You were up early well before first light, prepping for a big day! The swell forecast was looking incredible and already you could sense that the wind has switched to an offshore as the bush at the front of home was rubbing on the window. You know from experience that you’re gonna need some fuel in the tank, so you chow down a big breakfast, head to the car with fresh coffee in hand fumbling the keys in the dark. By the time you reach the beach there’s enough light on the horizon that you can see the swell lines. As you climb into your wetsuit, you can see each lump of swell stand up in the wind and drain across the sand bar blowing out spray into the channel. Your mates arrive to join you and you paddle out negotiating the inside shorey and head on out to the far peak. This is one of those rare days that you will be doing some serious paddling and some serious hours in the lineup.
Six hours later you are completely cooked, the swell continues to build maxing out the lineup and the wind swings onshore blowing apart the form of the lineup, leaving only mushy lumps in its wake. You’re stoked, not only did you score big time, but you’re stoked that its blown out as you have nothing left in the tank, all that remains in the day is a big feed and an arvo power nap.
But! You get word that the swell has seriously kicked in, as in beast proportions. And what that means is a rare wave has been woken from its hibernation for the first time in a year. The phone rings red-hot, “you keen bro?” You know you are, but can you muster the energy and the amp? You decide to go and look for yourself, it’s going off its tits!
Accessing this wave is a physically draining journey, almost ironman like. By the time you reach the lineup you’re already running on fumes, but the sight of those waves thundering down the reef releases a rush of endorphins which perk you up. Paddle outs are slow, you sit in the lineup knowing you’ve only go so much left in the tank, but you’ll be patient and wait for only the best waves. Time and time again you tell yourself “Last wave” but you head on back to the takeoff for another, driven by that feeling only a surfer knows. Ya mates head in, so you call time as well and you ride one last wave, which they hoot from the rocks, you begin to paddle in and they are already paddling out, “Bro that last wave was so sick, let’s go get just one more”. Only darkness ends the session, calling time when human emotion and urge for the buzz could not. You never saw this session coming, and at first you didn’t want it, but are now jabbering on about how you can’t wait to surf there again. Now you can sleep!