"It’s 6:00 in the morning and the wind wakes me up, i can guess where this raging gusts come from, and i smile. The swell came late at night, along with some heavy rains. Kepa and myself drove for hours looking for this stretch of coast i have been studying, hoping the math would work out.
This is the magic of this little great sea, surfing here is half science half blind faith. You could walk these beaches almost everyday and not even imagine what the coast is capable of, until you see it with your own eyes, or in my case, until you envision the potential out of it, and wait. Oh boy, you sure wait.
Kepa gets the rhythm of the rising pulse, the waves get bigger and cleaner and i let my camera soak it all in, how special it feels to score with no other soul in sight, i think there’s still magic places and moments that keep surfing’s long gone genuine stoke alive, and this has to be one.
Then, hours go by, the swell starts to fade out, the winter light reaches it's most delicate apex, the air turns colder and the sky deploys an infinite scale of pastel colors. Kepa has switched to a singlefin longboard and dances effortlessly to the smell of pinetress. I now know this moment in front of me is eternal. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world."
Marc Durà Prats