Simple enough--who was the most stoked surfer you've met in Oregon? And why?
As for me, there could be a hundred answers, but I do remember a bodyboarder at Otter Rock, an older guy who couldn't ride boards for some hip or leg reason, and it wasn't even a great day, but three or four feet, yet glassy, a winter afternoon, and I think everybody (all six of us) got rides of some duration. Nevertheless, this old bodyborader got more rides than everybody, plus he had a big grin, turning up and down those little walls all the way inside (I'm done surfing by then, winding up my leash around the fin, standing in shallow water) and he flies across the wallette into the shorebreak. Another surfer--somebody going out--and I started laughing to see this guy doing climb and dives on his belly on a two-footer, so right, and he got splooshed by the close-out at a depth of six-inches, turning over in the mad cylinder and coming up grinning, straightening out in the white water, half-on, half-off his board., dragging sand with his fins