I found myself standing on a ledge in foot deep water, waiting for micro-waves to come through. I'd just paddled about a half-mile out to the "lineup" in 55 degree water, and was watching the sun set as water lapped up my calf. What the hell was I doing out there?

Well, work had taken me far away again--this time to southern Spain. In fact, it is 11 time zones away from my beloved Aloha State--almost halfway around the world.

I mentioned "southern" Spain because it's not near the swell-abundant Bay of Biscay, home to the world-famous Mundaka. No, this was the sheltered south, closer to the mild Mediterranean than the bionic Basque County.

So why was I even out in those conditions--well, I had to ask the same question to myself. The waves were an epic one foot, and you could get a ten yard ride (kick assisted, that is), if you were lucky.

As the orange orb of the sun sank into the horizon straight ahead, the unbroken waves undulated across my legs rhythmically. Even though there wasn't much to ride, just being out in the elements was relaxing... rejuvinating. The ocean always has been a source of energy, relaxation and awe.

Oh well, maybe it'll pick up later in the week. Till then, I'll be watching the four inch tubes peel flawlessly onto the beach, dreaming of bigger and better (and warmer) conditions.

Adios from Spain,