A Southern Journey

We wake early.

It’s an ancient ritual.

Full of optimism, we dream of a collaboration between Mother Nature, and the tumultuous sea; searching for inspiration, the white whale, the perfect wave.  

Before the surf, we breathe. We nurture the morning — start the day with nutrients, energy, pace, rhythm.

And then the journey.

We are nomads of the coast, scaling mountain tops and riverbeds.

Distorted islands dance like shadows in the distance.

Waves and winds roar in perfect harmony.

We surf because we’re optimists.

Searching for the moments when time stands still, convincing ourselves that those rides will be enough — that we won’t want more; that we won’t scout the horizon for the next day’s break.

For it’s not until we feel connected that the journey is complete.

One with ourselves, and the sun red on our skin, we travel with nature and disconnect from the digital world — if only for a moment, we know it’s a moment of reprieve.

So we search, and we surf.

This is Rhythm.