Its Monday morning, the buzz of the city has stopped.
I'm back in my Bush Hideout, just me and a back chorus of roosters and cicadas. As if woken from a big night out; overwhelming elation, some regret and the image of a woman that hardly knows I exist.
The elation is from "the feeling" that only a surfer knows. After thirty years of marriage, staring down the barrell of retirement into poverty, I'd been tidying mum's place for her 88th birthday and discovered my old malibu covered in dust, dirt and cockroach shit. "I thought you'd been stolen my old friend!". I hosed him down, noticed the dings, sun browning and gentle rocker. "May be I could take you out?".
During the luncheon party my bloated younger brother spoke of his wobbly surfing experiences of late. I was more interested to learn that his son, depressed by an adolescence centred on gaming and the tragic loss of a close friend, had taken up surfing. For my brother a return to surfing (like everything he half-did) was a Toad-esque Pursuit, for his son it sounded like a path towards solitude and beauty. He was surfing "about twice a day", the only way.
It had been like that for me for years, surfing came after sleeping and school or work. Crap like partying, girls and "life shit" came down the list ... before they overwhelmed me I lost the plot. I needed some of that solitude and beauty in my life again.
The sexy single mum next door to my mum's surfs with her son, a rising grommet I hear. She catches me down the side of the house eyeing tbe lines of my old mal' and meditating on the physical aspects of surfing, trying to rekindle that body-knowledge accumulated from years of devotion. She floors me with a flash of white teeth and a gentle wave. Back on track old boy!
Being high summer the beach was packed, but mostly with sun worshippers and groups of tattooed drinkers.WTF! Most of the surfers of my generation were lost in suburbia or were jaded by the crowds tbis place could pull. Over the years it has risen as a powerhouse of Australian and World surfing, and one of the Legends lives overlooking the waves. Typically summer sea breeze, chop and small waves. Perfect for me to fly below the radar and try to catch a few little ones, to awaken the body to baalnce and movement. The ability to read a wave has never left me, but my physique, posture and confidence had been buried in that crap marriage and years of raising and educating my two children. My son, nearly a foot taller, smiled at my nervous lack of coordination as I was being devoured by self-consciousness and doubt. I was either going to ride a few quiet ones or make a fair spectacle of myself as some Old Loser. The depths to which I'd sunk from a competitive club surfer were phenomenal, I'm thinking the raising of a World War II submarine.
Getting on the board, face just aft of the deck logo had to be adjusted for extra weight and less power in my arms! The humiliation I was putting myself through was massive, but I realised that being an Old Dude, created a kind of anonymity. Really, no one gave a fuck whether I sank or swam. But I did, this was about me rebuilding, getting back out there.
I avoided a group of six or so guys hovering where the sort of three feet waves were peaking more often. Lotd of waves were closing out because of the swell direction, too NE, but I could pick the odd small one that held up, here's one now. One and a half foot, but had a smooth should, I tossed my legs out over the side, grabbed the rails and twisted my 8'4" mal around and paddled like I was taking off on a 6 footer. Momentum gained, right now on your pegs, up, a microscopic wobble to the left as we reached the foot pf the wave, corrected, now a turn. Knowing my leg strength and coordination were shakey, and me being so bloody nervous, I fed weight into the turn very gently and around she came, as the bow rose above the midline of the face I eased back and let her glide down the line. That's when THE FEELING hit, inwardly I beamed. "So long suckers!" says Mr. T. The Ex, any doubters on the beach, all those people that use sex to flood our senses through advertising, anyone who ever dissed me can go and eat a plate of steaming shit, cos I'm over you small minded twits! Eat shit arseholes cos I'm on Top of The World!
There was a surfing logo years ago that said "only a surfer knows the feeling", and its so right. Being propelled through space on the crest of a wave, no matter what size, or how bumpy it is, is just a special feeling. For me too it had that sense of rekindling the self-pride that I'd got from surfing many years ago. As if Id been lying under a great pile of rubble and bodies, and just awoken and struggled to my feet and seen the light. So profound!
My son said cheekily: "got a wave dad". "Yep got a wave mate. Lookout!". And I caught just a few more, some I tried a small reo, others I just cruised along because the wave didn't allow me to do much else. But each time that buzz feeling. I couldn't restrain myself though and did try and do too much and fell off, I didnt have the fine coordination or leg strength to drive into hard turns, but that's ok I soothed to myself. Theres room to improve for God's sake, Ive only surfer a handful of times in the past 30 years ... what! 30 years, I count them to be sure. Yep, that's right. The Inner Smile was very soothing, yeh it wasnt big, I never impressed anyone with my skills, but I was surfing again. The thrill of being dowsed in dancing ocean waters, following the constant play of light on ots surfaces, watching other surfers perform, is another world. Some of the guys I surfed alongside those years ago are no longer alive, most couldnt manage what I've been through to get here, but some aurf "every day" and the lucky few own houses nearby that they secured before the place was made over by years of development.
But here tbis morning lpunging about in my wuiet Bush Hideout Im happy. No I cant manage an earlt morning surf very easily, yes my follow-up surf session yesterday afternoon was not was rewarding, and slightly embarrassing, but you know its like any Morning After; you're left with mixed feelings of joy and some shitty-ness. But spending a challenging and joyoud moments in one of nature's most beautiful playrooms was always going to offer massive rewards.
