It’s 7:30am some May morning, and I’m knee deep in frigid, Pacific surf. Well, they’re in the surf, and they’ve probably been there hours already – the guys with the wetsuits and boards. I’m wearing shorts and a Vans hoodie, yelling at my camera to focus as the guy I’m tracking catches a right. After he makes the wave and dives off, I release the breath I’m holding and pause to look around. The sky is the same dull grey as the ocean that meets it. The May greys have a solid hold on the coast of San Diego. It’s between sets, and the almost still water is peppered with surfers who waxed their boards before the sun broke the horizon.