We bought our surf boards at Costco, which means we are either going to be the biggest dorks past the breakers, or the coolest middle aged surfers on the Spit. I’m not worried; I don’t think the pelicans will be judging us. Keeping in line with the “we don’t surf” stance on buying equipment, we bought our wetsuits off Amazon. I was sure they were going to be an epic fail, either too short, or wouldn’t keep us warm. Surely you can’t just “click and buy” the perfect wetsuit? Turns out you can.
On our first day, we paddle out past the curling carnivals of crashing waves. Bobbing up and down with the swells, you feel as though you have nothing but time. Time to breath in the mountains being kissed by mist, the blueness of infinity, and the conversations of the seagulls. Being pushed towards the land, the swells turn to crests, crests turn to curls, and it’s time to test the veracity of a board bought from a big box store.
The key is to “pop up.” My “pop” is more of a lumbering climb to semi-vertical. Nothing cool about it. But as soon as I realize that my boyfriend and I are surfing the same wave, all of that goes away. While surfing, there’s no wanting or striving for anything to be any different from the current moment in time. It’s fulfillment. It’s the most Zen thing I’ve ever experienced. Poetry in motion.
The pelicans aren’t judging me, and neither am I, and that, while zooming over Mother Ocean, feels like freedom.