With the storm getting ever closer, rain turned to downpour, and visibility weakened to 50 feet. Thunder crashing in the surrounding hills made it seem as though the entire ocean was surrounding you, breaking towards you in every direction. My thoughts began to stray from trying to decipher the next set of 10 foot beasts through the squall, to wondering if it might in fact be a bad idea to be sitting out on a surfboard three feet above water during an electrical storm. Though I have never heard of any surfer ever being struck by lightning, it must be possible. The waves were just too good right now to paddle in and watch from shore, so I took the most logical path and continued to enjoy myself.
It was at the point where I noticed the power had shut off at the beach front cantina, no lights on, no musica…that the situation seemed to be deteriorating. Not only could you not see the incoming set through the river of water pouring from the sky, but I was pretty sure I heard lightning just to the south…outside the breakers and pretty damn close to me. This was probably no bueno, but the adrenaline rush of riding big waves that you can’t see, in a total downpour, with the possibility of being fried at any moment was just…well…perfect. My religion had become apparent: nature, and the sea serving as my prophet.