Cover model Sara LaVerne. Assorted articles, including the SOFO Poets Society, Air Force Museum, fashion collabs, and stories about stuff I wanted to share. I hope you enjoy it. The first black and wh
How long do surfers wait for waves?
Ask seven surfers and you'll get eight answers. For some, the perfect wave is worth an hour or three of bobbing like a cork in the lineup, staring at the horizon with the optimism of someone who believes magic *always* shows up eventually. It's not impatience out there, it's anticipation. The good kind. The kind that fills the chest, narrows the focus, and makes every tiny ripple feel like a maybe. Surfers aren't just waiting; they feel as if they are connecting themselves to the pulse of the gulf.
But if you ask others, the wave is only half the story. Sometimes it's really about being outdoors with the salt on your lips, the sun warming your shoulders, and the seagulls sounding like they're fighting for their last meal. Even the lull between sets becomes its own kind of meditation. The gulf has a sneaky way of slowing you down until your thoughts match the rhythm of the tide. Waiting stops feeling like "waiting," and instead becomes time you wouldn't trade for anything.
And then there's the camaraderie. The silly jokes shouted across the water, the friendly competition, the "Did you see that?!" moments, and the shared groan when a perfect wave rolls through just out of reach. Whether it's big surf, ankle-biters, or something in between, the company makes it gold. And me? I love photographing it all. The stillness, the chaos, the wipeouts, the quiet, the shared stoke, the entire symphony of wave-watching. Waiting for waves might take minutes or hours, but capturing the story? That's instant magic.
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