Posted by: smithdavid | November 3, 2013

No Coincidence

There is just enough time to go for a surf before going to Len. He lives a short distance from MuizenburgBeach and he surfs himself so will understand if I’m late.

It’s very warm outside the car, I watch those surfing out in the distance. There are a couple without wetsuits on and I wonder if this evening, maybe, I should brave the cold Cape Town water. I walk down to where the waves finally run out of steam on the sand and feel that it is luke warm as I wade in.

Back at the car I trade my t-shirt for a rash vest and then take the 8’2″ down to the water’s edge. I put the leash on, it feels different not having the neoprene of the suit between the strap and my leg, more intimate.

When I wade in and begin paddling I feel lighter and less restricted. I think back to my attempt to surf without a suit in Gonubie just over a week ago. I remember how cold my arms and legs got. It’s different now, the water is cool now that I’ve been in for a while but I’m by no means cold.

muizenburg from boyes drive…

I’m at that point, about halfway out back, where the waves reform. Though it’s my resolution this holiday to always go all the way out, it seems that today the quality of the wave out there will not be that much better than it is here and that the extra fifteen minutes of paddling won’t be worth it.

I turn and paddle for the next wave, easily taking it clean, riding along it’s face. Perhaps it just an illusion but there is great sensation of freedom now that I’m not bound by the wetsuit.

The conditions are easy and I take another six or seven waves, making a small drop on all of them.

Now I’m conscious of not being too late and so I take one all the way in.

At the car there is no rigmarole of taking the wetsuit off, the rash vest/t-shirt swap is reversed, I drip dry.

We sit on the porch at Len’s, drinking beer. Two of the fingers of his right hand are bandaged together – someone dropped in on him a few weeks ago and in trying to stop his board from clattering into them, he smashed his finger between his board and theirs’. He’s had a few things not go his way recently but he just shrugs his shoulders. ‘Life is good…’

sunset over muizenburg

sunset over muizenburg

Later we’re in Cape to Cuba, mulling over a few whiskeys, reminiscing over the teenage cruelty of L____ C (man, that girl would’ve destroyed you, anyway!), our garage band (we had the spirit, if not the talent – The Clash did it, why shouldn’t we?) and how all his subsequent time as a musician never once got him a girl. Ever.

We speculate about how we both came to writing. And surfing. We figure that though it’s peculiar (he living in Cape Town and me in Dublin and later London),  perhaps it’s no coincidence that now we both surf.

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