Superstorm Riley Days 6 & 7: When Our Luck Ran Out

Day 6, the day after Riley’s best day, was supposed to be Riley’s best day. Forecasts were calling for solid (but not too solid) groundswell on the Outer Banks, accompanied by pure west winds. For some odd reason, a reason that even Outer Banks surf-mayor Brett Barley couldn’t fathom, the winds chose to go northeast instead. While the entirety of the U.S. east coast was blessed with pumping swell and offshore gales, our 100-mile stretch of beach was a swirling vortex of bleh.

This was a blessing and a curse. While it was unfortunate to lose a day of the swell, I think everybody needed a break. After five straight days of hunting tubes, your body becomes tired, sore; your brain chemically imbalanced. The dopamine hangover can make surfing seem like a drag, even if the waves pumping. This is a wonderfully terrible state to achieve, and because of its recent prevalence, nobody in our crew was devastated about a day off.

A common occurrence on Day 6.

Photography

Michael Ciaramella

Well… almost nobody.

Brett Barley didn’t have a great Winter Storm Riley experience. On Day 1 he tried to surf the Lighthouse but got denied by 15-foot whitewater, eventually retreating to the Sound for a novelty sesh. Day 2 he came to New Jersey, scored Newmibia, then headed back to the Banks. Days 3-4 he couldn’t get home due to waves washing over the dunes, which eventually forced him to take a boat back onto Hatteras Island to surf on Day 5, which was expected to be pumping. Day 5 was too big, and despite Brett witnessing one of the biggest tubes ever on the Outer Banks, the sandbar disintegrated by the time he made it into the lineup. Day 6 was as described above.

“I could cry,” Brett expressed on his Instagram, after the let-down that was Day 6. This was virgin territory for the OBX local. Typically, he’s the one scoring while other east coasters are chasing their tails. But Riley was not a typical swell in any capacity. 

So for Brett, everything was riding on Day 7. Once again the wind forecasts looked good — which, frankly, didn’t give us much confidence at this point — but the swell was meant to drop significantly. We banked on the fact that the Lighthouse was one of the coast’s biggest wave magnets and hoped that it would remain solid through the night. Unfortunately, we were met with chest high leftovers.

Pretty, but not what we had driven through the night to surf.

Photography

Michael Ciaramella

But it was hard to be bummed. What we’d found the five days prior were, as most surfers not named Brett will attest to, the best string of east coast surf in recent memory. From Newmibia to New York, through Delmarva and Florida, all the way to the Caribbean and beyond, Winter Storm Riley was nothing short of incredible. So we headed home in remarkably good spirits despite getting skunked down south.

For me, after covering 1,800 miles on the road, subsisting on a diet wholly bereft of health benefits and achieving no more than four hours of sleep per night, I can state unequivocally: this was the best surf trip of my life.

Your author, in a moment of pure elation.

Photography

Jay Rutkowski

Thanks to all the friends and family who helped me along the way, to the New Jersey state government for replenishing Newmibia’s sand at the perfect time, and to Winter Storm Riley for providing such a historic run of surf. You will not soon be forgotten.