The wind never stopped. Out of pure frustration I was willing to do anything. We packed our hotel room as if we were making the trek back to San Jose. I made a call to the ever elusive Joe Walsh at Witch's Rock Surf Camp. I've never met Joe, only talked to him and emailed him. Notes from him have even been left at the hotel, but never a face to face meeting. We're calling him Charlie now, and we're his angels that he sends on missions. I was planning on driving strait to Hermosa and posting up for the remaining 3 days. Charlie said we should have a look at a beach midway there and two hours out of the way. I was skeptical but figured what the heck? It can't get much worse, right? After 3 hours off the beaten path the ocean was still not in sight. The wind was honking still and the frustration in the van that we dubbed "the white rhino" was felt throughout.
Another hour later we made it- Not before charging the white rhino through a river. We made it. This is where the fun of a surf trip comes in. An empty lineup with not a person in sight. Perfect A-frames lined the black sand beach. It was all ours.
The White Rhino. from High Seas Films on Vimeo.