Surfing in Resurrection on Resurrection Day

Last Easter Ben and I found ourselves basking in spring sun at the foot of Exit Glacier and Paradise Creek, the only souls for miles. We've decided to make every Easter a memorable one now and we won't be forgetting this one anytime soon. I sat in the warm car, listening to the rain tinkle on the window for at least 10 minutes before Molly strode up from the beach, yelling, "Why aren't you out there, girl? " Good question. Fighting the pleasures of comfort for the excitement of the new, it took me at least another 10 minutes to wiggle my way into my dry suit. Then I stumbled out into the gray drizzle and grabbed a rock of a surfboard and hauled it to the mouth of Fourth of July Creek where Ben was already communing with the curious sea lions 30 yards off. The last ocean water I bathed in was warm and inviting, full of coral and butterfly fish. It took me a few waves to splash up over my chest to realize this was the same big ocean. This time though, as water flooded into my neoprene gloves, it felt colder than ice, colder than the coldest water I've ever felt. The waves were perfect for me, small and easy and toward the end, I actually caught one that allowed me enough time to stand up on the board. A shriek escaped my lips of astonishment. Now I'm hooked. I know what that 'just one more' mentality is. Just one more for hours and hours. I know why surfing is almost a religion to Ben. I know the connection you feel with the power of sea meeting land. Returning to the car with triumph pasted on my face, I realized I wasn't even cold, I was actually breaking a sweat.