'Hard Core is doing it alone when no-one knows, with no jet ski, no life-jacket ... and then not talking about it afterwards'. Miki Dora
I think the above quote is very cool, but as I am not Miki Dora I feel I have a little licence to share a wee story from this morning. While having had a sleepover at work last night, I fielded a txt from my friend Marky, (thanks bud!) telling me that there was still surf - 2ft to chest high, so I headed out to Snaps to check it. Rising SW with four people out and head high sets, so I thought ... ummmmm ... no, because I know what the SW does to good surf and drove away. I headed to a rivermouth - no, not That rivermouth - and for the first time in nearly thirty years of surfing this place, the tide was so low that I was able to walk all the way across the river. Got to be a first there ... I came over the dunes and found perfect, peeling, chest high waves winding down the bar with not a soul anywhere to be seen; said a quick prayer for the spirits of the place to look after me and swam out to the bar. I was handboarding and as I swam out, a set of eight waves came through and I looked into the barrel of every one. Not a drop was out of place and even though it wasn't big, it was throwing out as wide as it was high - a two foot swell was hitting the bar out of deep water and jacking to three foot.
I counted them. I had 16 clear barrels (I didnt make it out of all of them) and the best, I counted slowly to three while I was in there behind the curtain and came out - I had to sit in the channel for a moment and regain my composure after that one and watch another perfect set come through, without me on it.
I had this place just like this five years ago and lost count of the barrels I had during that session, but this was so perfect, so extraordinary, so singular that it literally, took my breath away.
After an hour and a half, the tide crept in and the wave moved off the bank, so I swam in. I had no board with me, so I knew I had a long swim back with the big, in-coming tide and reluctantly recalling the story of a local friend, who came face-to-face with a bronze whaler here last year, I thought, I can still do this ... 'Here be Dragons' ... the morning was still serene, fish jumping around me as I swam, the sky had never been so blue, the river current helping me and flocks of oyster catcher and plovers calling to me as I swam past ... and the Dragons stayed away.
Words and Dragons By Mike Baker