Coffee in one hand breakfast sandwich in the other winding through the narrows of the Honolua Bay Valley. Surfboards rattle in the trucks bed as we fly down the red dirt road. Snug to the cliff line we gaze to the horizon as the sets poor in exploding 200 ft below us.
The sun is heating up the land, and the winds are off shore.
“This is it,” I think. “This is how I should start my day from now on.”