South winds continuing like some sort of miracle. The swell bumped up overnight, thundering into Bunkers at head-and-a-half on the sets – clearly another gift from the gods as the buoys read only 4 at 18, 4 at 15. (That long-interval accounted for the larger sets, but still – head-and-a-half?) The A-team dotted the Bunkers peak while a flock of dark birds (pelicans?) bobbed nearby. I’d caught a ride out with S, and after weighing our options, we decided to chance the safer, easier confines of the Jetty. The waves alternated between waist- and chest-high, glassy, beautiful – and without the miles of paddling Bunkers demands. Two people joined us – TT and his son, W. The kid surfs like it’s the easiest thing in the world and hoots for his dad with such pure enthusiasm, I couldn’t help but grin. Lovely morning.