Cyclops

The drive to reach this wave is a slow unraveling of civilization, with each turn taking you further from the familiar, closer to something raw, something primal. no people, just the wilderness, holding its breath. Cyclops waits, looming like a myth across the water, a thick slab of water detonating on a razor sharp barnacle encrusted granite reef. There’s a stillness before it breaks, a heartbeat where the entire world feels suspended in the pull of massive amounts of energy. Then it hits, crashing down with a force that reverberates through ocean shuddering everything around it. Salt spray fills the air, blurring the edges of the landscape, and you’re reminded that out here, you're a guest. This place belongs to itself—a land ruled by sharks in the deep, and birds sweeping low across the water, their cries carried on the wind. You are left in awe, immersed in the depth of isolation. There’s no one else, around just you on the razor-thin line between civilization and the wild. It’s dangerous, but it’s real. You feel it in your bones. Out here, with Cyclops appearing in front of you it’s as if you’ve found the edge of the world.