We hunker down for the last night and then it’s time to go. The trip has been nothing short of epic and, as we head to the airport, we stop for a final session at Nirvana. They have to pull me out of the water and as we motor away I glance back at peeling head high waves, 300 yards of glassy crystal-clear perfection. Totally empty. The kind of waves that each one of us has always dreamed about. This is what soul is all about. But wait – what am I saying? You don’t want to come to the Marshall Islands. The water’s cold and murky, the beer’s warm, there’s people everywhere scrapping over terrible surf. No wind. No fish. Oh, and did I mention? It smells strangely like a dead wildebeest …
For more information on dream trips with Keith Teboul to these secluded spots please visit marshallwaves.com