The Canadian Road Rager is not only the hard-on a surfing man receives upon entering Canada; the term is also defined as a “seemingly jolly and greasy road trip through the U.S. Northeast coastline and the Maritime Province of Nova Scotia.”
On Friday September 20th, 2019, a group of young men packed a semi-uncomfortable SUV after scoring waves in NJ and tried not to get too excited about the trip ahead. But, with the boners they already adorned after their first sesh, it was looking like an uphill battle.
Nonetheless, they set off—leaving perfect Jersey waves behind for a place they’d never even surfed before and had done little-to-no research on. A few Jersey Jews and four hours of Long Island traffic later, the crew found themselves atop a colorful, grassy cliffside looking down at mounding, overhead right walls. After driving for much of the trip, Billy had the biggest boner and volunteered to charge the meaty swell.
As the sun sank in the sky, Billy (also known as “Squilliam” to his comrades) did the sacred rock dance down the cliffside and across the stone coastline. Sean, Tim, and Ryan sat flaccidly on the shore watching their friend (get drydocked). As it got nearly too dark to see, Billy plucked a set wave and steezed all the way back to his boys. They all walked back—the first of their very buggy foot treks to the local campsite.
Cooking meat over flame, the shredders encountered the first of the Northeastern Bug Brigade—including large mosquitos, fat spiders, furry caterpillars, and Daddy Long Legs that looked like the Mind Flayer from Stranger Things. Raccoons peered down at the men with beady, lifeless, and glowing eyes waiting for the estranged dudes to fall asleep with their cooler unattended.
Point breaks peeled and boners blossomed as Fall in the Northeast treated the young surfers with lingering topical swell and weather. When swell faded, the men travelled by ship, North to their next destination. Greasy hands gripped lobster rolls as the team readied for their longest voyage into a foreign nation.
Half a day later, the travelling troop found themselves hunting for surf and Canadian cuisine. The crew soon learned that the only food in Canada came from pizza establishments. Even worse, the swell that had been reported to send overhead waves to Halifax had diverted—reducing the would-have-been giant swell. Instead, the young surfers got regulated at a three-foot right point break by an anti-Patriot. The boys grew doubtful, and so too their boners.
Days went by… bonerless. However, the dudes learned that without huge boners, their expectations dropped. They cherished each wave they surfed a bit more, and when swell did arrive, they found themselves in the proper position. The boner that yelled “Get off my wave Americans,” was seen surfing the right point amidst a 40-person crowd, while the travelers scored empty goofy runners.
The boys had to learn how to chill their boners and in the end, they’re trip was a success. Photos below–boners cropped. Enjoy (: