Words and Photos by Danny Moody

It’s Saturday night, August 26th. Local videographer Greg Panas, Peter Mendia, and I are sitting at the table stuffing our faces with “Moody secret recipe” cheeseburgers. Hurricane swell is fresh on our minds.

The 2006-07 Atlantic hurricane season has started with a crawl. When a little storm named Ernesto (just south of Cuba and trying to make a name for itself) popped up on the radar, every east coast surfer anticipated action.

Back at the table, eyes had now turned to double fudge brownies. As I am recalling the latest forecast track; taking the storm into the Florida panhandle, I blurt out some gargling brownie muffled sound. Peter and Greg, wiping the spewed chocolate from their faces, say “huh.” AMAZONS, I blurt out again, this time a little more legible. No one can forget the photos that came out of Panama City last year as Hurricane Katrina barreled up the gulf.

Over the next two days, we watched the storm diligently. As each storm update was posted, the track was shifted more and more to the east. By mid-day Monday the 28th Tropical Storm Ernesto, or Ernie as we fondly named it, was now forecasted to run up from the south, through the Everglades and sucker punch Broward and Palm Beach Counties, our back yard.

The panhandle and west coast we now officially out of business. Our only hope was that the 45-50 mph winds of Ernie would shift far enough east to create enough wave fetch across the straights of Florida.

Calls go out Tuesday to Ryan Helm and Jensen Callaway. The guys are eager and waiting. Mid-day forecasts start coming in, taking the storm from the south, straight up the middle of the state. By this time, the wind is starting to energize the waters off of southeast Florida. Reports from Miami, Ft. Lauderdale and Lake Worth start trickling in. Pompano Beach local Skeeter Zimmerman has been monitoring the south spots all day but doesn’t come back with much to be excited about.

Finally around 5PM Tuesday, just as Ernie was making landfall in the north end of the Florida Keys, the waist high wind slop start showing some sort of form. Helm and Callaway, followed by an army of storm hungry surfers descend upon Kite Beach just north of the Juno Pier. As the tide starts to fall, 20kt offshore winds start to light up the break. The session lasted until dark.

Wednesday morning; the phones are a buzz with reports, just not the reports we wanted to here. Pete Mendia calls in from Palm Beach with discouraging news. The wind was blowing out our favorite breaks. Skeeter Zimmerman checks in from Ft. Lauderdale. The strong south winds, overnight, had not produced the results that were expecting.

It’s time to reorganize our thoughts. I hop back on the phone with Helm, Callaway and the rest of the Jupiter crew to pool our thoughts. As the center of the storm moves farther north and east, we notice a small glimmer of hope. The center of the storm is forecasted to past just to the west of us, we place our faith in a small window of opportunity that will present itself around 3PM. At 2PM, we launch the scouting mission. Winds are now steady out of the south at 30-40 knots. At 2:30, Jensen Callaway calls from Kite Beach. This is the place.

The opportunity we were looking for was the sudden wind shift from south to west as the center of the storm past to the west of us.

Helm and Callaway head south down the beach and Greg Panas and I moved north to catch them as the fast current swept them north.

Just like clockwork, the wind started to make its move. Within 10 minutes the wind had shifted from south to southwest. The strong offshore wind was now starting to clean up the slop. The guys took full advantage of the opportunity and charged it. What we thought was going to last for 2 hours was over in an hour. One hour of per bliss and mayhem while 100+ surfers hammered every opportunity they could get.

At 4:30, I had enough. Rainsqualls and wind had my camera equipment soaked. I loaded the gear back in the car and proceeded to dislodge the large grains of sand that were wind driven into my skin. A little discouraged but stoked. Stoked that we were able to capture a small opportunity that nature blew our way.