That surfing spell can catch you anywhere. On the road, at the beach, in the water. It can also catch you at midnight in bed, with the lights out and the laptop screen blazing. The blue-light and virtual YouTube barrels are enough to keep you up until morning and itching to surf every day following.
A few nights ago I stumbled upon Torren Martyn’s most recent video project, a full-length feature film on his three-month, two-wheeled, two island, surf trip up and down the eastern coast of New Zealand. By the time the credits began to roll at 1:05am my heart rate was at an all-week high. I spent the following few hours fantasizing about my own surf adventure, my imagination and my dreams converging at the seams as I drifted in and out of sleep until dawn.
It’s funny how easily we can latch on to ideas. Even vicariously, months in the future and thousands of miles away, that tug of adventure– that pull towards a new coast, can be so strong that it feels physical, like the touch of a gaze from a person across the room. If Lost Track in New Zealand was a floating crumb of bread, Torren Marten was the hidden hook, and I bit down hard.
For as long as I can remember, there has been a whisper telling me that there might be more out there. This is not to say that I come from anything less, but rather that the traditionally carved and heavily traveled trails of life are mere suggestions, not mandates. For the most part, I’ve clung tightly to the marked path, dipping off on occasions to indulge in my more curious and adventurous side.
It’s daunting, and often paralyzing, to sit down and piece together that ultimate journey– that moment where you leave everything behind to search for something you can’t even pin down. The moving pieces are endless and the sacrifices are always just a bit too great. And, of course, there is always next year.
I have this constant, everlasting internal debate with myself. Why is it that I always have this desire to leave? How am I so addicted to Google Earth and low-budget YouTube adventure vlogs? What’s wrong with my life right now? How can I be so selfish as to want even more than I already have? Do I even want more? Or less? These cycles of thought can be so suffocating that I ultimately push them down until they are nothing more than a faint itch. Noticeable, sometimes more so than others, but never really gone.
It took me a long time (with a lot of sleepless nights and unenthused mornings) to realize that adventure and freedom are not reserved for the professional surfers who travel the globe in search of waves. They are not reserved for the mountain hermit alone in their cabin. Or even reserved for the brave few who give up everything to live that nomadic life. That rush that comes with experiencing something completely new can be found on scales small enough to fit within a weekend.
I was so focused on that one big escape that I took for granted the countless tiny adventures that make up this life that I live. Be it a kayak camping trip (or three) of Na Pali coast or a month-long, Prius-cramped loop of the United States. Be it following the backyard stream as far into the mountains as we could go or simply a day trip down Highway 1 from San Francisco to Santa Cruz. These small journeys are the things that keep me excited and hungry. They are the memories that create that lingering summer feeling.
This is not to say that I’ve given up on that great big adventure where I travel a forgein country with a surfboard under my arm. Because honestly, I haven’t. And it’s video’s like Lost Track in New Zealand that stoke that fire, making me annoyed, excited, desperate, and passionate all at the same time.
Each passing day gets wrapped up in a monotonous bow, tying weeks, months, and years, into a great big generalization. But when I take a breath and slow down for a moment, it’s impossible to ignore the countless journey’s I’ve embarked on, and the life changing moments that I’ve shared with friends along the way.
There is a green-gold light filtering through the leaves of my backyard and onto my typing fingers. I think it’s time to load the car with some boards and drive south a bit. I’m not craving much, but I’m craving something. I think that this will do the trick. For now.
BAMBOOBLISTER 
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