What do you image whenever you think about your personal surf hell? Infinite wave hold-downs? Browsing subsequent to 1 hundred middle-aged dudes named Chet? Getting surrounded by foam-board-wielding inexperienced persons that may burn you actually and figuratively for all eternity? The wave-rich state of Nebraska? Or perhaps you’re dwelling it proper now – and, in case you are, welcome to hell, fellow sinner! It is nice down right here – method higher than these pious bunch of suckers up in heaven strumming lutes and frolicking by means of fields. We have got booze, heavy metallic, the 2 finest Beatles, and loads of browsing. We have even acquired a Sbarro now! Can I get you a heat Zima?
Everlasting surf damnation is all about nuance. You may’t simply throw a pile of souls right into a lake of fireplace, add some swell, and anticipate everybody to be terrified. That is simply one other summer season Saturday at Lowers. The Satan is within the particulars, they all the time say. And that is why my private surf hell begins in an unlikely place – Maine.