Was heading up PCH Saturday morning as I saw a set roll through here. I waited to see if another came. It did. I shot it, then hopped a fence and stumbled down a cliff to surf it. A great lil local mission.
Growing up as a surfer in New England, Nova Scotia was our version of Baja. It represented the promise of an epic road trip, an international border crossing, and rugged,
It was early September and the Atlantic began to stack up with hurricanes lined up one after the next. First there was Irma. Then Jose. And Maria right behind. I booked a