Cresso's Magic

I’ve jagged a seat on one of the surfboard shaped benches that dot the foreshore up to the Point, sitting with a Mudgee shiraz to idle through the remainder of the day, having already exhausted myself attempting to place a board in the position where a wave will pick it up and propel it and me forward, down its face, and onto joy.

Today is the first day of the school term but the classrooms must be empty as the van park, playgrounds, and beach are crazy with kids enjoying a warm sunny winters day, while their parents enjoy riding the steady stream of waves curling around the point.

To my left, the bottom of the sun is about to dip below the top of the hills that sit inland from the bay, as two young women lift their boards off the roof of their car, having just put their wetsuits on.  One board is a log, at least 10ft long, the other, I’m guessing is about 9ft, both with the classic mal long single fin.

The tide is in, covering the sand that is unusually for this point fringing the rocks running along the foreshore, allowing for the first time today surfers to ride a wave from the point in to the estuary.  As always, there is a continual procession up and down the path that sits just above the rocks and between the carpark and the golf course.  A kid rides past on a skateboard, followed by an old man, looking just as comfortable as the kid, followed by a late middle aged woman in tight faded blue jeans and top of calf ugg boots, looking beyond comfortable, not even nonchalant, almost bored, as she gracefully arced left and right down the path.

The two young women have now scrambled down the rocks and are wetting their feet entering the surf as the top of the sun dips below the hills.  Half as many board riders remain as when the sun first touched the hills.  By the time the glow of the setting sun has started to dim, the women have taken their place in the lineup.  My ageing eyes and the fading light make it hard to determine which of them is the first to catch a wave.

Two waves before, a surfer had caught a wave from near the point and rode it almost to the shore, riding with both feet momentarily on the nose before dancing back along the board in order to drive it back down the face to gather the speed required to push past a flatter section, and then dancing back to the nose again to hold the desired stance of both feet facing forward and the torso angling back from the hips to balance her weight on the board; the nimbleness of her dancing feet betraying the violence of the wave crashing on the back of the board.

The show enjoyed by the many spectators sitting on the grass, the rocks, the back of their vans, and of course, the surfboard shaped benches; many sipping a beer or wine, some even a kombucha, with all the worries of the world forgotten as Cresso casts its spell.  This is magic.

Where am I?  Yeah, I’m somewhere on the NSW coast.