I opened my laptop and scratched around for some internet this morning. For the first time in a week. The Mexi Log Fest is on its penultimate day, and I feel as empty of energy as my inbox is full of emails. The festival is seven days of intensity. Surfing of the highest quality from dawn until dusk, and parties pulsing long after that.
I’ve been commentating, competing, and interviewing folks around the festival, drinking margaritas to combat the afternoon heat. Truth be told, I’m a mess. I’m equal parts joy and sadness. Every morning I wake up and miss my son and wife, long for home. Then all day I trade waves and talk story with my other family, my surfing tribe. We joke in the sun and watch one of the best longboard waves in the world be surfed by the best longboarders in the world.
I surfed in the quarters this morning. It was 2-3ft and glassy. I got through and beamed, shaking my head at my ridiculous luck. Then I cried for a while in my room. Watched videos of my son at home. I’ll let you know how I go.
📸 Matty Snelling
If you’ve not already read it cover to cover, there’s still time to pick up Mike’s previous volume of Wavelength; decked out with the stories of twelve custodians of surfing from different corners of the globe. Get yours here.
