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It’s easy to get jaded with surfing, with life, with anything. The constant pile-on pressure of the modern world doesn’t give you a second to breathe. No time to really smell that expensive coffee you’re too busy Instagramming.
Our sanctuary is the ocean. Our happy place. Hell, it IS The Good Place.
Being in the brine is the closest a lot of us get to spirituality. A communion with nature that washes off the stresses of the day. Our beatific worship in Neptune’s salty dominion.
Unless it’s busy.
At which point you daydream unpleasant thoughts. Stare daggers at greedy SUP riders. Mentally flip off the ‘oh, sorry I seem to keep catching all these waves just that bit further out than you’ longboarders. Making do with just plain loathing for other shortboarders. As for the folks who you aren’t sure are retro fashionistas who ‘are all about the glide’, or just beginners on kook barges, them you just dodge.
Much as the surf industry is contracting, like all retail, it doesn’t seem to be making a dent in numbers in the water. That graph is only going one way. Indeed it seems that all 1,600 people watching the WSL live webcasts on FB seem to be out most days. At your local there’s not a lot you can do but surf early or late. At this time of year you can dawny the shit out of it. Being in the water at 5am is no bother. Well. Apart from the whole dragging your sorry sleepy-assed carcass out of bed scenario, but it’s always worth it. A duck dive is the best wake up call in the world. Instant zing on those synapses. Suddenly you’re back in the room.