Mind over Matter

south pacific blue


In the narrow window between morning and afternoon, the man rubbed his burning eyes with both hands. The skin would be burning again tonight and sleep would not be easy. Not only the skin but also the shoulders, especially the left, right under the blade.
He hadn't been in the salt water longer than two hours for almost a month.

It was an early morning rise and dance with the waves that had rendered him useless. It was still dark at 5am when he pushed off on the skateboard loaded up with a 7'6 single fin, wetsuit and towel from an already crowded Californian car park.
Old and young were filing down the long path as he whooshed past, trusting in his balance and praying earnestly. His fearless leader, Harris, had said it would be fast but he hadn't expected this.
Before long the two were talking story whist walking under the rail tracks and through onto thick sand.

"They saw a 10 foot shark here yesterday"
"no kidding"
"yeh, there are plenty of sightings here, nothing to worry about though."
"guess not eh", the man replied bravely.

In a clearing they suited up and could begin to see faint outlines of surfers turning, correcting and zipping along the clean lunges of water.

"It looks real good"
"yeh it's been firing the last four days, didn't think it'd still be on", mumbled Harris.

The man stumbled around in the dark whilst Harris threw up a heartfelt prayer and ran off into the boulder strewn surf. The rolling of the rocks in the shorebreak was like a well rehearsed mantra, it caught the mans attention and he stopped just shy of the water to think on the sound.
In all his travels he had wandered 'how did i arrive here?' Just as the old familiar phrase came to him he decided to sit and stretch a while;

"I still haven't moved that van" he pondered.
"It got me here, i suppose, and now i'm on the beach at five thirty in the morning, looking at perfect lefts and rights. Whaddya know, here comes some light...did he say 10 foot..."

In the lineup men clambered over eachother for the best waves. For the most part there was cautious respect between the surfers. It is a common thing among idle men to talk of useless things.
The talk here, between waves, was of Jack's party the other night or "you got that new boat out for a run bro?", "Dude! you shoulda seen us fly"...and the like.
Then a set of waves come and all is washed away by the potential rush of riding water.

Five pelicans hover in perfect formation just feet above the wave, meanwhile a floundering body of humans fight over the one peaking wave. The man has taken a few sneaky rides and feels thankful to have even witnessed this crazy event. He uses 'mind over matter' to drag his beaten shoulders and arms to shore. Waits another thirty minutes for Harris and then they make the long journey back to the car. The sun now menacingly high.

"I surfed 'The Wedge' the other day, 25 foot"
"you're a nutbag" said the exasperated man
"it's only good to surf when it's that big"
"yeh right..."
"well, i did have to get rescued but got some good photos.."
"i bet"...water and food was all the man could fit into his thoughts.

Fatigued and sore the man found his way to the living room floor.
He thought about his age and how it really is no excuse. He questioned why he felt guilty to sleep at midday on a thursday. Thoughts quickly turned to dreams and across from the tracks he heard the hound moan, willing him, urging him on.