by Anthony Williams

Created on: June 08, 2008

Only a surfer knows the Memory

The pre dawn chill is oppressing, eating into the core of our society. A cold south westerly, driven all the way from the snow fields, far away, chilling us to the bone. A deep low pressure system moving in from the Antarctic propels long lines of perfection into the bay. It's cranking, 6ft and offshore.
The dawn found sun brings no warmth, stinging eyeballs, stretched harder for a view. We sit impatiently gazing into the mist as the sun slowly rises above the horizon. Sounds imitating thunder awaken our dreamy minds. The glimpse of marching lines coming into view sends shivers of excitement down erect spines.

The beach lays empty. Summers footprints now faded into the sand. Even the nagging seagulls have flocked elsewhere, to avoid the chill of dawn.
Winter.
A time for salt hardened surfers. The pack sits alone with nature.
The rhythmic sound of wax circles being drawn across surfboards makes each heart race. The pain of winter will be swept away with each wave ridden today. Agony prevails as the wetsuit dance begins. Warmth comes at a high price. Reward is only for the strong.
Exposed body parts, now start to turn blue. The pain will subside when all feeling is numbed. Toes ache as they strain to feel sand crackling beneath. Then sting with fury as they test the ocean. Each step is torture, chest collapsing, breath heaved as the water level increases. Deeper into the bliss, focusing your mind with all that surrounds. You know you're alive, it's telling you with screaming intensity. The first wave brings an ice cream headache. Disorientation momentarily elapses as the next one washes over, intensifying the effect. Arms struggle under the task. Oxygen is needed but so hard to take. Each breath is an effort brought on by necessity. Fingers strain to keep hold of the board, duck diving becomes a challenge of titanic proportions. Grey shadows, mimic sharks. Focus intensifies with only one direction in mind. Charmaine's warm body lying lonely in her bed has gone. It's now or never, the push towards the horizon continues. Adrenalin, feeding the madness. Each duck dive becomes deeper as the ocean fights to take control.
Relentless.
Frustrating.
Minutes fade into eternity with each moment spent amongst the white wash. The swell is strong. It's power drawn from travelling one thousand nautical miles. Exploding with both ferocity and intent. The fighting continues, holding position, seeking a lull that will come and let tied arms paddle to freedom.

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