A lot of people spend their college years in a drunken haze between dorm rooms, fraternity and sorority houses and beyond. I wasn’t one of those people. I was lucky because I had a best friend who A) still has never had a sip of alcohol in his life, and B) got bit by ambition at 19 years old and took a sales job that put him (us) on the road and into a logo wrapped ski van. And like most college surfers, surfing was the most important thing in our lives at the time. That meant weekends weren’t about partying, because a shop needed a visit in Santa Barbara, or he needed a helping hand at a convention in Mammoth. So for years we piled surfboards and wetsuits into that massive van. We crammed them around demo skis, poles, boots and bindings and drove a never ending loop of every surf spot from San Francisco to San Diego then up through Mammoth, Las Vegas, Tahoe, and right back to Northern California again where it all started.
Sometimes we “roughed it” by camping. Other times there was a comfy bed to crawl into thanks to some nifty expense account work. Sometimes we found waves at every stop for gas, surfed all day and ended up driving all night. And sometimes the Pacific Ocean seemed like it just wanted us to drive east for Las Vegas because she couldn’t be bothered to send so much as a ripple to California’s shores. But whether the coast was cold and pumping with surf or I was singing pinner nuggets, my own personal ancient indian wave hymn reserved for breaking the most dreadful of flat spells, there was never a time I didn’t love being on the road. I loved seeing the world zoom by through the passenger’s side window. I miss it. Because everything’s more beautiful when you know you only have a moment to enjoy it.
Editor’s Note: This gallery is a photo series called “BC Or Bust” from the Wonders App, the most amazing hand-picked visual stories about travel, outdoor culture and free spirit.
