Craig writes: It was a really small day, but even small days in paradise can be good. We were in a sweet little part of the islands to pick up a small swell, and we knew of a little spot or two that might just be picking up little wedges, bumping the available swell into a little bit more than what it really was. It was south and it was secret back then. We powered down, going as fast as this ex-Japanese navy boat could take us.
When we started getting closer we could see little bumps from behind. All we needed, according to our gnarly old skipper (who subsequently died from consumption – not of the TB kind, but of the alcohol kind) was to see bumps. We started the froth going, and when there are ten surfers who simultaneously get their froth on it doesn’t matter how big the boat is, because everything degenerates into a free-for-all chaos. Fins, leashes, wax, suncream. Testicles and boardshorts, Vaseline and rashvests. There were some other guys in the line-up already.
