Year to year, storm to storm, many of our breaks on eastern Long Island move. It used to be that from Flying Point you'd look east to Clark Bar, the Cut and other waves. But now head west a few hundred yards…it's wonderful.
As I walked down the beach with my SUP board I saw George Pav all alone on a wave the length of a football field. He was going right. And going and going and going and going and going. Then paddled back out as I rushed to join him. For about an hour it was looooong rides in and an easy paddle out in well spaced sets. Then Jeff, the Wolf and Christian arrived, and the waves kept coming (though the water took on some chop while the waves lost their grand width.)
The next time I go to Flying Point I'm arriving two hours before low tide, hoping to catch the same grand rides we had Saturday.
(Christian takes a long ride. Photo by Jeff.)
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