Jump into nothing
Nic Reeves – ‘Bloody good award’
It’s never crowded out back when its double overhead like it was earlier in the day when the few surfers left were pausing and thinking what the consequences might be if their wave selection wasn’t the best.
I continued watching as the setting sun filtered through the incoming storm front and the remnants of the warm afternoon collided with the cold air of the evening coming off the Alps. It was now well over double overhead and anyone a kilometer away could see foam exploding up the headland. Sensing a photo opportunity, I headed down towards the Esplanade, it was Saturday and the day’s masses had cleared the shores seeking fast food and beers with the boys.
The beach was quiet but for the waves.
I was just waiting for a set to come through so I could get some photos when I noticed two surfers wander past me heading out towards the point. Being a surfer I find I’m always, even on stormy days, searching the sea for possible ways out the back. Not seeing any way out the back myself I was intrigued, so I kept watching trying to see where the hell these guys thought they were going to paddle out. I was almost expecting them to walk back past anytime as I couldn’t see any channel or possibility of duck diving the wall of white wash that was storming through. A few minutes later I was dumbfounded when further around the point I made out two surfboards traversing down the sheer cliff face.
Watching the sets explode off the headland and scrub the cliff face next to them I wondered what the fcuk they were doing. After a long pause one of them made the leap off the cliff to the sea below, a minutes hesitation and the other did the same. Quickly they were on their boards and scratching for the horizon.
I watched as the boys duck dived the first wave, I found myself holding my breath with them waiting for them to reappear. Marvelling as I well know this far south, the east coast seems to pack a west coast punch; the colder water wields a strong clout in the dirty south.
In seemingly too shorter a time the boys were lining up an imperfect left hand peak, just as the south westerly crept over the top of the hills and on to the face of the waves. Had it been a point break and they were on guns not standard surfboards it would have been less impressive, but watching them try to pick a swell and scramble down the face against the wind and chop was awe inspiring.
As surfers we down play everything, overhead waves become three foot, but watching these young guys scratch into these waves reminded me of why I surf and challenge myself every time I paddle out. It’s the search of that still, mindless moment by putting myself over the edge. Peace is something we all search for and something we surfers’ frequently find, and are willing to pay the price for.
So maybe you are thinking “oh those waves aren’t so big, not like Papotawai or Waimea”. But consider that life is richer without comparison… something we all get to learn in the flat summer months.
This tale is celebrating the willingness to make the drop. Remembering the many anti-instinctive facets of our sport and the detached state of mind we develop that enables us to paddle out on huge or freezing cold days. For me, the stoke we receive is a meditative state delivered to us as a reward for refusing to listen to our mind to exist in the moment. This for me also delivers my stoke and that quiet ‘zoned in’ feeling after a good surf. Many times I feel I don’t surf, I just decide to GO, after that it happens for me that the turns and positioning on the wave all automatic.
For that I owe the wave a big sense of gratitude...
And a big thanks to those two guys for helping remind me of why I love the ocean so much!!
Nick Reeves
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