Peter Heller : Journal

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Last Surf

July 10th, 2010 · 240 Comments · Uncategorized

Wednesday morning surfed a river mouth in Mexico, the only one out for the first hour of daylight, soft rain on glassy water, the mountains shrouded, pelicans gliding by in pairs wingtips a feather’s breadth off the water. A dark stirring a few feet away and then—a sea turtle’s head out of the water, to say hello. Fritz came out for an hour and then I was alone again. Intoxicated with peace. Caught a last wave in, the last wave of the trip, rode it to the gravel beach, jumped off, somehow kept footing, and trotted up over the stony berm, a thud and clatter, and three horses were tearing by, nipping eachother, full gallop, and soaking wet—I guess from crossing the river. They swerved and ran into the palms. Laughter welling up, its own groundswell of glee. Couldn’t contain the beauty of the morning.

Dawn

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