Hope Springs Eternal

The rumors are true, Spring is Coming. 

It's already started this week, I can tell because the at the beautiful hour between 5-6am, the birds are singing to a new tune.

Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.

CS Lewis. The Lion the witch and the wardrobe.

KC

This is one talented amazing strongly anchored warrior, a woman I look up to, and immensely value her wisdom, guidance, prayers and above all, her friendship and deep deep love. She has built her home on a solid rock, and constantly looks upward to the Infinite for mercy and grace and unending love as her source of strength and endurance. Kim has a new album out soon. Dawn Rider. Launching 7th October at Lizottes.

Surreal times

On a cold wet day in Oct 2002, my friends and I caught a bus from Donostia San Sebastian in the Basque region of Spain, and found ourselves hopping off in Mundaka, bang in the middle of the Billabong Pro. We had no idea it was on because we'd been trekking across europe for the prior 2 months. First time I ever watched a world pro event live. This page from my pre digital photo album, is the only evidence I have of that day, apart from a brochure and an ol tshirt i gave my bro. (Do you still have that by the way?) While Andy Irons went on to win this, I went on to a frenzied internet cafe to discover that 88 Australians had just been killed in Bali...and then I got an email from my boss, and then it all became a little more real to me. It was a surreal time.

I guess I think of this time because of all these thoughts swimming around my head...streaming live the current Billabong Pro on my mac in my living room, memories of Teachupoo's 'favourite son', the impending nine year anniversary of the Bali tragedy, and my own memories of the Basque. Today there are more dead bodies in Tripoli than they can cope with, NYC is preparing for hurricane Irene, more people are starving than ever before in the horn of Africa. It's still a surreal time we're living in.

East trade wind

East trades and sth swell meant the first big day after a few lay days in Teahupo'o. So strangely enough I found myself live streaming for a while this morning....The end of the road must truly be one of the most beautiful places in the world. Whilst Im not yet a fan of being in waves much over my waist, I would love to be as far out as that channel looking back at those mountains.  I'd love to hear the sound tonight as they sleep at the base of that mountain by the beach. Id love to see the green and the grey and the blue for real. Tomorrow's predicting it will be at it's peak....Im actually looking forward to watching some more.

Here's a little silhouette of the pacific ocean from a distant west coast where I watched my first live tow in, donkeys ago....

Queens

TG, alaia ride at Queens.

Point to Home

Ahh yes, back to those old archive pic's, DB, features again.

city to surf blood

I literally JUST crossed the finish line in my first ever city to surf run, when the guy behinds me trips, and takes me out with him. Bastard never even said sorry.

I have this postcard in my room called 5 minutes before and after life changing events. And I think of it now. Yep last nite I painted my fingernails blood orange (which I never do) to match my hot pink nikes, and new roxy skins in preparation for todays 5:45 am alarm, only to find that much later in one moment Im running the last 10 metres of the 14 kilometres, through the finish line with my Mammo Marchers Team of Three, totally pumped, totally inspired, totally looking forward to the reward of beer and food, full of race camaraderie, team bonding, full of yeew and stoke, smiling to the paparazzi of lenses shooting the finish (so you can buy the picture later), and boom Im on the ground stuck under this 6 ft man and his backpack, people are hovering all over peeling him off me and then next thing I know is that 3 ambos are strapping me in and wheeling me away. 

Oh ssshit I must have fractured my patella, yep I think Ive fractured my patella, sssht cant even stand up let alone weight bare, oh no Im gonna end up in xray at RPA or St Vincent's, nooo dont take me to hospital I was thinking, I've just earnt my beer, I just wanted my beer, just one! Can you drink beer in a hospital, waiting for an xray? Did I get a medal, didn't get my medal, I hadn't even been given my race medal yet. I just completed fourteen kilometres, and I hadnt even taken three steps over the finish line and now Im being wheeled away. Where is my team, oh my poor team, they're here, but they just wanted their beer too.

Turns out I just ripped a lot of skin off my knee (even under my new roxy skins) think carpet burn on asphalt. So sometime later we discharged myself from the first aid tent with fresh supplies of saline and ice, after all I was in the company of a very good radiographer who has dressed worse off patients (or to the contrary, dressings have often been to other injuries to self in the past 12months, ie staph infected spiderbite, deeply sliced fingers requiring suturing on two, aheymmn separate occasions, yes Im always the clumsy one). oh and the ambos turned out to be St Johns First Aid volleys, and we figured we could do a better job. Team bonding again.

Limped off with said team to fight 85'000 others to get ourselves a corona and sausage sandwich (aka hungry jacks burger), medal hanging proudly around my neck. I heart Bondi.

Yes I did take a picture, sick I know, but it is not here because I swear it does not do it justice, as it still feeeeels like my knee cap is no longer attached to my body.

Blue hue interlude

Enjoying, dreaming, drooling and being inspired by Liz Clark's adventures on her Swell voyage. 
This is her pic, of the blue hue that she'll never forget, and it reminds me how I said I'd never forget the difference in the blue of the Mediterranean Sea, to that of the Pacific Ocean. A Brett Whitely kind of blue. How there can be so many shades of navy and equally so many shades of aqua. To contemplate a hue, shade, tone....no choice but to look upward towards a creator more mightier than I.

Really looking forward to some thursday arvo sail sessions again, soon as the twilight starts to kick in.

Oh on another note, a couple of days ago, my letter box was the very happy grateful recipient of a postcard from a different shade of blue in the Canary Islands. Yes, real mail, handwritten, no FB, blog post or email, and Im still smiling. Its one 'for the poolroom' as they say, or for in my humble (no poolroom) home, centrefold front fridge space.

Two

Marcus Watson and Dave Berlach sharing a ride.

Jump start

Tim Godden, jump starting.

Dig deep

Dave Berlach, dances a little.

Dig deep and you might find some lost treasures. As i did when digging thru the archives today, found a few shots of a fun arvo session a few years back one winter plomer....more to come.

To be Twelve

'The golden age of surfing is when you're twelve years old and the days last for fifty hours and every day the surf is glassy and huge and nobody else is out and you catch a hundred perfect rides in a session'.
The Life, Malcolm Knox.


I could take a heap of shots to capture this quote, but somehow, i know deep within, you all carry and hold onto something that resembles, that connects, thats holds onto this feeling, you've felt it at some stage in some form of a way, whether you surf or not. Its yours, keep it, guard it, lock it up, set if free, pass it onto your children, whatever you need...to keep it real.

I was twelve years old in 1991. The war in the middle east had started (as i knew it), and I thought that was it, i was soooo frightened that that was it. Scared out of my wits. But until then all I had known was of back yard national park secret tracks, bush turkey friends, sleeping out caves and the jabawokis that our fathers taunted us with to make us sleep. To be twelve years old again... what would i change, what would you...

Magic Mushrooms

As if by magic, this box of goodness transformed itself into Turkish Gozlemes, market food for the soul, for this years Winter Festival, made with (much) love, by some beautiful friends, Im lucky and grateful to have.

With Grace

Tullia Price, walks and talks and surfs with grace, eloquence, and prowess.