Too Tired to Surf?

Tuesday morning started beautifully. It was earlier than the sun and the world had that just new again look. The back of Table Mountain was just visible as it lay hunkered down across the bay. The beautiful colours of dawn seemed to have no effect on that slumbering giant.

In front of us the sea rumbled in apparent confusion, its size far smaller than that predicted by misinformed climatologists. Out of nowhere a lump of swell birthed a great wave onto the rocky shelf that we know as our local surf spot, Paranoia!

Without delay we were in the water, and somehow I managed to make some personal breakthroughs. Was it possible that my surfing was looking up, that I was moving onto the next level at last? After two hours of fun, I quit the watery rollercoaster and was back at my desk before 08h15. More than ready to tear into a new day!

Friday dawned with the promise of much bigger swell. With some trepidation I found myself looking at the same surf break. This morning the sea was angry, belching up big heaving waves that thundered spent energy. Without having taken a step, I felt exhausted, weeks of interrupted and fitful sleep having taken their toll. Ever up for the challenge, I suited up and paddled wearily into the frothing windswept melee that was the takeoff zone.

The waves were big, more than twice my height, and I struggled to catch any of them. And then by accident I caught a wave. It was big and exhilarating but even the intense adrenaline rush did little to fuel my slow and long paddle back.

Later a behemoth of a wave rolled on over to us. The surfer in front of me jumped off his board instead of duck diving under it. In my tired mind, I wondered why, until I noticed that his board looked like a matchstick in front of an avalanche of foam. With haste I followed suit and swam deep until I felt my leash strain against my leg as it took brunt of the waves force. Then I swam upwards for ages, feeling the pressure reduce on my ears but battling to get out of the writhing frothy cauldron of spent energy. Eventually it released me and I gratefully breathed some fresh salt infused air. My little strength remaining had been violently sapped. It was time to get out!

Somehow I caught the next wave and was shocked to see it lurch and explode in front of me. With no thought for my feelings, it swept me into its roiling self, surged onward, and spat me out down the rocky coast. Gasping! Not the exit that I had desired! Instead I paddled for the small rocky exit, eventually found purchase with my feet. I then carefully picked my slippery rocky trail with care, only to find myself unceremoniously thumped by an unhappy watery leftover of global warming. Landing on top of the thin part of my board, on top of three of my fingers, on top of a rock! The rock stood firm, whilst my fingers tried to squeeze themselves into my board. Thankfully, my board obliged.

A hard lesson learnt. Exhaustion is not to be fooled with in dangerous conditions. Perhaps the three neat grooves in the side of my surf board may remind me long after my swollen, bruised, and bloody fingers have healed!

Bigger and better

What an afternoon!

I caught the biggest wave of my life! Absolutely incredible! There was swell in our bay on Friday, the offshore was stiff to heavy, and we were at our favourite surf break. Out way past backline, I waited for the set. Rather a silly thing to do when the normal waves were BIG enough. Then a soldier marched out of the horizon. I swallowed, told myself to breathe, and paddled like a man possessed. The offshore gusted up the face of the wave spewing forth clouds of water into my face. With my eyes closed, I gambled that I had actually caught this wave, and jumped to my feet. For a while it felt like I was slipping sideways down the side of the wave, almost like I was side slipping on a snowboard. Luckily for me, I still could hardly see, and yet somehow managed to dig in the rail of my surfboard, feel my stomach fall to my feet, the wind in my hair, and the absolute freedom of riding a bucking monolith of surging water. Seconds and a hundred meters later, I exited the wave before it thundered into splintered oxygen. A mate later told me that it was one of the most insane take offs he had seen, with a heavy wave curling over my head as I dropped into this deep pit. So, it had been better than I had thought! Oh boy!

Three hours and many spectacular crashes later, I wearily paddled my board to the shore. Our local surf break is called Paranoia for many good reasons. One of them being the rocks that line the shore! Using my right leg as an anchor by bashing it on a rock, I managed to exit sans grace. As I limped out of the sea, realisation struck me that me less than perfect surfing at the end of the session was due in part to my foot being completely numb with cold. I suppose 14 degree water will do that to one!

I turned and looked at the break. Smiled! Shook my head! And sighed with satisfaction!

Surfers got very excited yesterday. No matter which internet site you visited, they all said the same thing. Massive swell coming through on Sunday! To be more precise, sites predicted a 9 meter swell. At the right break, this is a 32 foot face wave, just under a four story building. All as a result of a massive storm out at sea that started thousands of kilometres away, then blown by thunderous winds and forced onto our shores. Wow, these things make me excited!

My normal surf break, aptly named Paranoia, has a wonderful wave when the right direction swell is at about 3 meters. I wondered what on earth it could look like with swell three times that size. I did not expect to be surfing but I did want to see those waves. So we took a drive, a voyeuristic surf check trip if you will! You have to understand that this is very unusual for surfers to pack their surf boards but know that they are most likely just going to look at waves! Like window shopping for men!

We did find some incredible waves. Just as well I had good mates with me in the car who held me back when I wanted to go in. You see, waves always seem far smaller when you look at them standing up. Try looking at them while lying on the floor and you get a better idea of how big they are when you are in the water.

Paranoia was breaking and really looked good to me. With no other takers, we drove on a bit further to a place called Virgins. Mainly because it is so rarely surfed! The swell just does not get big enough to make this place work. When I call it a place, it really is the edge of a bay, at the base of a 50 meter almost sheer cliff, and bounded by rocks. But it was working yesterday! Take a look at the pictures, it was BIG! Check out this surfer - you cannot see the top or the bottom of the wave in the second picture!


We actually had fun just watching some of our favourite haunts pummelled by monstrous surf. I did not get to surf but my neighbour and I got our jollies skating on my half pipe. Perhaps today I will be rewarded for my patience, and perfect waves will line up in front of me just awaiting my presence!

Well, I can dream...



It is hard to see in the photograph but you could park a house in the barrel in the first picture and you would be hard pressed to find a ladder long enough to get to the top of the second!