The sessions in question were about 5 clicks from each other, and a little over 2 days apart. But they could have been half a globe away and at the epitome of each season. I had the same wetsuit and board, but otherwise, everything else was different.
Session one was a dawnie last thursday. I hit a little peak just after sunrise and surfed this merry beachy ace out for about an hour. Not a breath of wind. As the sun got higher, it reached down through the crystal waters and I could see the sand easily beneath me. I kept an eye out for the little sharkies that hang out here. I'm not sure what they are - seven gill cows or gully sharks, but you see them quite frequently at this spot. The lefts were more consistent. Bowly and fun. They also dropped you into this sweet rip which made for a lazy paddle back out. The rights were racier, and more sectiony, with a harder paddle, so I opted for my backhand more often. Ah - the choice of waves. Bliss. After a while, two other guys showed up, followed by a fourth. Still, not as selective, but still plenty to round.
The last guy in, was also the first guy out, but he definitely took session of the day. Riding a flat epoxy fish, he just got in so easy and being goofy foot, just destroyed the lefts. Again and again. Goes to show: the right board for the right person on the right day. One of the other guys was a bit inexperienced. He was riding a standard thruster and making heavy weather of most of the waves. How much better his session would have been had he had some more suited to him and the day.
After about 3 hours I got out. Tired. Stoked. That was Thursday
That evening we stood and watched our braai smoke go straight up, seeing the calm before the storm.
Friday was windy and small. Swell was still coming. That night we got hit hard. And the rain and wind tore at the roof tiles.
Saturday we woke to similar conditions from the day before, bar the occasional driving squall. We were expecting the swell to build. We needed the wind to drop. We drove around, getting wet sand on our shoes, hoping to find things had changed. We drank coffee. We played jenga and put more logs on the fire.
At one point, we stood on a dune watching waves that were almost worth it. "Let's stop wasting time," someone offered.
"No, we're biding time." Another countered.
By about 4 we knew it was going to be as good as it got. We squelched into the wet gravel of the parking lot and suited up in spotty rain. Clearly, we weren't the only cabin wracked with fever. A few mates also came jogging through the dunes.
We got out and surfed the right running off the rip. It was good fun. The occasional bigger one would hold up and run right across the rip. It had a shape to it that allowed you to stay high, but build speed and fly across the sandy wall. It's not often you talk about beachies with walls, but this was it.
It was still just the 6 of us when then squall came through. It sleeted at an unholy angle. We are all hooded up, save one and he had to shelter under his board, leaving his bare knuckles to the mercy of the thrown ice. It was a surreal moment as the wind wipped up the sprint drift around us, leaving only opaque hooded figures, like wraiths in the maelstrom. I tried catching a wave, but with the skin of the wave barely visible, it was nigh impossible.
The squall passed and everyone else in town took their que to do one final check of the beach, and finding it suitable, joined us out there. There was a good crew before too much longer.
The weather continued to change around us, and at one point, the late sun broke through and front lit the waves. The bright spray, the dirty water and the black wall of clouds made for some dramatic lighting. I was really missing my GoPro about then.
The clouds rolled in and somewhere beyond the grey, the sun sank. The darkness grew and we fought our boards in the wind back across the beach. We clothed up and retreated to the warmth of an indoor fire, hot drinks and lively chatter.
All through the dark night though our thoughts betrayed this sheltered and wandered out to the cold sea beyond.
Session one was a dawnie last thursday. I hit a little peak just after sunrise and surfed this merry beachy ace out for about an hour. Not a breath of wind. As the sun got higher, it reached down through the crystal waters and I could see the sand easily beneath me. I kept an eye out for the little sharkies that hang out here. I'm not sure what they are - seven gill cows or gully sharks, but you see them quite frequently at this spot. The lefts were more consistent. Bowly and fun. They also dropped you into this sweet rip which made for a lazy paddle back out. The rights were racier, and more sectiony, with a harder paddle, so I opted for my backhand more often. Ah - the choice of waves. Bliss. After a while, two other guys showed up, followed by a fourth. Still, not as selective, but still plenty to round.
The last guy in, was also the first guy out, but he definitely took session of the day. Riding a flat epoxy fish, he just got in so easy and being goofy foot, just destroyed the lefts. Again and again. Goes to show: the right board for the right person on the right day. One of the other guys was a bit inexperienced. He was riding a standard thruster and making heavy weather of most of the waves. How much better his session would have been had he had some more suited to him and the day.
After about 3 hours I got out. Tired. Stoked. That was Thursday
That evening we stood and watched our braai smoke go straight up, seeing the calm before the storm.
Friday was windy and small. Swell was still coming. That night we got hit hard. And the rain and wind tore at the roof tiles.
Saturday we woke to similar conditions from the day before, bar the occasional driving squall. We were expecting the swell to build. We needed the wind to drop. We drove around, getting wet sand on our shoes, hoping to find things had changed. We drank coffee. We played jenga and put more logs on the fire.
At one point, we stood on a dune watching waves that were almost worth it. "Let's stop wasting time," someone offered.
"No, we're biding time." Another countered.
By about 4 we knew it was going to be as good as it got. We squelched into the wet gravel of the parking lot and suited up in spotty rain. Clearly, we weren't the only cabin wracked with fever. A few mates also came jogging through the dunes.
We got out and surfed the right running off the rip. It was good fun. The occasional bigger one would hold up and run right across the rip. It had a shape to it that allowed you to stay high, but build speed and fly across the sandy wall. It's not often you talk about beachies with walls, but this was it.
It was still just the 6 of us when then squall came through. It sleeted at an unholy angle. We are all hooded up, save one and he had to shelter under his board, leaving his bare knuckles to the mercy of the thrown ice. It was a surreal moment as the wind wipped up the sprint drift around us, leaving only opaque hooded figures, like wraiths in the maelstrom. I tried catching a wave, but with the skin of the wave barely visible, it was nigh impossible.
The squall passed and everyone else in town took their que to do one final check of the beach, and finding it suitable, joined us out there. There was a good crew before too much longer.
The weather continued to change around us, and at one point, the late sun broke through and front lit the waves. The bright spray, the dirty water and the black wall of clouds made for some dramatic lighting. I was really missing my GoPro about then.
The clouds rolled in and somewhere beyond the grey, the sun sank. The darkness grew and we fought our boards in the wind back across the beach. We clothed up and retreated to the warmth of an indoor fire, hot drinks and lively chatter.
All through the dark night though our thoughts betrayed this sheltered and wandered out to the cold sea beyond.
