I was in 6th grade when I picked up surfing. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
The day started with a 2 hour commute to the beach. Very sunny day. A storm was brewing up in the Atlantic. Bringing in chest high waves. We get to the Sebastian Inlet and you can hear the waves crashing against the shore line. Got educated on how to paddle out and how to push up on the board on the sand. I started paddling out on this longboard. It was so difficult to paddle out. Got my ass handed over to me a couple times. But I stayed persistent. Got positioned and I remember my dad and my friends dad telling me to start paddling. Felt the drift and the strength of the wave underneath me as I started to stand up. Feel down, but I stayed persistent. Went back out again and repositioned myself. I can hear my dad scream out, "this is a good one! Paddle, paddle!" This time I caught the wave and road it in.
As years went by I got better and better. When I turned 16 my dad bought me a truck. I was so happy. I look in the bed and I see a surfboard. I shit myself. A new truck and a new ride for the water. Ecstatic! My buddy Allison and I would skip school and catch all the Florida swells. We would ride to--
Sublime every time in the way to the beach. We had our own crew call Trailer Park Mafia. The east coast Florida surfers use to make fun of us because we came from central Florida to surf in their territory. Central Florida is covered by trailer parks. We loved the name though.
When we surfed contest, they'd broadcast are crew over the PA system. "Trailer Park Mafia crew" from Polk county. Lol. Greatest thing ever was talking to Kelly slater and Hobgood brothers commending us for coming out to surf from such a long distance.
Eventually we became more welcomed by the space coast guys and the cocoa/Sebastian surfers.
When I was about 21 we got hit by numerous hurricanes that year. The surf was on fire that year. Along with that seeing big waves and tragic accidents.
The day began with a ride to satellite beach. Listening to --
Wave height that day was overhead shore break. I remember paddling out and catching a bunch of waves. And being barreled. I got tired and sat on the beach. My buddy Derrick stayed out. Little by little the waves got bigger and bigger. I paddled out one more time. I looked over to my buddy Derrick and said, "shit is wild bro. This will be the last wave I ride. I'm to tired to keep going". I rode in one wave. I saw the other behind that one was soo big for a Florida wave. I cut back and jump off my board. I look back before I jump off my board and see a wall of a wave coming toward me with Derrick about to catch that wave. I start heading to the shore. A minute passed and I don't see shit. I look out I see wave after wave crash against the shore. Still nothing. I start to panic and look for Derrick. I see a piece of his board that broke off crash against the shore line. 5 minutes go by and it feels like an eternity. I run out in the water and I see at a distance I see his body getting sucked underneath water, wave after wave. I finally get to him. Swim back to shore and try to revive him. I fought and fought for his life and revival. And nothing. I gave up a lot after that. Ambitions to open ip a surf shop, to travel the world surfing and being a surf photographer.
I gave up surfing for a while. After my ex and I broke up, I went to my homeland Puerto Rico. And my father got me back on my board. This year I booked a trip to Costa Rica for a surf trip to fulfill a dream that Derrick had to surf the shores of Costa Rica.
RIP Derrick.
