| Synchronicity Seven // Session 02 November 2009 By: Stuart Murray Location: Sydney This day started like any other Saturday, I'm up early to check the surf. The surf looks pretty good actually. A north swell, around five foot, was thumping on the outer banks. Too big and heavy out the back for the surf class I am about to coach but some nice re-forms on the inside channels with a high tide that will push their buttons and give them jelly arms. Another perfect surf lesson I thought to myself. The class turned out as I had hoped and the sun warms us as we sit and enjoy a post surf coffee. In the afterglow of exercise we share the day's tall stories. The sky is a clear blue and we agree not to waste this perfect day. We strike a deal to meet later at a remote point break, not too far away. This place has a series of sand banks strung out over hundreds of metres tucked away inside a harbour that break occasionally in bigger swells. It seems like a good plan. Some join me for a post coffee stroll. We wander over to the nearby headland to check the surf. As I sit, my muscles continue the process of letting go of residues left over from the exertion of the morning and I admire the perfect growing swell that was wrapping and unloading along the point. My gaze also wanders to the distant peak in the middle of the bay. A very rare wave, it breaks on sand dropped there from a dredging program in the local harbour. Those tons of sand in the middle of the bay have a peak of perfect shape with accommodating deep channels on either side to escape into, if you make it. One day it will just disappear, be washed away into the depth of the bay. I watch the swell lazily rise and fall on the peak. It does not dare topple for fear of awakening the sleeping monster. The sun creates a layer of diamonds on the surface of the ocean. I wonder whether the dropping tide and rising swell will awaken the big girl. This day is too good to waste sitting around, I can hear a higher calling. Hey, I could go out from the beach, get a wave or two and then paddle the five or six kilometres around to the long point break. What a great day for a bit of adventure. I race off to grab my gear and paddle slowly out into the beautiful blue bay, my body feels relaxed and unwound. I take in the natural beauty surrounding me and at the same time my mind sharpens for the challenge to come. I hang near the prone surfers and jump on a wave that comes straight to me but with one eye on the outer bank I immediately relinquish my position and make out into the bay. I watch the rise and fall of the swell move like peaceful breathing over the sandbank. As I get to the peak a bigger set rolls in. I paddle over the first wave and see that a much larger wave is rearing up and silently asks me a question. That timeless question, "Are you ready?". I answer back by swinging around and paddling hard and deep. Out of nowhere I get this feeling that everything is in order and all I have to do is play my role in this show. I know that I am in the perfect place to catch this wave. It's time to deliver. I begin the slide down this sparkling mountain of water. Time warps and slows as my focus narrows to just making the drop. A third of the way down everything is going sweetly until I over-balance and begin to lean precariously over onto my heels. In desperation I throw my paddle out behind me to lean on and hopefully catch my balance. Time is elastic and it's funny what we think in times like this. A series of thoughts begin to flash through my mind. "Here I go, it's a sunny day, hundreds of people are on the beach and I paddle out here on my own, fall off on the perfect wave and then I paddle back out and it goes dead flat and I have to paddle off with my tail between my legs". I tell myself, "I have got to find a way to make this". My choices are to try and muscle it or let go and try to flow with it. I am leaning way back by this stage and I let go choosing not to resist the multiple forces surrounding me. I waited and waited, as I slid down that wave, for an opportunity to regain an upright position. An opportunity appears and I push myself back up. Letting go had given me more control. I ride the wave to the end and kick off into the channel with the feeling that something special has just happened. I remember feeling very clear and still. It was not the height of the wave, it was the alignment of myself to the essence of the wave's energy.  I feel the peak and I have completed our deal so I head off for the distant headland in the national park. I pass a sucky rock ledge on the way and there's only two guys out. Surfing at the ledge is not something I take too lightly. It's a fierce and unforgiving adversary. I paddle over to it telling myself, "Just stay for a little while and if it doesn't feel good move on. No pressure". When I get there the two guys grin towards me and ask me if I'm going to get one. These boys are from the tow in crew and are kind of amused to see me out there on a SUP. I haven't got much time to answer as a wide one comes through and I paddle for it and miss it but I get a look down the face and decide it doesn't look too bad. I float back out and the water begins shifting around on the reef beneath me like it does before a bigger set rolls in. There it is. It's another wide one and the boys, who know I have set myself up for this one, hoot me in. I turn and go, it's now or never. I drop in nicely on the shoulder, the wave has a big open face and long ride. There is something special about surfing the ledge, you know you're alive. I am still peaking on adrenaline when I arrive back to the take off zone. The boys, still grinning, ask me if I am going to get another one. They laugh when I tell them, "My knees are still knocking from the last one, I'm off to the next peak". They laugh freely and wave me goodbye. The next stop is a two kilometre paddle across the bay. It's a tricky wave that I have wired after much trial and error. It's nice to chill out though after the ledge and I am happy to grab a couple and wind down. I move around into the harbour, curious as to what other adventures await me. In the next bay a couple of yachts shelter from the swell and I catch a couple of half foot novelty waves breaking over a shallow reef. Past the next rocky outcrop is a little beach break with some kids body boarding on the shore and they call to me, "Can we have a go on your board?". I make a deal as long as they stay away from the dumpers. There I am coaching again and I spend ten minutes with them while they have their first go. As I move off, a fisherman calls out to me from the rocks, "Can you get my thong?". I help out. I don't want rubbish in the ocean. I find his footwear close to the edge of the rocks that are heaving with swell. I pick it up and Frisbee it back, it curls nicely and lands in the delighted fisherman's awaiting hands. I expected nothing less, I'm on top of the world, nothing can go wrong. I paddle on and as I come towards the wharf my eyes nearly pop out of my head in surprise. Under the wharf, behind the father and son fishing is a small perfect right wrapping tightly down a rocky groin. I can't believe my luck, a hidden gem. Maybe it's never been surfed before. I can't resist the temptation. It looks pretty shallow so I grab a bigger one and get an exciting ride down the rocks and kick off. Here though, is where greed gets the better of me as the next one I pick up is wrapping closer to the rocks and I get locked into a wave getting shallower and shallower over a series of dirty looking barnacle clad rocks. It's getting very shallow and I fear that my fin will hit the bottom and I'll get catapulted face first into the awaiting razor sharp teeth of those barnacles. Again my mind slows down and I put my weight forward on the nose of my board in an effort to lift the fin up and avoid disaster. So is this how it goes, I survive the outer peak and the ledge and end up face planting into some ugly rocks on a one foot wave? My fin hits and then releases and I kick off into deeper water. Feeling a little silly and very relieved I paddle over to the nearby beach to check my fin. A gentleman approaches me as I come in curious about what I am doing and I begin the chat about stand up paddling that I have undertaken many times before. My fin box is stressed out, a bit like me, but it's not terminal. It's time to go home. I streak across the harbour with the sunset. The ocean has told me enough is enough and I'm listening. In fading light I pull into the bay and head back to the same beach that I started from, seven different breaks and four and half hours earlier. I walk myself back home in the dark reflecting on the synchronicity of day with a contented feeling deep inside. | |
