Boone drives up the Pacific Coast Highway.
Through all the beach towns, past all the great breaks.
Thinks about all the waves, the rides, the wipeouts. The long leisurely hours in the lineups, or hanging out on the beach, talking story. The cookouts, grilling fish for tacos, watching the sun go down. The bonfires at night, sitting close to the flame to get warm, watching the stars come out, listening to someone play the guitar or the uke.
Doing things you love, in a place you love, with people you love
… that's what life is, what it should be anyway. If you spend your life that way-and I have, Boone thinks-then you should have no regrets when it's over. Maybe just a little sorrow knowing that you're riding your last wave.
If you even know it's your last.
What I've seen.
What I've seen, Boone thinks. I've seen the world from the inside of a wave, the universe in a single drop of water.
There's a world out there you know nothing about.
The sun will come up soon, The Dawn Patrol will be out, shooting for the big waves, Sunny will be taking her shot. He'd like to be out there with them, would like to be out there forever. But there are some sunrises you have to see alone.
Boone turns inland from the ocean and heads for the strawberry fields.
He's on The Dawn Patrol.