Destiny is calling. Who will answer?

If there is one thing that signifies to the outside world about our little surfing cloister, it is the conquering of a “100 foot wave.” Monsters, of course, in places like Nazare and Jaws have been ridden with much aplomb, though none have officially measured 100 feet. Garrett McNamara, savior of Portugal, made of the better surfing programs ever named “100 foot wave” but, he too, never found.

Which brings us to today and to Florida.

The Sunshine State, dangling off the southeast corner of these United States, is known for many things including Ron DeSanctimonuious, alligators, Jimmy “Cane” Wilson, Dion Sanders, the 2012 Republican National Convention, Palm Beach, The Flight of the Navigator, Ray Finkle, Hooters, Kelly Slater etc.

It is not known for overly large surf and yet here we are.

Climate change.

For a massive, major hurricane is twirling and swirling in the too-warm Carib pointing at Florida herself.

A category 5 named Lee.

CNN declares:

The hurricane was located about 630 miles east of the northern Leeward Islands, the hurricane center said Friday in the 5 a.m. update.

“Additional strengthening is forecast today. Fluctuations in intensity are likely over the next few days, but Lee is expected to remain a major hurricane through early next week,” forecasters wrote in the update.

Lee will likely reach its peak intensity by this weekend and is still expected to be a dangerous hurricane over the southwestern Atlantic early next week, though it’s too soon to know whether this system will directly impact the US mainland.

Dangerous surf and rip currents will spread across the northern Caribbean on Friday and begin affecting the US on Sunday, the center said.

Other models, however, state, “Even without a direct landfall eastern US will feel along the coast… starting with Florida early week. This map here for early Friday (next week). Later into the run showing 100+ feet.”

And there we have it.

100+ feet.

Laird Hamilton, the aforementioned Garrett McNamara, Sebastian Steudtner (who currently holds the Guinness World Record at 86 feet) and other big wave studs certainly must be considering dropping everything they are currently doing and heading directly south and east (if they happen to be on America’s west coast or Hawaii).

McNamara first and foremost, I’d imagine, as part of his popular “100 foot wave” could get a swift and catchy “100+ foot wave” rebrand.

Exciting times.

The sad story of an unwanted stepchild.

Oh to be Felipe Toledo, the world at your feet, the world on a string. Coral, his main enemy, is rapidly dying everywhere due global warming, the World Surf League, where he competes, has pivoted almost entirely to small waves, the 2022 Championship Trophy already sits above hearth and space has been pre-cleared for the 2023 one which is almost assuredly his.

The cherry on top?

That hearth is in San Clemente, California, the selfsame hosting last “Finals Day” and this one too.

Huzzah!

Filipe and his entire family moved from Ubatuba, in beautiful Brazil, to the Spanish Village by the Sea in 2014, nearly one whole decade ago. Basically a lifetime when it comes to rootless Southern Californians. By right, Toledo should be honored, celebrated, feted at Nick’s and South of Nick’s nightly but… no and emphatically no.

He is not and, moreover, his interloper status is rudely rubbed in his lightly puggish nose.

I had to drive north, very much too early this morning and very much too far. While passing through the Town That Andino Built I saw giant red banners stretching over the first 5 freeway pedestrian overpass, closest to Lowers. Being where I was, I assumed they read “Trump Won!” but as I got closer, Trump’s face somehow seemed more… squishy.

Closer still, I realized it was current world number two Griffin Colapinto’s face with the words “Griff for World Champ!” emblazoned.

Bold.

I assumed the next overpass, though not closest to Lowers, would be a giant green banner, li’l lion front and center, reading, “Paddle Pip!”

But no.

And no on the next and next and none even when I entered San Juan Capistrano like a tired swallow.

But there has to be one brave San Clemente local who can break with the mob and cheer his or her neighbor.

Raise your hand, please.

Rage time.