Without falling into the trap of the wild party at the house next to us, we manage to get some sleep and are up early the next morning, excited to surf perfect waves with we hope not too many others. When we arrive, the swell is present and we behold the solid lines of swell breaking on the horizon over an outside reef hundreds of meters from the shore. There aren’t many people in the water and the conditions seem incredible for the sup. Raf, usually loquacious, doesn’t say much. Neither do I. Hurriedly we untie the boards from the roof of the car, throw on our boardshorts and sprint to the water. After a good row to warm up, we arrive at the line up just in time to see a local take a bomb. Luckily this allows us to take our bearings, because otherwise I would have certainly sat too far inside whereupon I would be eaten.
