I’d been there before on a failed surf trip. A brief trip. Tasman Peninsula. It’s a beauty. Tidal flats, pine farms, pear orchids, summer homes and one of the most fucked up waves ridden.
Sipped goon at the campsite as the sun dipped behind the hipster tree with a couple of French lads. A high roller card dealer and a Pall-bearer. Funny pairing. I told them so, and they agreed.
We drank a few more cups from the silver sack and the sky lit up.