8.00am: Wake up cold, with the fan blowing hard through the mozzie net. The sound of the surf crashing against the shore, the fan rattling, the yowling and screeching and squeaking of the dogs and crows and chipmunks. Feel the night’s bites start to itch.
8.30am: The long walk to the point. Barefoot, either following the high line of the beach with its trash and spiky hazards or the inside line, shorter, firmer sand but always dodging the rushing foam.
8.45am: Reach the lagoon, almost at the point, where the fishermen need help landing their jellyfish-loaded boats. Help fishermen drag their boats out of the water OR ignore the fishermen because the novelty has worn off and you’re feeling grouchy.
8.55am: Arrive at the hut on the point. Order a coffee, white, no sugar, having learned that no sugar = sweet, with sugar = unbearably sweet. Put on your rashie and reef boots and head to the paddle out spot, hoping this will be your day.
9.05am: Wait for the set to finish and paddle out, quickly. Before you know it, you’re in the lineup. Let the current drift you past the lineup (where the good surfers are) to the outside (where scum like you belong).
9.10-10.30am: Watch what everyone else is doing. When they paddle away from the shore, so do you, to avoid getting caught inside when the cleanup set arrives. Try to work out a spot to catch a wave from, and maintain your position there. Try to sit on your board in a casually cool and relaxed way. Fail. Settle for trying not to look like you’re riding a mechanical bull. Nod in a casually cool way to the good surfers who are doing multiple laps around you, nod in a friendly ‘me too’ way to the other kooks floating around cluelessly. Start to glare at the Israeli guy on your inside who has taken the past 5 waves you had any chance of catching.
10.31am: A wave comes, you’re in the perfect spot. PADDLE! PADDLE! The wave passes under you. Turn around to see a bigger wave about to crush you. PADDLE! DIVE! Roll around underwater for a few minutes wondering where the surface is and if you’re gonna be dragged across the reef and if you’re gonna die and reflecting that no, you’ll probably be ok (or will I?). Reach the surface gasping for air and pulling your leg rope to retrieve your board and hope you’re not too close to the reef and taking a deep breath because here comes the next wave and DIVE! Roll around some more and return to the surface gasping like an asthmatic marathon runner and start paddling out of the impact zone as fast as your oxygen starved arms will carry you. Keep paddling until you are at least 10 metres further out back than anyone else and wait for your heart to slip back down your throat.
10.45am Cautiously, make your way back to the lineup. A wave comes, you’re in the perfect spot. PADDLE! PADDLE! Just as the peak reaches you, realize that Israeli guy just snaked you and is now shouting at you to get off his wave, meanwhile a Sri Lankan kid is dropping in on both of you, so you back off the wave.
10.55am A wave comes, you’re in the perfect spot. PADDLE! PADDLE! The wave breaks just behind you but you don’t realize because you are rubbish. Wave picks you up and takes you over the falls, meanwhile the leg rope has got tangled around your leg and is now trying to amputate you at the ankle. Reach the surface gasping for air and… here comes the next wave.
Repeat for another few hours a day, every day, for 3 weeks.
