Waving down the head bartender, he snarled out his order, “Pour me another scotch, Sam.”

Taking advantage of the early-morning quiet, Logan hauled his windsurfing board down to the deserted beach just as the sun was cresting over Alleria Peak. He slipped the board into the water, adjusted the mast and sail and then slid on top and started paddling.

It might’ve sounded strange to someone who didn’t know him, but from the first time he swam in these waters, Logan had recognized Alleria as home. It was warm all year round so he never had to wear a wet suit. And it was clean. Even at twenty feet, he could see the sandy bottom of the sea. That was a minor miracle after years of surfing and sailing the rough and churning waves off the coast of Northern California-where he and his brother had grown up and where, when they were seven years old, their father had taught them how to surf.

Logan paddled a few more yards out. Then in one quick move, he rose to a standing position on the board and yanked the uphaul rope, pulling until the sail was upright. Grabbing hold of the mast and boom, he angled the sail until it caught the barest hint of wind. Balancing his weight on the board, he turned and headed for open water beyond the tip of the peninsula that formed the bay.

Alleria Bay itself was a tranquil inlet with few waves and the mildest of winds. But out beyond the break, the eastern trade winds provided plenty of excitement for any resort guests interested in windsurfing or sailing.

In a few hours, Logan would have contracts to study and phone calls to make. But right now, surrounded by wind, water and speed, he tried to blow off all thoughts of business and enjoy the moment. It wasn’t easy; he was hardwired for success and had had a difficult time relaxing lately.

An unexpected swell crested and broke into a wave inches from his board. Logan took instant advantage, raking the sail back, then throwing the mast hard into the wind while jumping and lifting the board into the air and twirling it over the wave.