Better Than A Dream
“Mundaka is going to be huge and perfect on Tuesday!” That was the message I received at 11:09pm as my WiFi connected. I had just checked into my hostel in Barcelona, and had the salt residue from the surf that morning all soaked in from the long train ride. I paused, and then knew I was going to be right back on the train in the morning to score Mundaka because Barcelona would still be there after the swell if I wanted to go back…
Here I was hung-over from my one night in Barcelona and on the train heading back to San Sebastian for the 3rd time in a week. What did that tell me? Yes, I had once again become that panicking surfer who will drop everything for a the ultimate rush, and I loved every fucking bit of it. I arrived at around 11:30 that night hoping to find a hostel and a bite to eat. I got lucky and found one right across from Hogar Dulce Hogar, which is Miguel’s bakery where we were meeting that next morning. After getting settled with dinner and a glass of wine, I logged onto Surfline only to see Garret McNamara’s wave in Portugal, and got chills knowing that Mundaka was going to be no joke. I could hardly sleep, and turned into a grom again. I went on youtube to find the part of Andy and Parko surfing Mundaka in Trilogy, then the session in Lost… On the road with Spike, andfor the next two hours Isearched the web for videos of Mundaka, and all A.I. parts of him tearing up hollow lefts. I was once again felt the “eat, sleep, breathe surf” mindset that happens to surfers. I probably only had four blinks by the time my alarm sounded, and I rushed down stairs to a wide-eyed grinning Miguel who exhaled with “It is fucking big”. My mind was going crazy and I was already mind surfing these walls, and speaking in my head “Now this is going to be the session at Mundaka I thought would only be in my dreams!”
As we came around the bend, where we got our first glance at Mundaka, we could only see walls of white water because it was still dark, and my stomach immediately went into my throat knowing that it was pumping. As we pulled up, I jumped out of the car to see how big it really was, and it was bombing. I saw an eight wave set roll through that was as big and perfect as Mundaka could hold before washing through, and the tide was still relatively high. We grabbed a coffee to warm and fuel up knowing that it would only get better, after about twenty minutes of running wild taking photos of these flawless chambers, the fire inside became fierce, and I had to be riding these waves that were better than a fantasy. I hadn’t seen the board I was going to be riding, but I didn’t care what I was riding because it was pumping. I then thought back to the day before this trip started, I was having a few farewell beers with my two boys Shaun and Shane watching the Ward Stories, in one part, Wardo show up without a board or suit only to borrow them off someone. I started laughing paddling out because those guys were giving me so much shit about going on a trip that (or suppose to have) had nothing to do with surfing, and I shook my head agreeing to how right my friends were. I am a surfer and any chance of scoring waves anywhere in the world I know now I will be there with the correct equipment. Right as I sat up on my board in the line up the horizon arose with a solid set that swung wide, I barely got under the first wave, and scratched over the second, and into position for the third. The strong offshore wind made it so I went blind as I paddled down the face of this masterpiece, as soon as I felt the wave lift me I slid to my feet, and by time I got to the bottom of the wave I had vision again only to look up at a heaving lip. I had to draw out a big bottom turn because the board I was riding was quite big for me, and I needed to slow it down. This wave was so immaculate and round all I had to do at this point was sit there, which I did for what seemed like mile long harmonic tunnel waiting for my arrival at the Pearly Gates. I stayed in this cavern until it closed out onto dry sand, and popped out the back only to witness a view of line after line of guys getting pitted and the old church on the cliff. I will that keep that vision with me forever, and I watched it for the next twenty minutes as I paddled against the current all the way back out. I was astonished on the amount of waves that went through with not a drop of water out of place. I surfed for a few hours until my back, arms, legs, and mind burned from the amazement I was induced with. As I climbed up the cliff, I was almost blown off a dozen times from the wind and paying attention to the waves. I sat there as the wind picked up stunned at how this wave is actually probably better than what I have dreamed of it being like. I got back to the hostel and started looking at the train schedule to continue on my journey because I was now way behind, but as I was sitting there I looked into the window at my reflection and I swear it cursed at me “It’s still fucking perfect, and you are not going anywhere!” I looked around and noticed all the people that had no apprehension of how incredible my day way, or the feeling I had established inside me again for surfing. I stopped looking at train times, and closed my browser to remain editing the photos I had taken of the waves because I knew I was not going anywhere until this swell was completely gone!!!