This latest dispatch from The Collective Quarterly floats in a right triangle between Santa Barbara to the west, Ojai to the east, and Ventura to the south. Consistent, perfect waves roll in off the point break and caress this parched patch of land. It’s a place where the oaky scent of chaparral wafts in the air after a light drizzle, and hot springs bubble up from the earth in the arid Sespe Wilderness. It’s a stretch of coastal highway where motorcyclists gallop their iron ponies at full throttle.

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