all lived together in a place we’d taken to calling La Jungla House. A Spaniard, a Mexican, two Canadians, and three Americans—and then whoever else happened to be passing through. Continue reading
Hawaii Pacific Review 