The Treasure Map
Our eyes are still on the pot of gold: the wave heavier than its busier neighbours, the one almost impossible to find without a guide, the one you’re not allowed to surf without a guide.We’ve got the spot pinned on Tom’s phone. We’ve got the hire car. And our treasure map marks the exact, unmarked turn-off from the highway.
The search begins.
We feel the buck of rocks under the car’s chassis. Hear the squeal of branches on the chrome. Get chased by a bull.We double back to a locked gate, with a sign that says, in emphatic typography: NO TRESPASSING.
