BurbleChaz

During one's journey through life, new peaks of personal endeavour are forever being climbed. Best times, longest durations, highest peaks - each one is an individual triumph. This weekend, I gained three new personal bests.

Friday was Anzac Day. My sole contribution was to insist a sailor in uniform cut in front of me in the queue for doughnuts. Least I could do, etc. He bought an actual sausage roll on a Manly ferry. I think he intended to eat it. Such courage is admirable.

To South Steyne, then, and into the surf. Sensible People stayed inside the break line and had a blast. I worked a bit harder, and fought my way out to the break. After ten minutes hard finning, it is an absolute joy to lie on the board, feeling the huge waves (well, four feet) sliding under you, and watching them curl and break to the beach.

The wind was offshore and fresh. The trick is to sneak gently shorewards, keeping an eye on the incoming sets. The ideal is to arrive at the intersection of the breaking and clean point on the wave, just as the face is vertical, glassy and smooth. If you have enough forward velocity just at that moment, an astonishing thing happens. You slide sweetly down the face, accelerating from maybe 1.5 knots to 12 in a second or so. The breaking wave roars around you as you plummet down the face. Then, leaning your board gently into the face, you execute a perfect bottom turn and shoot across the clear water, inches from the maelstrom. Carefully trading height for speed, you play gently with the surrounding violence, maximising distance surfed, maybe pulling a trick or two, and ending the ride in the shallows. As the roar of the wave subsides, you become aware of the sound from the crowd, cheering you to shore.

My experience was slightly different. Ten minutes damned hard work paddling to the break. Just catching my breath when I realize that maybe this isn't the break at all. The first big wave of the set catches me at that point of indecision. 'Should I catch it or head out?'. Beam on. Into the spin cycle. Lose contact with board. Pick a plausible direction in the foam, call it 'up' and swim like hell. Two breaths. Next wave, more violence, lots more foam. Pick the other 'up' this time. Surface. Feel bottom with feet. Vicious rip offshore. Never a good sign. Look to seaward. Odearodearodear. Grab board. Turn upright. Head for shore, commit to wave. Whoosh. Zoom. Hurtle. Fortunately, my sheer animal fear made my grip the board hard enough that it carried me to the beach. First Personal Best: Most Litres of Seawater in Sinuses.

The actual stats were: Four hacks to the break, three awesome rides, one epic wipeout. seven litres of ocean consumed.

On Saturday, dangerous conditions were forecast. We took our snorkelling gear as well as the boards. It didn't look too bad. maybe a bit hairy. You judge:

Rubbish.

Clean. Lulling you into a sense of safety.

I surf in this.

So we went snorkelling. The visibility was rubbish. I chased a flathead. We found a very green groper. A poor woman on her first open water dive had a bit of a panic attack. Last open water dive, too, I suspect. Achieved another personal best: Least Plausible Excuse For Not Going Surfing While Carrying a Wetsuit. 'No excuse whatsoever' would be a better description.

Today, the surf was three feet, confused and rubbish. I had a fantastic time, and am growing in skill and confidence. Personal Best: Most Consecutive wipeouts: 4.

And now, a totally unneccesary yellow spinnaker. Note the optimistic oversheeting: 'Of cours we can lay the mark with the kit up. Just squeeze another inch in....'

Oversheeted much?