Chasing the Day

Sitting in the van at Kioloa, parked at the opposite end to the boat ramp, just where the road bends into the car park and the beach first comes into view.

From the lounge in the back of the van, I can look down through the barrel of the waves breaking on the island sitting just off-shore.  A remarkable view that is rarely available unless you are on a board sitting in the lineup.

A group of three have just come in on a jet ski, two boards between them and a very large camera.  They’ve been surfing the bommie , and then went over to the island.  A friend of their’s walks back past the markets out front of the Marine Rescue boat shed carrying the biggest camera and lens you will ever see.  The camera is a box bigger than a six pack, and the end of the lens opens out to almost the size of a basketball hoop.

My tendency to feel inadequate right now is offset by the fact that no one is surfing off a beach this morning, the big straight on swell creating mess rather than clean walls.  But sitting dry and warm in the van while looking down the line into the barrel makes me think that someone has made more out of today than I will.

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Walking in the half-light before dawn towards The Point the following day, I see a surfer leap off the rocks into the water.  The next time I see him he is clambering out, well short of where a normal ride would end.  A mis-timed entry perhaps?

Trying again, he stands on the rocks in waist deep water waiting for a wave to appear, then jumps in and starts paddling.  Each ride, no more than 30 metres, sees him dragged across the rock slab, the occasional limb appearing above the whitewash as he rolls and bumps along the rocks, before climbing out, and walking back to the start.

Where yesterday the kids off the jet-ski looked barely old enough to have their licence, today, this surfer looks old enough to be handing his in.  Their exuberance and looseness replaced today by tightness and stoicism.

Both of us now stand waiting patiently for the next set to come through, me dry and warm, he in waist deep water holding his board in front of him, ready to leap.  The difference between us?

He knows!  He knows there will be one wave that will open up and allow him to slide across onto the face before swooping down and carving a graceful bottom turn.  And that one wave will make it all worthwhile.

I turn as the sun starts to rise and walk back to the van, unconvinced there will be a wave worth chasing today but determined to try anyway.