in sight. The wind picks up, with dark clouds hovering in the distance and a lone fruit bat journeying between the islands every now and then. Consider surfers’ paradise found.
I feel the waves swoop in from behind, buoying my board. I can do this—all I have to do when the wave hits is to stand up, maintain my balance and ride it to the shore. Mind over matter, right? Wrong. The spirit was willing but my body was weak. In the split second of hesitating to stand up on the board, I hurtle forward. Time turns to treacle as Westlife’s ‘Flying Without Wings’ plays in the background. I flip head first into the sea. Saltwater gushes up my nose. I tumble in circles. I got worked, big time. It takes a while for me to gather my bearings, and thankfully, coral cuts don’t mar my face. No guts, no cuts and definitely no glory in this scenario. uneventful day on land, and yet, here I am, paddling for my life.