I’m back home in SoCal and still picking sand out of numerous body orifices. Never one to hype up the power of the surf on the East Coast, I blog to you today quite humbled. After over a week on the Outer Banks—the North Shore of the East Coast—I can honestly say that I, along with the rest of the TWs crew, had our asses handed to us several times out there.

Maxing out at double overhead, shallow, and ultra consistent, the Outer Banks lived up to it’s reputation as an ass-kicker. I couldn’t some of the kids we ran into out there too! This one day, we were checking the Lighthouse and it looked like Armagedon—total victory at sea and merciless. I anted no part of the paddle out—and neither did anyone else except two little girls who looked no more than 14 years old. As they paddled out, I was kinda nervous for them as there was no way to help them out of they got into trouble with the thundering swell, swift current and lack of rescue ski. The two girls made it out. The same can’t be said for their male escort/Dad or whoever he was—he got smashed and never made it out.

Anyway, my whole perception of East Coast surf and those who love it, has been turned on it’s head. Props to ya’ll!