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picked it up.
Okay, so the DVD is a major issue.  When s a good time
to call?
 Just ring tonight. I m gonna go now. I don t want to talk to
you any more, you re too blue. They talk about Shane in the
surf forums on the net. You should check it out. See ya
Friday.
He paddles across for a wave. When he s on his feet, I
watch him head left. He s turning really well considering
there s not much push to the wave at all, sending spray
flying off the back like a series of retorts. He rides it all the
way in.
I focus on catching waves, trying to ignore the paranoia
Danny s started. I feel like I m the one with the Picasso
face, not Danny. I feel like everybody will see there s
something wrong with me. I m up early on the next right and
I start trimming across the top. Time slows when you re on
a wave, everything becomes that moment. This board is
harder to turn than mine. Without a grip pad I can t gauge
where my back foot is. I shuffle back and the board
responds better. Then I take aim for the lip. It pushes the
front of my board, completing the turn for me. The wave
ledges and I lean back, dropping down, then race along the
reform.
It s only a timeout. As soon as it ends I m feeling bad
again. Danny s seen inside me and I m rotten.
18
the brazilians
Coastalwatch
Swell size 1.5 2 metres  Swell direction E
It s on people &
Thursday. A power swell has arrived and the break is
absolutely jammed. The mid-morning slackers have been
joined by a whole heap of workers throwing sickies and
kids wagging school. I m relieved. So many people means
it ll be easy for me to hide if I see Ryan out there. Up until
now I ve avoided him all week by going early or surfing late.
I m standing down at the Alley in board shorts and a rash
vest, all jittered up with adrenaline, watching waves with
massive faces pushing through like lines of charging
soldiers. There are so many people out there, swarming the
water s surface like insects. I m torn between stretching
properly and giving myself a chance to watch how it breaks,
and just getting in there and finding out. Waves are peaking
in three places: off the point, the middle of the line-up and
over towards the lifesavers building. When it gets good like
this some incredible surfers come out of the woodwork. I
watch this one guy do so many cutbacks he looks like a
skier traversing across a mountain face.
A guy and two girls are standing near me getting
prepared to paddle out. Brazilians. One of the girls has a
short, powerful body and an aquiline nose. The other girl is
a looker. Tall with a thick brown plait hanging down her
back, her teeth show white against her deeply tanned skin.
The three of them chatter to each other in rapid
Portuguese, throwing and catching words and laughs within
their triangle. The guy s beautiful brownness is marked by a
swirling black tattoo covering the right side of his chest and
his right arm, like half a shirt. He stretches his arms over his
head lazily.
The good-looking girl is pulling on a spring suit. It s grey
and sleeveless and does up at the top of each shoulder.
There s something about it that suggests overalls; it s
daggy. But her board s girly  nice and glossy, looks new.
Pink.
I hate pink. Almost as much as I hate frangipanis. I look
down at my borrowed Hard Cut and wish I had my own
board back. Especially now the surf is so big. I don t know
how this board will handle in waves this size.
I put my leg rope on and wash my hands with sand to get
rid of any slippery sunscreen. Then I start wading into the
rip. The paddle out has three sections: the shore break,
then this weird no-man s-land where there s no white water
and the rip ripples into a series of humps like speed
bumps, then the last stretch where waves are breaking.
Today, there is no real  out the back , no safe place to sit
and get a breather, because every now and then a green
monster looms on the horizon and everybody in the line-up
paddles furiously to get through it before it crashes down on
them.
I decide to stay between the arrowhead and the point.
The arrowhead is pretty hardcore today: a mass of restless
bodies all trying to dethrone the alpha males at the tip. The
two Brazilian girls are the only other females out that I can
see.
When I m there, I sit up on my board and take a look
around. The guy paddling past me is a crow and a
gentleman, and I see him out almost every day. He s puffing
hard and gives me a nod.
 Gettin a few? he asks.
 Just got here. How are you going?
 Buggered already and I ve only had two. He stops
paddling and lets his board drift.  Watch yourself today,
love.
 How come?
 There re some serious shenanigans afoot, my word.
I see what he means. On every wave coming through at
least five guys take off. There s a lot of whistling going on.
The locals are taking most of them. They re making the
drop then bottom turning into the nearest man to push them
off. It s physical argy bargy.
I wait ages for a wave. Finally one comes that mounds
closer to the point than the arrowhead. It seems to loom up
out of nowhere. A big one. I get a roaring in my ears as I get
to my feet, blinking because the offshore wind is lacing the
crest and spraying it in my face. I m reminding myself to
lean forward because the worst thing you can do on a big
drop is lean back. But I didn t reckon on the speed. I ve got
so much speed by the time I start my top turn that for a
second I think I m going to shoot straight over the shoulder.
But I make it and I m back to the trough again and suddenly
it s all over. The wave flattens into nothing in the no-man s-
land before the shore break. I jump up and down trying to [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]