Anchor Point is a right-hand point break north of Taghazout that, when it works, gives you a wave you can ride for as long as your legs hold. When it doesn't work it's a rocky headland with fifty people staring at it. For eight days it didn't work.
We surfed the other spots. Hash Point, Panoramas, a beach break the locals called something I never caught. All fine. All not the thing. Every morning the three of us walked to the headland at seven and looked at the sea and the sea looked back, flat, smug, Moroccan.
Day nine the swell arrived overnight. By eight there were sixty people out and I was one of them, and I sat wide and let the better surfers have the set waves, and then a lump came through that nobody wanted, and I did, and I stood up, and I was still standing up about two hundred metres later, which is longer than I'd stood on anything in my life.
I'll be talking about it at Christmas. I'll be talking about it at Christmases I haven't had yet. That's the deal with the good ones. You don't get many, and you keep them all.