Not a Soul in Sight

Most surfers, especially those of us in climates where the elements are usually in our favor, take what we have for granted. I'm the first to admit it myself. We can just check the reports, toss our board and wetsuit (if needed) into our car and drive to a handy break, knowing what to expect. There's something extra needed to be a surfer in climates where we can't take advantage of all our modern conveniences to make the wave-hunt and easy one.

The day before, after a grievously cold boat trip through disordered winter seas, we'd arrived at our côte de Dieu: an uninhabited stretch of the Vancouver Island coast, with reef waves bombing all around us and not a soul in sight. The morning's sleet had eased, but cutting offshore winds were tearing at the swell as it stacked onto the reef, each wave trailing a banner of white against a grey sky. We'd motored out to surf a spot that Clay had discovered the year before, and we'd lucked into some of the heavier waves we'd seen all season: thick slabs of opaque ocean lunging onto the rocks, each one looking like some primordial and unfinished prototype of Oahu's Backdoor...

Rest of the story from Malcolm Johnson here