It’s almost midnight and we’ve finally made it to the tiny ghost town where we’ll spend the night.

It’s been raining hard for hours and there’s not a soul in sight. It feels like a scene from Tarantino’s classic film From Dusk till Dawn — we’re sure the only other humans around would be at the nearby road- side brothel.

We fall asleep to the sound of howling winds.

When you’r born and raised on the shores of the quiet Mediteranean Sea, you start to think you know it quite well — but no matter how good a forecast seems, you still end up enduring a bunch of no-show swells. That was the source of our debate while dri- ving down to the beach. Apparently, Kepa’s stoke goes beyond the threat of any failed mission. Classic Kepa.

There’s something touching about the way people smile when they see magic happening, especially grown-ups. And there’s a bunch of grown-ups smi- ling in front of me right now, charmed by the magic we’re witnessing together. The swell has definitely arrived and it’s big enough to wake up this sleepy left-hander.

You could come to this place a hundred days in a row and not see a single ripple on the water but, somehow, some days, a few clean perfect peelers come and greet those who understand how this gentle sea beats. That’s the magic of this coast.

It’s been 48 hours of wandering under the radar with Kepa and Sergi, looking for a solitary corner to tackle this rise-fast die-fast swell. Some may think this is B-rated surfing in novelty waves but, if I’m to judge it based off the faces I’ve seen here, I’d say this is the purest form of stoke I’ve ever encountered.

The day comes to an end and just like in an ancient Greek drama, the afternoon sends a soft light turning the lines on the water smoother, the waves begin to die while the boys set perfect straight lines on their single fins, the cobblestones are turning silent, the air gets colder and the smell of pine trees reminds us that tomorrow will be flat.

I don’t see any grief on their faces, though. All I see are smiles, and I understand they’ve conquered eternity here and now.

Ain’t that Magic?

Marc Dura