Shackleton Begins 1: I Quit My Job

I quit my job and left in search of waves.

I was thinking about quitting for a long time. The anxiety at the prospect of quitting with nothing else lined up had its grip. But I also knew I didn’t want to go another year delaying what very possibly was inevitable. So I calculated out my personal runway, saw it was long enough, and made the decision to resign. It’s funny how my anxiety dispersed once the decision was made.

With my newfound freedom, the first order of business is surf. I’ve been fantasizing about a surf trip down the coast and nothing now stands in my way of making it a reality. So, I toss my boards into my 2014 Subaru and say goodbye for now to San Francisco.

First stop: Santa Cruz.

I roll up to Pleasure Point at 6:58am and am welcomed with an intense sunrise. The sky hurtles a layer cake of red, orange, and pink, christening my trip with a bit of sweetness. Pleasure Point was always my favorite spot in Santa Cruz. It offers long, predictable, rolling rights and a typically mellow crowd even if there are many people in the water. The water is easy to navigate and it’s not hard to stay in position with minimal burn on the arms. It’s essentially the polar opposite of Ocean Beach which oftentimes wants nothing more than to kill you. I welcome the thought of an easy paddle out and the absence of a need to defy death.

The Point doesn’t quite look like it’s working but there are probably ten guys out at the Hook. I’ve never actually surfed the Hook but this trip is for new experiences. I’m a bit intimidated walking down the stairs and seeing the waves thrash against the rocks. But I time my entry amidst the oncoming waves and paddle out to the lineup.

There are really only four or five guys getting waves so I manage my first one pretty easily. I drop into an easy peeling right, trim up to the lip, and think about how incredible life is when the waves are good. As the wave is ending, a guy is paddling back out directly in my line. I botch the dismount and pop back up to see my board right next to his face, which carries a pissed off look. Shit. Ten minutes into my first surf at the Hook and I’m already pissing people off.

“You alright?” I ask.

“Yeah I’m alright,” he responds through a frown.

“Sorry,” I say weakly as I get my board and paddle back to the lineup, trying not to let the mishap ruin the session. The tail end of an epic sunrise and beautiful waves do much to boon my mood.

The next wave I’m deeper than another guy who’s also paddling. Blonde hair and beard, athletic. He’s been ripping all morning. I’m almost on the wave but in a split second I look at him and yell “Go, go, go!” I figure I could use a little good karma. He digs and catches the right, throwing spray in a few smooth top turns.

He paddles back out, “Thanks for communicating there.”

“No problem,” I answer. “Fun one?”

“Ehh, I tried to get too fancy on it,” he replies modestly.

I wish that was what I looked like when I try to get too fancy.

I caught a few more waves and paddled in, inwardly rejoicing when I get back to my car and see all my shit wasn’t stolen. Now it’s on to San Simeon State Park where I’m camping for the night.

The excitement and anticipation of an epic trip is brewing quickly. A whole week and a half of nothing but chasing waves down the coast. No emails, no responsibilities, no worries. I’m ready for the adventure of a lifetime.