Back in the eighties skateboarding and surfing had gained enough popularity through the southern California explosion (well documented in the excellent film Dogtown and Z Boys), that it spread to other parts of the state and the country.

Growing up near San Francisco, naturally there was quite a lot of influence from the skateboarding and surfing culture on the mentality of the youth that I grew up with. Therefore, not only did I play the mainstream sports like soccer, basketball, baseball and football, but I also dabbled in skateboarding and surfing.

As a mode of transportation, skateboarding became like second nature, and I still utilize the genius invention to get around today. But surfing was a different matter. Far more difficult to pick up on, especially because of the need for equipment, time, transportation, stamina, etc., I never really got the hang of surfing. I was too busy playing other sports.

But I still watched the lots of surf movies (including of course the mandatory watch Endless Summer), when I was younger and hanging out with my friends who took surfing more seriously. They were much more advanced in their ability and their knowledge of the sport, and also introduced me to the concept of a "surf safari".

The idea is now so commonplace it seems novel, but the bottom line is: I ALWAYS DREAMED of going to some tropical, foreign place with warm waters and exotic food, a place to surf without a wetsuit!

Well, finally at the ripe age of late twenties, I made my first foray into the unknown, seeking the imagery and fantasy brought about by watching those old surf movies way back when I was a teenager in the eighties.

This is the incredible story of that first adventure, a trip that would change my life forever, a trip that would continue to guide me along the path towards my love for the ocean, and the art and craft and lifestyle of catching waves.