We see more whales than kneelo's in this part of Brinetopia, so I was stoked to shoot this unknown gent having a whale of a time on a few wind chopped walls not so long ago. This post is for another kneelo - my brine brother Barry D, an African ex-pat living on the Gold Coast who has been crook for a while.
I can sympathise with Barry as I haven't been feeling too well myself lately. Times like this, one gets to stop and reflect just how wonderful life as a surfer is - memorable waves, a quiver to choose from, solid friends to share the stoke (and mock), views from the shoulder and the channel that the average punter will never experience, eclectic music to lift the spirits, travels to new and favourite swirlings of brine. Here's to us all getting better and wetter.
If Frank's kombi could only talk...maybe it would recount fables from the road like this one from goofyfooter Mark, who sent me this email recently (edited slightly to achieve G rating!):
"Terrible conditions Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday morning, didn't even get wet. Knocked off work early Wednesday and decided to make one last check before heading home. Surprised to find a 3 foot left, clean, off-shore, super consistent, no-one out, not a soul. Mad dash to the car. Freezing cold, paddled out and got a fantastic left straight away - looked in to shore in anticipation of the hills having eyes, but no-one suiting up. Paddled out again, another ripper left, again looked around, still no-one. What the *&%$ is going on? Did I miss a shark alert? Have I finally fallen through the reality crack? Am I actually still curled up under my desk at work?
Two hours of solitary lefts, the only company being a learner for about 20 minutes. A couple of absolute bombs. I kept taking a wave as soon as I paddled back out, thinking I better make the most of it before the crowd arrives - but no-one came. I'm putting it in my top 3 left surfs of all time, maybe even the top?"