August 2001: I was instrument guy on a 3-man survey crew (I know - a thing of the past) doing work in the area for about 2 weeks and got dropped off every morning at the same spot and we'd hike to the day's location, do our thing, and then hike back to get picked up befroe the last boat which I think was at 5:00. Alot of walking on sand all day with alot of heavy gear and water. Long pants. Thick mosquitos and snakes. Hot as hell.
1st mistake - no 4 wheelers.
Each day we'd survey an area a little furhter away so the days got "longer" as we went. On the last day, at about noon, at the furthest point possible from the drop off / pickup spot, a guy on our crew - big fat black guy - easily 300 lbs - was in obvious pain - to the point of tears - and was like,
"Dave - I can't walk back, mang."
"Why," I asked.
"Mang, these hemorrhoids be killing me and there's no way, bro."
For the next 4 hours, me and 1 other guy took turns carrying this guy piggy back across hot ass sugar sand for about a mile and a half back to the pickup spot - about 50 feet at a time.
The waves were all time there back in the 90's.
I miss surfing that spot.