There isn't enough room on this blog to detail all we went through to, first, get to this break and, even more importantly, attempt our escape once the tide came up, trapping us (TT, photographer Ken and I) on what little sand was left. The car was north, but the safest route to land appeared to be south. As we often learn in this life, appearances are often deceiving.
Perhaps the rich and famous will hear of our plight, of our decision to split up, hoping upon hope that one of us would eventually reach the car while the other two fought their way to higher ground. In the end, all three of our intrepid adventurers made it back to civilization safely (with three mats, two sets of fins, two surfboards, one board bag, one backpack and loads of camera equipment—all of which ended up wet). Perhaps those rich and famous folks will decide to option our story, thus somehow rewarding us for our fortitude, for our decision to invade their seemingly private break with our mats, boards and photographer.
Rich people who think you can keep the beach to yourselves, I hope you're reading this. We will be back. You don't own the beach. I know you'd like to believe your money gives you exclusive rights to it. That is distressing on so many levels. You do not see the error of your ways.
I will not out your break in public. That is not my way. However, I will warn you not to delude yourselves into thinking those waves belong to you and to you alone.