One Long Ride

It struck me that Dane Gudauskas was speaking like he’d discovered a new wave. Over his career, Gudauskas had, in fact, scoured the globe for unknown surf breaks from Canada to Angola. But here we were standing in his San Clemente, California, yard. “It’s a sick little left,” he said of the wave in question. “And I’ve been riding it with this.”

Gudauskas indicated the longboard at our feet. It was spotted yellow and brown like a rotten apple core. Dane’s father had found it at the dump. With a huge fin and significant hull, the board looked cumbersome. As soon as we were in Dane’s car and racing toward his new spot, he said he’d ride this new stick upside down and backward, and sometimes both. I thought we might be heading to a sandbar that had formed in seclusion, tucked below cliffs, perhaps. But then Gudauskas pulled off Interstate 5 at Basilone Road and we continued south. He flashed a