Advertisement
Published: January 11th 2006
Edit Blog Post
Big Tuesday
Definitely a little Nar Nar I went surfing last night. For those of you who have an interest in oceonography it was an 8ft swell with a 13 second period (ie 13 seconds between each wave, measured about 50 miles offshore), thus producing very big and heavy waves. I took these pics, but unforunately they don't really do it justice - but let's just say it was big, it was heavy and it was definately G-narly. Yes, with a capital and hyphenated G.
So, I paddled out (took a handful on the head as usual) but made it in about 10 mins - pretty good by my standards. Sat out back in peace for about 5 minutes. Saw a set coming - took all three on the head trying to get out past them, then had a decision to make. The voices were fighting in my head "get out back you pussy" - "Musk, come on son, this is no time to be a hero, the beach is only 80 yds away." Unfortunately the devil won that battle too. I paddled out back narrowly avoiding the next set then waited. It wasn't long before I realised that the rip had dragged me into... let's call
Nang tastic
Beautiful peeling close-out barrels from hell. TIme to get shacked. it.. the pocket. The pocket of death. The pocket of justice.
Well there is no justice in this world. If waves were like a game of poker the next set was clearly "pocket rockets." I paddled into this monster (it was probably only about a 7 -8ft face, yeah only (but remember this wave had travelled about 600 miles to be here and I had only travelled about 3). This wave clearly had something to say. I listened intently. It said something like "I'm going to pick some grass". Aaaah, it dawned on me - I'm gonna kick your ass!" As I felt myself slowly lift upwards and forwards I had reached the point of no return. Although I was facing the right way (to shore) it soon became clear that this would be a one-sided affair. The debating society stayed home. The prosecution made its case and the defence rested. Well, right up until the point when the defence got pitched over the falls and into some great dark abyss. This new underworld was very welcoming. Having sent me a rather informal invitation, he really didn't want me to leave. Then after minutes of waiting for something to
Second's Beach
A little more manageable - where the good (wise) surfers were. happen I got my foot out of the door, only for another of his friends to arrive and throw me back inside. This went on for some time, until I eventually said to myself "come on you're taking the piss now." It's usually at this point that someone says "this is no time to panic," when actually it was the perfect time to panic. I was struggling for air.
A bizarre thought entered my head. If you were to place a hammer and a feather at the top of my lungs at this point, and drop them simultaneously they would both reach the bottom at the same time - and pretty quickly too. I doubted that anyone had ever carried out this experiment, though it would be fascinating to see the results. As I wondered where and more importantly when, my next breath of air might be delivered I told myself - how one handles difficult times, shows the real essence and measure of one's true character. In fact I think it was the German philosopher Fredrich Nietztsche who said "what doesn't destroy me makes me stronger."
The technique, they say, for taking a wipeout is to go
My friends daren't look
Safest place to be. On the shore with your back to the sea. with the flow rather than expending energy and oxygen by fighting it. So I let nature take its course in a "freeballing" fashion. Fasten your seatbelts, you are about to experience a little turbulence. I found myself trying to recount my old physics lessons. I was pretty sure that gravity was working against me at this time ("mmm an apple would be lovely right now"), however i had some vague recollections of some dude called Archimedes. Didn't he say something about buoyancy and the weight of the water displaced. What the hell was it? Shit, if only my physics teacher wasn't so gay, and I'd actually had some respect for him. Peter Taylor I'm really sorry. As I recalled attaching crocodile clips to Peter Tayor's trouser legs while he wasn't looking, all became calm, just momentarily - until a door opened to another vortex. I didn't have a compass on me, so my sense of direction was somewhat hampered, though I momentarily debated with myself whether I should try and head north or south. Surely if I'm in the southern hemisphere I should head south? I let nature take its course.
Apparently our true character shines in our darkest moments. I had reached the intersection where I came face to face with who I thought I was, and who I really am. Before getting too caught up too much in this philosophical argument, daylight finally descended upon me and my lungs were rescued from imploding. "F***ing Spiders" I thought to myself. That was nang!
I had a couple of chuckles to myself. Bizarre how and why you do that after a near death experience. Maybe it was because I had recognised that this had been a great opportunity for real growth and deeper self understanding. Or maybe I was just mental.
I read somewhere that wipeouts are a part of the romance of surfing. I guess that would explain why I'm single. That was about as romantic as Liverpool going 3-1 down to Luton. Yeah, the romance of the FA cup!! Man Utd draw with Burton Albion - how romantic. What happened to flowers, poetry and the kama-sutra?
Anyway, I tracked down my board, still attached to my foot I was pleased to find, took a couple more on the head, then caught the next train to the beach (on my belly of course). Unfortunately there was no one to share my agony or jubilation with, so I guess that's why I wrote this blog.
There must be a moral to a story like this, perhaps - "Success is the result of right choices, chose your waves wisely," or "Respect the power of the ocean. Humility begets greatness, struggle begets strength, and sacrifice begets purity," or "always listen to your physics teacher, even if he is a natural born mincer."
So, as predicted the battleship actually did run down the rowboat. The Uzi did in fact kick defeat the pea-shooter. Mr T, really did kick the ass of the little dude at the start of Fantasy Island - you know the mini-me guy who says "dee plane boss, de plane". Mr T simply replied "I aint gettin on no plane," and ended the encounter.
Well, I will board the plane again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday.
Until next time...
Advertisement
Tot: 0.057s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 11; qc: 28; dbt: 0.0241s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1mb
parm
non-member comment
pl***er
wondered whether or not to show this to your mother. decided she will understand the lingo even less than me. may show it to her later. is there a separate web site relating all the word you are doing?!