Yesterday’s drive up to Malibu proved to be really worthwhile. It had been a while since my face had been sandblasted by Santa Winds with gale-force power. I think the gusts at Zuma were hitting upwards of 55 MPH. Serious wind! I paddled out on my 7′-2″ thruster that had just been dinged minutes before. Seems the pesky wind wanted to swoop up the surfboard and slam it against the aluminum railing that runs parallel along PCH where I always park. Nothing that a few pieces of duct tape can’t fix. After getting pitched on a couple waves I gave up on trying to surf “against the wind.” So I rode one in, set my board down on the shore, and made sure to push the fins into the wet sand, else lose it to the wind. I swam out to the empty lineup with my GoPro (video clip and still image shown) watching these gorgeously backlit three to four-footers–mostly lefts–cracking off with precision, while being hollowed-out by the stiff offshore wind. Had that wind not been so violent I might’ve rode some screamers–having the place all to myself before eleventy hundred surfers got a glimpse of what was happening out there. Can’t have it all, right?