Been many a fond cane swell to speak of(as far as recent ones, Cristobal made my spot better than I've ever seen it) but as far as biggest, most memorable, for me that's Hurricane Luis in '95. Talked aboot it here before, but since we're on the subject, I'll do it againe. And cornstarch, if that's what you really believe, wait for the right storm and head North. Anyway, called the Watershed surf report that morning and clearly remember Peter Pan's voice frothing, saying how GH was looking like mini-Pipe. So that was our first stop, and as we made our way up the South coast every spot was firing. Easily 10-12' faces. Spitting, barrelling madness. I was 14 at the time, never thought I'd see waves like that on the EC. Way out of my league at the time. So we head up the bay to a point I knew about, a spot I'd go to when I wanted something smaller than what was going on elsewhere. It's a cove with a long left point when working and then beach break peaks to the other end of the cove. Easily 10' on the face, we got destroyed trying to paddle out at the beachie. Meanwhile I'm watching these big lefts reel from the point, I find myself in the channel, and next thing ya know I'm out there. My first time in what I considered to be big(relatively), long period surf. I couldn't catch sh!t. Paddled for several waves but just couldn't get on them. Started to freak out a little and contemplated trying to walk in on the rocks, which as we all know could have easily been disastrous. Finally, I'm in position and a solid one comes right to me. I made it, a screaming fkn left, I remember looking back at the barrel thinking please god let me stay ahead of this thing. Rode it all the way to the sand and that was my one wave for the day. Took a ride up to PJ at that point just to see what was going on. Againe, mind blown. Never thought I'd see anything like this here. The spot just south of teh point was heaving, you could see the spray before you even rode up the little hill overlooking the point. It was huge, dudes were charging. I clearly remember a catamaran heading out of the breakwater, and once it was in open water, the mast would disappear b/t the troughs of waves. That day was amazing in so many ways but it also kinda focked with my mind. I've only really been out in anything comparable a couple times since. And while I'm not ruling out more size in the right spot, preferably a warm one, I'll never forget the feeling of being way out, not being able to catch a wave, for a few moments, pure hopelessness, followed by an adrenaline spike I hadn't yet to that point in my life.