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Showing posts from December, 2011

One of those unexpected midday stoke sessions

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If you want to surf in Byron Bay during summer, in the depths of the school holidays, then give up on any expectations about getting waves. However, what you can expect is thronging crowds, and getting snaked, dropped in on and interrupted on the few waves you manage to snare. You must compromise: speeding along int rim is awesome, but when there are 100+ people in your line, you have to turn your board. You have to accept being patient. I mean, you really have to love lineups. So when a few of us decided to go in for a surf in the worst of Byron's summer lineups - The Pass - we were dubious at best. There were uncertain conversations, there were 'Are you sure?' moments. But we went anyway. The sky was clear blue, the sun was shining, the water was like crystal and there was little swell leaving us few other options. And we figured everywhere was going to be busy anyway.

As I parked I saw Jules and Gary heading to their car. What's it like? I asked, hesitantly. Just don…

Christmas eve

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Fridge poetry. Endless thank yous to friends, to home, to the ocean.

Bouquets. Love. Passing.

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Remembered

I remember the surf I had on the day I found out my mother’s cancer was back and she was going to die: the colours, the sunset, the wetsuit, the disbelief, the sadness. I remember the evening light on the water. I lay flat on my board, my face at water level, watching the orange, gold, lilac and silver of the fading day shimmering on the glassy green surface of the sea. It was so beautiful. I think of that day when I surf of an evening. I think of my mother then. That beautiful soft light is bittersweet for me. From that evening, the ocean, the light, the time of day, the water, the waves, my board all wove their way through the following years, so the moments of pain, reflection, sadness and love found traction in my memory in ways that make sense, for me.I remember the moment when I realised my heart was breaking. When I paddled out into the crowd last summer, thinking I could escape from the fog of sadness. But it didn’t work, nothing worked, and I was frustrated. I remember the to…