a moment somewhere..

I've had this image floating around in a folder.  I was pretty slack when I saved it and so, I don't actually know who took it, much less who it's of, or where it was taken.  Apologies to those involved.

On the other hand, that's pretty cool in itself.  Just an image and your imagination.  Perhaps, that's how surfing should treat pictures of far off places.  With stone cold silence.  The only thing to say is: Have a look at this.  And then it's up to you.

Make no mistake, even if we knew the who and the where, there's still plenty of mystery going on here.  It's about a dragon, an orc, and an elf short of being the cover of a fantasy novel.  The backwash fanfare seems too perfect, as does the soft lighting.  But, as i've said before, moments like this tend to be fairly common when you just go looking for them.  Get up early, stay out late and choose the path less trodden.

A few weeks ago and mate and were surfing a local beachy.  It was sizey, and hollow, but really just closing out.  And most of the region's surfers had pulled in for it.  In hushed tones, we decided to laugh it off and check that reef out round the corner.  Wetsuits still on the waist we rolled out of the parking lot and went to check it out.  It was quite sketchy.  Slabby, sectioning off and the hardest part was deciding to paddle out.  Once that call was made, the next challenge was getting your head around the fact that the bigger ones were the better ones to go for.  Another mate tracked us down and the three of us just carried on trading waves.

It had been a gloomy day, but the rain was passing and the late evening light started piercing through the clouds.  The light bouncing off the water and shiny black kelp set a scene like the above, only a world apart.  A dark grey cover which is then underlit and every wet surface sparlkes beneath it.  The  mountain slopes rising to create an emerald wall on one side and the dun sky and sea extending on the other side to infinity.  The commaraderie of good friends.  The sense of a living ocean around you.

It was a great moment.  You had to be there.  But, I'm glad you weren't.  Now, go find your own.

A weekend away from the waves

That summer respite seems to be over.  The unseasonally epic waves of early January have left our shores, leaving a sweet aftertaste and a longing for more.  Who knows how long the wait may last.  Days become weeks.  Weeks turn to months.  The taste becomes feint, but still lingers.

The Cape has more to her than just waves.  If you turn your back to the ocean, you will see mountains - wherever you are in the Cape.  Sometimes, when you look at the sea, there will be peaks on the far side of the bay.  I've spent many an hour looking back at the shore, using a distant summit as a line-up and at the same time wondering what the view looks like from there.  There's a beach break that I enjoy surfing that has strong rips, and very few bearings to line up on.  There is a peak in the distance that's available.  If you look through the gap on the peninsula, and across the bay on the far side of it, you can line it up with a dune in the foreground.  It's high.  It's imposing.  And being the highest peak around, the view from the top is quite amazing.

We set ourselves the task of getting to the top.  We packed gear, decanted water, booted and strapped up and put our toes into the rocky flank. Two nights out in the open under the stars, surrounded by good company and shadows.  Two days of sweat and toil, with a few spots of blood to mix. 

It was a great trip.  We swam in streams.  We looked out on the world from great heights.  We found beautiful flowers.  We revelled in the elements.  And cursed their indifference at other occasions. 

We were burnt by the sun.  We were scratched by the bush.  We sweated salt into our wounds.  We stumbled on loose rocks.  We swore at each other.  We are still pulling splinters out of hands and shins.

We appreciated the little things.  A shady rock to hide behind.  A moment of windlessness.  A damp sarong draped over the shoulders.  Waking up during a night of discomfort and finding overselves beneath the ceiling of the Milky Way.  The suggestion of a cup of tea.  In the office, at the desk, an offer of a hot cup of something is taken for granted, or not taken at all.  In the mountains, a sweet steamy mug is most amazing prospect.

We cooked for each other and ate ridiculously well.  We shared food and jokes.  We breathed in good air and each others characters. 

It was as pretty much as good a weekend as one could have without getting a wave.  I'll just have to get my fix mid week.





 

A whinge

Actually, this is not a whinge.

The other piece I started writing was a whinge.  And you know what: no-one likes a whinge.  I should know that.  We're going hiking this weekend.  The first rule of hiking is: no whinging.  The second rule of hiking is: safety first.  And no, there's no conflict in that.

So instead of whinging, I'm going to focus on the positives.  Like the rad weekend I had.  Had a short surf on friday pm at a nearby beachy.  The lesson learned was: if it's good - go.  I rocked up, had a look, phoned my buddy who was finishing off work, went and sorted some stuff out, came back and paddled out into a fun little bank working off a rip.  Quick bowly right and some drawn out softer lefts.  For about 20 mins.  Then it started closing out.  And carried on closing out.  Then my buddy remembered he had cold beers in the car.  The decision made itself.  Then another buddy arrived.  All together now:  "You should have been here an hour ago."

We proceeded to a mate's place for a birthday braai.  it's a pretty sweet place - on the rocks.  And when I say on the rocks, I mean like at high tide there's a gulley under the balcony that washes through.  I woke up there to the sound of crashing waves and a slight fog - in my head at least.  It was early and I needed to get back to town, and so hit the road.  It took about 10 minutes to realise that the fog wasn't lifting and I was in no state to drive.  So I pulled into a laybay, rolled back the seat and had an epic dos.  An hour later a concerned cyclists woke me.  The fog had cleared but I now had images of lycra in my mind and so I took off out of there and found the nearest, expensive, weak, tasteless cup of coffee available.  It was alright.

I got back to town.  Picked up the girlfriend, and the retro gear and hit the RVCA Rolling Retro surf contest.  It was a blast to say the least.  It was one of those occasions when there was just too much awesomness going on, that you didn't know where to look.  Let's start with the boards.  There was too much board-porn going on there.  But, it wasn't just eye-candy.  You were allowed to touch, hold, carress and even ride any board on offer.  Your pops would have done his nut in if he'd been there to see the vintage shapes.  On the topic of eye-candy and your pops doing his nut in, this is Cape Town, and we are kinda used to an abundance of belters, but Llandudno on Saturday was something to behold. 

Everyone who missed it, I hope to see you there next year.  It really has to be one of the highlights on the surfing calendar - along with winter, and the day two weeks after the shaper says my board will be ready.  The angels were mostly present and no less gorgeous at the after party.  Maybe they distracted the DJ a bit much, and he forgot the retro part of the day.  I had a good lag watching some die-hard dancers bust out a head-bang to Limp Biskit.  Shame.  Remember those guys?  Or do they count as retro these days?

My only low point was being snubbed for best dressed surfer.  But, I graciously accept defeat the glorious Amy Kins.  Amy: take a bow.

Amy, taking a bow.

And if you're perceptive you will notice that it is a one piece, and it is Llandudno.  It was that warm.  Lekka stuff.

There - wasn't that better than a whinge?

Just a rad pic

One of the pleasures in doing this is searching for images.  I'll key something in, wind up the google machine and see what it spits out.  Then things will go off on a tangent.  I started writing a post about stamp-collecting.  I shit you not.  Then I came across this image.  So i'm going to run it, because, well why the hell not.
That, and a few pints later, bed seems like an awesome place to be.
To the best of my hazy recollection, we haven't had a pic from New Zealand yet, so welcome all you trophy hoisting, mutton chomping orcs.
This is courteousy of Daniele Sartori and is taken at Piha beach.  Not bad either of them.

Curtain call

Curtains.  It's curtains for you.  Let's close the curtain on this.  The Iron curtain. The boerewors curtain.  The lentil curtain.  Curtains seem to draw a definitive line in our language.


Not when we surf.  Behind the curtain is the best place to be.  It may be fleeting.  It may seem to draw out for ever, as time bends the stage and it stretches out infinitely, never calling the act to close.  The dance carries on, hidden to all but those up in the best seats in the house.

Photo: Nathan Smith

But sometimes the best place to witness the performance is to be onstage yourself.

Check the source out - you will spend the next 5 mins of your life better that way.

Summer - not bad at all

After having a proper whinge things have been quite uplifting.  There's almost always been a swell on the horizon and even when there hasn't we've pretty much been continuously wet and entertained.  It's been an epic summer.  The Boland really produced.  Warm water meant that fullsuits were often too much.  And that warm water only really happens when that Bane of the Boland - the South Easter doesn't blow.  So the warm water is also a function of relative windlessness = double bonus.

Moments to cherish:
Finless fish session in tiny gutless, onshore surf.
Finned fish session at epic right bank, light offshore, warm water - badly shot video to prove it.
Overhead session with loose-as-hell fish.  managed to hold a backhand barrel.  very stoked on it.
Back to front take-off on longboard.
Sucky backhand session at local reef with just 2 mates.  For a few hours, it felt like winter.  I even had a bottle of OB's under the car seat for a post-session warm up, but the water and air temperature made it inappropriate.  (Note: bottle still in place for next time.)
Medium-sized shark sighting.
Numerous sessions with dolphins.
Well overhead session at left point with longboards.
Epic tandem session with the lady.
GoPro moments - quite a few of them.

Kak moments:
Losing an H2 fin that's not mine.  what's an H2?  oh, only the most expensive fin in the FCS catalogue
Realising I'd forgotten my girlfriend's birthday in the surf abundance (since forgiven, bless her)
Arriving at the beach an hour too late - repetively.
Paddling out at a sketchy beachbreak and realising it's way, way too big for a fish with a sketchy fin set-up. 

Rad times definitely outweighing to kak ones.  I'm giving this one the thumbs up. 

The garage turned into a rad social hub.  Table tennis, ding repair, late night sessions just talking smack, browsing old surf mags.  We didn't get round to shaping boards - just surfing and partying too much I guess.

Here's a few samples with the GoPro to set the year up.  There's hopefully a lot more of this to come.

unknown surfer, rad/weird perspective

Chris Boustred, taking it in thechops

Portrait of the executioner of Koeel Bay

Jean Bester, and the reason I sponged for so long

To all the waves, sandbanks, rips, reefs, marine life (living), marine life (now eaten), mates, beers, wines, shots, fires, aromas, sunshine, moody clouds, random bikini girls, songs, missions, alarm clock wake-ups and other unprintable stuff that made the summer what it was - a big thanks to all of you.