Stiff hair and dust on my clothes, that’s all I had to declare. Well maybe I should also declare that I had some of the best surf of my life. The last 4 days have been a mayhem of search and destroy…waves that is. With military precision my friends Dan and Matt and I (along with the San Clemente crew) quietly slipped below the border line to surf waves comparable on the epic-meter to that of Homer’s Odyssey. Wylie veterans, who have logged in hundreds of Baja excursions, whispered things like, “all time” and “world class,” somehow we were blessed to partake of these peninsular nirvanas strung along the Mexican desert. So, after 4 days of sensory overload from countless hacks and 250 yard point breaks resulting in too many walks from the beach back to the point for another paddle out, I sit; a 9 year old at the end of Christmas day, I am done for. My shower would declare that it has a ring of grit and dirt around the drain and that my hair has finally been tamed.

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