At 7am, I was in my car – bags and surfboards packed for a three-week trek down and back up the California coastline. As I drove down towards Big Sur, I noticed leaves and dust begin to blow across the road and towards the ocean. A suggestion of offshore winds, surgically shaping hollow waves and making for perfect surf conditions. As I near Point Sur, my right foot gently increases pressure on the gas pedal, rushing to a closer vantage point. I turn a bend, and see mist spraying off of the top of uniformed rolling waves in what seemed like slow motion. As I pull up to a vista, I jump out of my car with my camera, and start shooting away.

Now, many have driven past Point Sur. And may have even been lucky enough to see the waves break on a clean day. But as I waited, watched, and captured some of these beautiful moments, I lifted my eye from the viewfinder, only to see a big red sign that read “No Trespassing. Private Property”. Rusty barbed wire lined the top of the fence right in front of me. At this moment, it set in with me that there is a high likelihood that this wave has either never been surfed or only a few brave enthusiasts have jumped this fence to run down to the beach. I took it all in, and got back in my car to continue on. As I drove away, I couldn’t help but to think of the mystery of this perfect wave. It was kinda like crushing on that older waitress at a diner in middle school. The one that wears a bow in her hair and knows your name. But is totally way too hot. And she dates the quarterback. Your dream girl. Later that night, as soon as I got into cell service, the first thing I did was search “surfing Point Sur”. After some digging on nothing short of entertaining surfer forums with endless trolling and shit-talking, I found my dream girl’s deal.

First, the land between the road and water, as well as 500 feet of water is a Spanish land grant, rented to El Sur Ranch since 1850. But the owner of El Sur Ranch, James Hill, apparently has not been so kind to the local surf community. Locals tell tales of the infamous Mr. Hill patrolling the land in a black pickup truck with shotguns, firing off rounds in the air to scare surfers off of the land. Mr. Hill has also called police on trespassers, who issue a $500 ticket to first time offenders, and a $5000 ticket as well some jail time to second time offenders.

Second, a legend dating back to 1973. Several confirm of a surfer being swallowed whole by a killer whale here. Old-timers claim to know the victim, and vow to never step foot in this water again.

And 3. In 1985, Surfer Magazine rated this spot as the #1 spot in North America to get hit by a white shark. 200 feet offshore, lies a deep water trench in the reef, serving as mating and breeding grounds for herds of toothy big gray fish.

I set my phone down. I look at the photo on my camera once again. A part of me is now even more intrigued at the novelty of this wave. Maybe someone has surfed it for all I know. But one thing is for sure. My dream girl is a forbidden fruit. Maybe one day I’ll grow the balls to ask her out.