Driving through the night to find surf at dawn.

It’s 1:08 am. It’s Friday. I didn’t go out tonight,  I spent the night packing up for my trip to Panama in two days.

I can’t sleep.

I want to be outside. I want to be on an adventure, but I am stuck in the middle of hot, sweaty Miami. I want to trade the strip-malls and tired people hiding behind their AC units for the trees and mountains of Hawaii near my old home. I want to feel nature and the wind in my face.

I can’t sleep.

It’s time for coffee. It’s time to pack my tent, bag, some cookies and coffee. Grab the board, head north up the Florida coast. The sun rises in 6 hours. Waves are breaking somewhere. It’s time to find them.

John Muir once said, “The mountains are calling and I must go.” Personally, I think they are always calling.


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