Approaching the crest of the dune with palpable expectation, I glimpsed the height of the swell, curling around the horizon. My thoughts became muted as I whisked down the path with my board clanging against my side. Strapping in, I was soon drifting down the beach inches at a time, my feet dangling numb to the hypothermic waters. As the sun was just a few hours from setting into the waving seagrass, thoughts became gradually amplified as a feared local was anticipated to arrive; the illuminating glimpses of stray rocks beneath the lulling surface assured me there was nothing lurking beneath.
I had commenced with my usual, self-taught execution of faceplants into the wave’s breaking face when I heard the scattered remains of a shout amid the seaweed saturated seaspray.
Startled by his bold exclamation, I eagerly inquired “Excuse me?” to the sun-wrinkled longboarder afloat behind me.
“Come further up on the board and the waves will catch themselves.” He hollered.
Recognition slid into place. This was the man who had been out on this break a few tides ago, offering my uncle borrowed time on his board without any selfishness. Flitting back to reality and refocusing on the present, he revealed that he occasionally surfed with the mellow manager of the surf shop I had worked at that summer. Our …show more content…
The surf community is something unscientific, blissfully randomized, and wonderfully connected from the inside out. It is composed of people who abide in mutual trust, smiling as you were awaiting a set, and screaming, “Paddle!” as if they were surging for the wave. The diversity of personalities surfing the same breaks was proof that boundaries are shattered one you transcended the whitewater. Supporting complete strangers who shared a passion was beautiful, and it has given me the courage to be generous with anything. Everyone deserves to be trusted with something as material as a board and as priceless as words promising
I had commenced with my usual, self-taught execution of faceplants into the wave’s breaking face when I heard the scattered remains of a shout amid the seaweed saturated seaspray.
Startled by his bold exclamation, I eagerly inquired “Excuse me?” to the sun-wrinkled longboarder afloat behind me.
“Come further up on the board and the waves will catch themselves.” He hollered.
Recognition slid into place. This was the man who had been out on this break a few tides ago, offering my uncle borrowed time on his board without any selfishness. Flitting back to reality and refocusing on the present, he revealed that he occasionally surfed with the mellow manager of the surf shop I had worked at that summer. Our …show more content…
The surf community is something unscientific, blissfully randomized, and wonderfully connected from the inside out. It is composed of people who abide in mutual trust, smiling as you were awaiting a set, and screaming, “Paddle!” as if they were surging for the wave. The diversity of personalities surfing the same breaks was proof that boundaries are shattered one you transcended the whitewater. Supporting complete strangers who shared a passion was beautiful, and it has given me the courage to be generous with anything. Everyone deserves to be trusted with something as material as a board and as priceless as words promising