I’m a sucker for the summertime vibe, a boardshort sporting, flip-flop trotting kind of guy.

But, before I jump into surfing, let me start by saying this: Last Wave Brewing Co. is one of my favorites. Not a favorite local brewery, but a favorite compared to the tens of dozens I’ve visited over the past few years. Over the past few years, my wife and I have made it a tradition to visit breweries when we travel. We’ve checked out breweries in Ocean City, Georgetown, Waikiki and Atlanta. Last Wave sits at the top.

They’re always formulating different brews, mixing them up for the seasons. But they also brew some regulars. A-Frame is a recurring must-try. It’s an IPA, and I know that alone triggers reactions as if I said I put pineapple on pizza (I do that, too). But put it this way, my wife never liked IPAs until she tried A-Frame. Among the many beers Last Wave concocts, their 3/2 Black Lager is their best. Now back to the beginning.

I think of myself as a summer-time soul. Damn those things people call socks. But as I surf more and more throughout the year, the more I realize the soul cleanse is consistent. In New Jersey, fall surfing presents a shift. Yes the waves get better, but there’s a mental shift, too. The sun rises later, so I’m plunging into the dark sea while the stars gleam overhead. The air and water temperatures dip. Not freezing, but cool and refreshing. It’s like when you’re taking a steaming hot shower, fogging every mirror in the house, then suddenly the hot water runs out. You get that first blast of cold water and realize it feels kind of good. You’ve got mentally be ready for that quick burst of crispness as the sea washes over your body and pushes through your suit.

Surfing in New Jersey during the fall is as refreshing as it gets. I put on a 3/2 wetsuit – a thin one – that barely keeps the cool ocean out and lets me stay in for at least an hour. On October 27, I had series of fortunate events. Work wrapped a little early. Small, peeling waves lapped the Bay Head beach. And we had plans to meet up with friends at Last Wave for dinner.  

As my meetings dissipated, my crew and I started texting to see who wanted to get in an afternoon surf. Before I knew it, an unplanned session unfolded. Meet at Karge, said one of my friends. “Huh?” I asked. I’d never heard of the place. Apparently, it’s a street in Bay Head and to this day, I’m not 100% sure how to pronounce the word. Thank God I don’t live on that street. So I packed up my gear, pulled on my 3/2, slid my new 1968 longboard into my Mazda 6, and drove into Bay Head.

Karge is a great spot. If you surf Bay Head, Bridge Ave is the closest to the main road from Point Pleasant, so it can get busy. Karge is only a few roads north and tends to be less crowded. Today, it had a sandbar that the knee-high waves broke along pretty far from the beach itself. None of my friends showed up, so it wound up being myself and another random older guy. We took turns grabbing waves, cheering each other on, and wiping out. After a long week, it was the perfect cleanse.

I got home, showered off the salt, and then my wife and girls and I jumped in the Pilot and headed to Last Wave. Our group found a table outside in the garden then we went inside to check out the brew options. It was 3/2 weather. I’d had my 3/2 on earlier that day. The past few weeks I’d been looking for 3/2 Black Lager at the local liquor stores where Last Wave distributes. Over and over, I struck out. There I was looking at the beer menu that day. Still no 3/2. So I made my pick and moved on.

Until I did that thing I have a tendency to do – I talked to someone. The easiest path from the garden to the bar cuts threw the heart of the brewery. All the tanks line up like massive silver soldiers. I walked through, glass-in-hand, and noticed a brew master working his magic between tanks. “Excuse me,” I said. “Love your beers. My absolute favorite is the 3/2. Any chance you’re making it this year?”

He smiled at me. “As a matter of fact, take a walk with me.” We moved in front of a shiny tank and he grabbed a small flight-sized glass and poured out a dark, glorious lager. “It’s still a little young, but ready to drink. This one’s for me.” He grabbed another glass, poured the 3/2, and handed it to me. “This one’s for you.” We clinked glasses in cheers. “It’s one of my favorites, too, he said. I’ll take you a full pint in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, this just made my day.”

“Of course, and if you want more, just tell the crew I said you could have it.”

We sat outside in the beer garden as the sun dipped and the air cooled. My girls played with their friends. We chatted with our friends. And I drank and shared my 3/2 Black Lager. The perfect ending to a perfect 3/2 kind of day.