Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Catching Waves

In the trough, the water is only waist deep. At the top of the swells, it is well over his head. If the wave isn’t breaking, he bobs like a cork, over the top, rising high enough to scan the horizon. If the swell is beginning to break, he dives for safety underneath the water. He’ll feel the turbulence of the wave’s crash on his feet, a signal that it’s safe to come back up. When his head breaks the surface, he instinctually tosses it back as if to free his eyes of hair. He picked up the trait years ago and the habit continues even though his hair hasn’t been long enough to be in his eyes in years.

He continually scouts the horizon for a promising swell, patiently standing right angle to the shore.

When the ideal wave finally approaches, he couches down in the trough for a split second. Then he pushes off hard right before the swell reaches his body. Throwing himself ahead of the wave, he makes a couple strong overhead strokes then stretches his body out, arms far in front of the wave. Effortlessly, it seems, he glides across the face and continues even after the break, riding the foam nearly to the shore. Getting up on knees scrapped by shells, he tosses back his non-existent hair, wipes his face, licks the salt off his lips and sets out for another five-second thrill.


  1. hello..u really write well...the style is unique..where are you btw?

  2. Wanted to say thanks for stopping by. I have enjoyed sharing the ride today and didnt even get sunburned. You write very vividly.