Summer
The worst thing about summer is being two hours from the nearest beach. There are rivers and lakes nearby but none are known for their surf. All though my teenage years I’d be nicking down to the coast at any opportunity. Friday after school could be catching the train to Frankston and then hitching a lift to Pt Leo. Wednesday was sports day at school so after getting our names marked off as being at the ice skating rink we would convince a mate’s mum that it was the perfect afternoon for golf at Flinders, especially with a predicted nor-easter blowing blowing gently off-shore and an incoming tide.
When we were old enough to drive the trips become easier and to more varied places. The west coast from Torquay to Johanna became available, or camping at The Prom (not the best surf but a wonderful backdrop). Accommodation was the back of a van or even curling up in the boot of the car.
Now my surf trips are down to about one a year. I’ve grown rusty from a lack of salt water. Fortunately my in-laws have a house a block or two away from a little beach that, when conditions are right, gets a small amount of swell. The beach has a number of rocky reefs, one of which holds a small, mild right-hander that can even, on rare occasions, barrel. The biggest benefit is the short walk and the lack of crowds – seldom has there been more than half a dozen of us out. Mellow would be the best description.
Day one of this year’s summer break and the swell wasn’t too bad. The line-up included myself and one other surfer (breaks further along the coast no doubt had sixty plus). I sat in the water catching the occasional wave while the sun slowly sank turning the ocean and sky silver.
One thing surfing does is make beer taste better. For some reason, fish and chips also taste wonderful after a session in the waves. I think it has something to do with being immersed in salt water for so long. Whatever the reason, after getting dry, and with the sun now disappearing over the horizon, it was time to have a beer and find a chip shop.
A fish and chip shop along the coast in the middle of tourist season should be easy. The first we came to had people sitting outside enjoying their chips amid squawking seagulls. It had just closed. The second wasn’t taking any more orders as they didn’t want to add to the hour plus wait the present shopload of customers were facing. The third was twenty minutes drive away in ‘town’ and would most likely require an hour’s search for a carpark before placing an order. The fourth, just about to close but happy to take our order, was an Indian take away.
The next day was another hot one. The swell had dropped and the tide was receding. My morning surf became a morning snorkel over beds of seagrass and gardens of red and yellow seaweeds. Later, I joined the crowds in choppy waves. The day finished with a cold beer and a family barbecue. I would have preferred chips I reckon. Tomorrow would be a new day and a new year; hopefully one with more surfing in it ... and chips.
When we were old enough to drive the trips become easier and to more varied places. The west coast from Torquay to Johanna became available, or camping at The Prom (not the best surf but a wonderful backdrop). Accommodation was the back of a van or even curling up in the boot of the car.
Now my surf trips are down to about one a year. I’ve grown rusty from a lack of salt water. Fortunately my in-laws have a house a block or two away from a little beach that, when conditions are right, gets a small amount of swell. The beach has a number of rocky reefs, one of which holds a small, mild right-hander that can even, on rare occasions, barrel. The biggest benefit is the short walk and the lack of crowds – seldom has there been more than half a dozen of us out. Mellow would be the best description.
Day one of this year’s summer break and the swell wasn’t too bad. The line-up included myself and one other surfer (breaks further along the coast no doubt had sixty plus). I sat in the water catching the occasional wave while the sun slowly sank turning the ocean and sky silver.
One thing surfing does is make beer taste better. For some reason, fish and chips also taste wonderful after a session in the waves. I think it has something to do with being immersed in salt water for so long. Whatever the reason, after getting dry, and with the sun now disappearing over the horizon, it was time to have a beer and find a chip shop.
A fish and chip shop along the coast in the middle of tourist season should be easy. The first we came to had people sitting outside enjoying their chips amid squawking seagulls. It had just closed. The second wasn’t taking any more orders as they didn’t want to add to the hour plus wait the present shopload of customers were facing. The third was twenty minutes drive away in ‘town’ and would most likely require an hour’s search for a carpark before placing an order. The fourth, just about to close but happy to take our order, was an Indian take away.
The next day was another hot one. The swell had dropped and the tide was receding. My morning surf became a morning snorkel over beds of seagrass and gardens of red and yellow seaweeds. Later, I joined the crowds in choppy waves. The day finished with a cold beer and a family barbecue. I would have preferred chips I reckon. Tomorrow would be a new day and a new year; hopefully one with more surfing in it ... and chips.
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