We’re currently on a 75-foot warship from the seventies dubbed the ‘SS Pretty Girl’ , in search of cobblestone a-frame perfection along the coast of Vancouver Island.
Noah and his companions revel in the conditions under the crisp autumn sun, and being lucky enough to call it “work” has never made his surfing look so comfortable and at ease. Because that’s when he’s truly at his best. Not thinking about the photos, clips or heat scores. Just surfing, as it should be.
Relaxed but precise, he hits the lip of a set wave and gracefully transitions back down the face straight into another bottom turn.
Who no matter how much his confidence grows in the water, never forgot to continue being modest and gracious on land.
SS Pretty Girl
The setting sun hangs, bouncing along horizon throughout my blurred line of sight. Noah joins me from below the deck and hands me a cold cider, informing that the ginger infused in the beverage is helpful for seasickness. I’m embarrassed but grateful, and he sits down as we silently stare off at the burning skyline anticipating where we’ll be this time tomorrow.