Part 2- Into the groove


Day 3- Settling in

Surf- An endless sleep and lie-in, leisurely breakfast and still early for the 10am muster. More good lessons- keep heading forward for speed once up, up quickly, don’t drag feet when paddling, practise nailing the cross in the board centre.

The surf’s still washed out- giant 20 sec period 5ft waves, low but brutal and no place for anything without gills. In with the foam again, but a few passible re-forms and plenty of practise nailing that cross. Surfing through most of lunch I felt my feet coming back. Phil’s greatest tip for me? Everything’s perfect, but where’s the style? Perfect? In that case roll on the fun again- obviously while I was concentrating on the lessons too much I became a robot. With confidence re-gained it was a fun afternoon in the sun and the froth, glued to the board, doing whatever I willed.

Spirit- An exhausted lie down preceded a long, sweaty and shaky yoga app session- torturous but wonderful, feeling better by the day.

An improved dinner and smoothie at the bar for wifi. Still struggling with EZ ISA questions- how much of myself to roll in? Should I blog personally for the interest/honesty factor? I’ve got nothing to lose and it would be ‘anything I wanted’? Doubt I have the guts though- what would Seth do? Maybe setup blog and feed over- seems to make sense.

Wifi yielded nothing but dullness. Good to be able to handle happily while away, but wander as to the sense of it all. Do real heroes really keep their suits on??

Day 4- Making progress

Surf- Some froth, 2ft reforms and crazy-heavy 5ft break were on the menu again. Claudio, a cheerful salty Brazilian instructor took our group with real authority- and he liked my surfing. Everything perfect, more practise (and a few tips) for turning back-side, but I was there now and needed to get out back to move on. A tall order, and one he didn’t give, but I was game for the challenge- roll after fucking roll of low and thick, thick heavy broken water- always dragging 8ft of foam with me. Most of the attempts ended in bailing, but a couple of breakthroughs (persistence, timing or both?) got me amongst the fat ugly monsters- enough for a kick and quick ride but not worth the effort. Eventually got on a 7’2” for a bit- nice to feel something that will respond under my feet- but too short for the break.

For today’s post-surf ‘rest’? More surf. I unpacked my trusty 200mph 7’2” gun and headed off the town reef alone to see what could be done. An hour later I had found bliss and absolution, alone- battling the chops and rolls, sucks and crashes off the rocks- ducking them, forcing the sinking board and drooping arms out to safety, and then back into madness. Three fell eventually, far fewer than got me- each larger than the last and the final one twisting me from ‘shit’ to ‘fuck it’ in a flash and on to sheer joy as it was tamed- fast and clean before its bomb went off. I submitted to the pull, by its conclusion I was cleansed- risk taken, battle joined and survived.

Not drinking with others is dull- a quiet wait in a bar and a ghost at the barbeque. I’m not even tempted. It doesn’t help that most are speaking Spanish, or poor English if I trouble them. A good time to be quiet then- and I’m feeling good for it, but not social.

How much time have I spent drunk or hungover? Have I been myself? Have I been cheating myself weak? I’m becoming more sensitive to things around me again- a fair trade. I’m certainly feeling sensitive about Kadiva- she is beautiful, free, smiley and tactile. When I grow up I want a girl who scares and thrills like a monster wave.

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