A firsthand account of reporting at Mavericks
They had the road blocked at Capistrano, so we had to park on the east side of Highway 1 and make our way the mile or so to the beach entrance. My nephew, Ethan, had the day off and was along for the ride, eager to see the infamous breakers. Knowing that we only had a few hours of the morning, I decided we needed to make haste.
Like a trooper, the 12 year old kept up with my 6’2” frame as I barged past the Mavericks Festival tents and the Half Moon Bay Brewery until we got just beyond the Green Pier, where I made a beeline for the beach. Sheriffs had the entrance blocked and steadfastly refused us access. I showed them my press pass and they laughed.