I am hoping everyone had a good holiday, enjoying consistent surf and good health. I have been so busy that I haven't been able to write at all, let alone lurk/post to alt.surfing. But with the exception of a quick 3-week layoff (back/knees), I've been surfing consistently. During my sessions (all solo, as I have written before) I find myself thinking alot about how that particular day's experience would read in a post to the ng. Rarely has there been a single session that creates the basis for a good story, at least over the past two months. But now that I have made a little time to check in, I was glad to scroll through a few threads in which I could reassert my own little presence in this community of ours. The "three best surfs" thread is a good example as it inspired me to examine my experience of the last year and try to capture the high points in a way that you folks might find interesting.

I want to qualify this little piece with my opinion that selecting best sessions among many can be a pretty arbitrary exercise without first applying sideboards; criteria that form a context for one's choices. So I tried to write a list of criteria that might give some structure to my 3-best post. What I found was that the surfs that came to my mind as standouts all had wildly different elements for being great experiences. As a result a selection structure might not be the best approach for this post. So instead, here are my three choices, in chronological order, based primarily on free-association:

1. January session at the main beach in the Basque city of San Sebastien. When I went to Spain last year, I hadn't surfed in three years. In fact, I went to Spain for reasons totally unrelated to surfing. But there I was in San Sebastien's old town, drunk and well-fed on tapas, standing under the sign of a surf shop that would rent me the full kit so that I could hit the water during free time the next day. The session itself was unremarkable. You know what it's like to layoff for an extended period and then jump right back in to the line-up. You know what youwant to do intellectually, but your body doesn't cooperate per the specialized training that surfing requires. But the setting is exceptional there in Euskadi, and I caught waves. The experience enabIed me to remember that unmistakable feeling that only surfing has ever inspired in me. My thoughts turned to my home: the PNW.

2. My first surf ever in the PNW about a month later. I was so fired-up about my first session in the cove at Westport, Washington that I wrote my first surf story ever and posted it to alt.surfing. Conditions were superb for my introduction to coldwater, PNW surfing, even if my spot choice was the most overrun of our spots up here. Again, this session had significance for me beyong the mere fact that I had gotten wet, barrelled, dropped-in late, or any of the other things that came together in that session for me. More importantly, I commited to the existence of PNW surfing. Commited to work tirelessly, hungrily to extend my boundaries of ability and area knowledge well beyond what was required of me as a middle of the pack, San Diego surfer. That meant creeping the coast on the down-low, respecting landowners and members of the coastal tribes (even if that respect is constantly met with the worst stinkeye and approbation I have ever experienced). It meant searching without asking, assembling clues, reading marine charts and hunting maps, and becoming fluent in PNW weather analysis. It also meant expressing my own personal version of Desperation 101. Ah, but that's another story!

3. Jewel of the North Coast--My Debut. Most of you are familiar with Lemming's Bloody Sunday photo's from last March. Even though I hadn't surfed Washington before last winter, I already knew about that place, and had heard about it before his pictures became available. Then those fricken pictures. Truth is that the spot is very well-know and easily found by most these days. I am convinced that those with friends who surf up here get shown that spot if they beg or bribe well-enough. And although it can be a bitch to hike in, it's gotten crowded there, especially when not showing it's best, most awesome face. For my own part, I have no friends who surf, and I keep to myself in the water so I haven't met anybody who'd show me around since I started surfing up here. Instead, I crept that coast, scowered the maps and charts, and worked my ass off to find the spot and then the "embarcation" point. You see finding a gem spot from the coastal road in Washington is only half the job: figuring out where the walk-in starts and where it goes is all part of the experience. But last fall, I saw a familiar rig pulled off the road on my way back from the Bay. The rig had racks. Bonus. A few weeks later after the first of this winter's Northwests began to roll in out of the Gulf of Alaska, I broke for the spot, hiked in, and found it 1.5 OH, with the wedge peak jacking up to 2x. No sweet shoulders like the Bloody Sunday picks, just long left walls and closeouts. The very high tide made for a lot of movement in the water around the take-off and impact zones. But I got it alone! Big, clean, solo...and nervous the whole fricken time. Got a serious taste of the place, bellied in, hiked out and drove in my wetsuit to a nearby rivermouth that happens on an even narrower window than the jewel, but was going-off at chest high as I drove back to town. Surfed in alternating sunshine, snow, and rain. PNW perfection.

More recently: I surfed the biggest, best shaped waves I have ever experienced up here, in what may turn out to be one of the best of 2000. Long-fetch lines with defined peaks rolled in last Friday, into stiff offshores and sunny skies. I estimated the backs at 7 to 9 feet, and was glad for my new Pearson Arrow 8'6". But you'll have to wait for next year for that story (maybe)!

David, Seattle