This weekend was an epic surprise. I haven’t seen Rockaway Beach this good since March of 2013. God and monster waves, raw off-shore winds, salty spikes and brutally cold sunshine.
I felt like the wave wizard. There was a moment when the ocean started building, you could feel and hear the mood. I was there, at the edge of the jetty, eyes on the big sets rolling in like freight trains and waiting for a surfer to take the drop.
“The biggest ones were coming in with ten foot faces but those weren’t the best,” Michael Reinhardt told me. “The best waves were the ones that feathered on the outer bars but didn’t quite break. Then, when they finally hit the inside sandbar, they detonated. Fast, frigid, hollow, heavy and make-able. I spent a good amount of time fighting currents to sit on the outside and find one of those waves. People looked at me like I was clueless for being so far out, but I knew my patience would pay. And when it did, I was rewarded with a bomb of a wave and a solid spitting barrel that I won’t forget for a while.”