After spending a few days with Dalton—who had more patience than I deserved for someone essentially watching a less-experienced version of himself fumble through—I started heading north. On a whim, I decided to stop in Tahoe, before continuing to chase a clean winter swell on California’s northern coast.

I threw out one last bat signal to anyone I knew in the area, not expecting much. To my surprise, Sean and Veronica (Ronnie), who’d briefly been my roommates during a fall stint on the North Shore of Oahu, were quick to respond. They cleared time on their day off from Palisades to meet up.

In Hawaii, I’d come to appreciate their simplicity. Despite being in one of the most exotic locations in the United States, they lived with intention and minimalism—paying for a shared bed, two battered surfboards that barely floated, and a moped that may or may not have been street legal. They worked hard in Tahoe all winter and lived beneath their means in Hawaii to support a lifestyle that felt entirely their own. And they seemed genuinely content in it.

Their adventures, though, were anything but minimal. Sean’s Instagram was slowly gaining traction, filled with wild stunts and effortless flips—his mellow demeanor a total mismatch for the high-adrenaline stuff he captured. Ronnie, more extroverted and quick to laugh, balanced that out with chill hobbies: ceramics, beachcombing, and hustling anyone who dared play her in Rummy.

I’ll admit, I was a little nervous to see them again. Sometimes you worry that people you only knew in a specific context won’t feel the same when the backdrop changes. But real ones stay real, no matter where you run into them. That’s something I’ve always taken pride in—presenting the same version of me in the military that I did with friends outside of it. What good is being competent at your job if you have to pretend to be someone else to do it?

So reconnecting with Ronnie and Sean—this time on the North Shore of Tahoe instead of Oahu—felt grounding. We met at Skylandia Beach. I told myself I’d just hang for an hour. But after putting together a quick video that captured their dynamic—something I’d always admired—we ended up spending the rest of the evening catching up, trading stories, and talking about everything and nothing.

Moments like that are what kept me going. They reminded me that meaningful connection was still possible on this trip, even if rare.

And it came at the right time. I knew the road ahead through northern California and Oregon would be quiet. I had originally planned to travel that stretch with others. But the delays early in the trip threw off the timing, and those plans faded. I was stepping into a solo stretch I hadn’t expected, and it stung a little knowing that some of my photography ideas—like the Oregon surf film—would have to wait.

Still, I tucked the nostalgia away. This trip was never going to go exactly as planned. The challenge now was to embrace what was, not just what could’ve been.