Writer and former pro surfer Jamie Brisick has a story in The New Yorker, sadly, he had to lose his home to the Malibu fire to make it happen. In his Personal History story A Surfer’s Perspective on Malibu In Flames he explains what it was like to go back in during the evacuation to check on things. Here’s a piece.
The homes leading up to mine were gone, and so were the homes across the street. I pulled into the gravel driveway and got out of my car. The burning smell was like a punch in the face. There was nothing left of the front house, a ranch-style home where my neighbors—a husband, wife, twin thirteen-year-old daughters, and two loud dogs—had lived. I followed the winding concrete footpath back to my guesthouse. It used to be shaded by a canopy of trees, but the trees were no longer. Ditto the surfboard rack that held a half-dozen prized boards. I’d never seen a burned surfboard before. The foam had disintegrated, but the fibreglass husks remained. They resembled shed skin, or cocoons.
For the rest of his story, please click the link. Brisick’s perspective has much more to do with his being a great writer, than it does with being a surfer, but those East Coasties seem to have a thing for surfers who can write.
[Link: The New Yorker]
