Still Waving (4 page)

I awoke to dawn light peeping through a gap in the curtains. Dressing hurriedly, I grabbed my wetsuit and surfboard and placed them in the hall. Aunt Jean was still asleep. I tiptoed passed her door and went out and up on to the roof. The sun hadn't appeared but it announced its imminent arrival with shafts of light stretching to the dark sky above. The rays of the impending sun reflected across the water and into the clouds of smoke above. There was a slight south-westerly breeze. Great, there'd be some kind of swell.

Looking towards the southern end of the beach, I tried to make out in the semi-dark, if the ocean was good for surfing. I thought I could detect the roll of waves in the blackened water. Why did I always forget to bring the binoculars? Maybe I ought to stash them somewhere safe on the roof. I realised immediately that it wouldn't work because I used them from the balcony regularly too. They'd never be where I wanted them. I looked to the horizon at the smoke sitting motionless. It didn't seem as thick as yesterday. The sky above lightened and the distant stars started
disappearing, one by one. To the west there was a crescent moon low in the sky. The lights were still on in the streets, and the cafés on Campbell Parade. It was going to be a good day. I could feel it in my bones!

I raced downstairs, had a glass of water, grabbed a banana and ate it as I pulled my wetsuit on. I wrote a quick note for Aunt Jean. This was one of her rules. No matter what, I had to let her know where I was going. I wrote I doubted I'd be back before she went to work, SURF'S UP, in big letters. Sometimes Aunt Jean watched me surfing through the binoculars. This gave me a warm feeling. Even though Aunt Jean drove me mad sometimes, I knew she cared for me.

I closed the front door quietly and raced down the stairs to the street. Kate wasn't there. I wondered if she was awake yet. I hoped so, because I wouldn't wait forever. I could see more of the street and could hear the air brakes of descending buses and garbage trucks roaring around Military Road. One of my neighbours jogged by and we nodded at each other in recognition. A couple of people from the flats down the road were just getting home.

‘Jules.'

I looked up and could see Kate shadowed against the fading night sky.

‘Kate, hi. I reckon the wind's offshore.'

‘It's definitely coming from over there.' Kate pointed south west.

We padded down the street in a half run.

‘Do you want to go along the Parade or beach?'

‘How far is it?'

‘About a kilometre.'

‘Let's go along the beach.'

We headed past the rock pool. It was half full of seawater. The tide was coming in. Waves crashed, spraying spumes of whitewater over the rocks. There were a couple of fishermen at Ben Buckler Point. We walked hastily along the top of the beach. There weren't many cars on Campbell Parade. A cacophony of birdsong beat the traffic sounds. Sulphur-crested cockatoos screeched around the decreasing shadows of the pavilion. Rainbow lorikeets hopped around the grass, and on and off the overflowing rubbish bins. Pied magpies were noisily engaged in a battle with the lorikeets for control of the rubbish bins.

‘I didn't expect that there would be so many birds,' Kate said, looking towards the pavilion and the screeching cockies. ‘It's probably one of the only cities in the world where there are more than pigeons, sparrows and mynahs.'

We walked to the water's edge and felt the water temperature. Waves crashed intermittently against
the shore. A tractor up ahead was raking the sand for rubbish. Two beach buggies crawled along beside the tractor. One had large rubbish bins on it and the other one had the rescue boards that they placed along the foreshore. Anyone could use them but they mostly were for the lifesavers to use if anyone got into trouble in the water. Several people with metal detectors were moving up and down and around and round the sand, hunting for the loose change that had fallen out of other people's pockets.

The sky lightened and day crept over the suburbs. The smoke gave the rising sun an eerie look. From a huge golden orb rising above the sea, it became like a red basketball above the horizon. The reflections of light, mixed with smoke, made the sky in the east, amber streaked with topaz. Rays of sunlight streaked across the water.

‘Being a surfer is so good,' Kate said. ‘We see the best sunrises and sunsets nearly every day of our lives.'

‘It's magic.' I laughed and felt lighter than I had in a long time.

We stopped for a moment and took in the confused sky. Kate turned around.

‘I've never seen so many joggers in my life.'

‘I'd rather surf or swim. I don't get this running thing,' I replied, silently counting joggers.

‘Me either.'

When we reached the southern end there were a handful of surfers out near the break. A few people stood close to shore, facing the sun. Others were in the water ducking under waves as they rolled across them. The lifesavers had already put the safety flags up. We put our towels between the flag and the southern reef.

We watched a young guy wipe out.

‘Grommet!' Kate and I said together, laughing.

We paddled out beyond the break. The waves were nearly a metre. Not big, but good to practise techniques on.

‘Be careful of the leftie,' I said pointing to the reef. ‘You can end up getting scraped on the rocks if you wipe out over there.' I studied the sea. ‘It's okay, they're breaking right.'

‘Doesn't look like we'll be shooting tubes today, it hasn't got the height.' Kate spoke very loudly.

‘No but there's plenty else we can do.' I didn't say I hadn't advanced to tubes, yet.

We rocked up and down and watched out to the ocean for the signs of the best waves rolling in.

‘I'm off!' I started paddling, ready for the rise of the wave.

I was up and trimmed along the face. I sped along, spray hitting my face, stinging slightly. I went all the way and pulled out before the wave broke. I felt
exhilarated and paddled straight back out, energised and capable of anything.

Kate and I didn't talk much. We were both focused totally on the waves. Occasionally we called encouragement and congratulated each other when we did something wicked. I did some excellent cut-backs and was ecstatic that I'd got this manoeuvre down to a fine art.

The breeze was shifting and the swell started to drop. The ocean became glassy and the morning surf was disappearing very fast. Instead of sets, the waves became scarce and irregular.

‘You're good,' Kate said as she paddled over to me.

‘You did some cool stuff yourself.'

‘Thanks. Heaps of practice.'

‘Did you teach yourself?' I asked Kate.

‘Sort of. My Dad surfed, that's how come I learnt so young. As I got older I watched videos of women's pro/am comps. You know Pam Burridge, Lisa Anderson and the rest. I just sort of copied them, but tried to develop my own style. My first board was called the “Girl Board”. It was made in the 1950s. I've still got it.'

‘Unreal.'

‘You ought to come to my house one day and check it out. It's pretty fragile, though. It's made of balsa wood,' Kate laughed.

I knew what balsa wood was from my days on the farm and the aeroplanes we'd made. We'd fly them for hours, all over the paddocks, even amongst the sheep.

‘That's incredible. Your board is like fifty years old!'

‘I'm going to have a fiftieth birthday party for Gidget. That's her name. Do you want to come?'

‘Gidget?'

‘That's what my auntie called her and the name has stuck.'

‘When's the party?'

‘I'll have to ring my aunt and ask her the exact date.'

‘Does your aunt still surf?'

‘No. She stopped when she got married and lives hundreds of miles from the beach now.'

That sounded sad.

As we walked up the beach, I felt excited. I was usually not interested in meeting other people, but I was looking forward to meeting Kate's family.

‘Do you enter comps?' I asked tentatively.

‘No. Not interested. I don't like all the rules and shit, and the judging of your ride by some wannabe. I reckon competitions cramp your style. You can't freestyle because there's points for this and points for that. If you get a crappy wave, you're history. It's not my scene.' Kate turned and smiled. ‘What about you?'

‘No, I've never done it. I haven't even joined any clubs or anything.'

I suddenly felt awkward about entering my first competition. Maybe I'd withdraw, maybe I wasn't ready yet. I wondered if my surfing dream was only a crazy fantasy.

‘Not into groups, huh?'

‘Not really.' I couldn't tell Kate it was because I didn't want anyone to ask me questions about my past. I wouldn't be able to fool the Bondi girls with a story about me growing up here. They'd know I hadn't and then they'd want to know where I'd come from and the rest. I didn't want to have to tell every person I ever met my life story. I felt a stab of anger and kicked the sand. Why, when things appeared simple, did they suddenly become complicated? Did I really want to be world champion? What about when they questioned me about my past? Doubt flooded in.

Kate looked at me. ‘Are you all right?'

I kept walking. ‘I'm fine. I just got some sand in my feet and I was trying to shake it out.' I didn't care if Kate believed me or not.

We silently walked along the beach. More people were making claims to bits of sand with their towels, bags and lotions. I could smell coconut oil and sunscreen. My arms were sore from all the paddling I'd done. I stopped and took a huge slug of water and
it dribbled down my chin. I wiped it away.

‘That was excellent. I'm stoked,' Kate said. ‘That's the best set of breaks I've ridden since I got here.'

‘It's usually pretty good. Most of the year you get surf here, especially the southern end.'

‘Have you tried the northern end?' Kate asked.

‘A few times. It's awesome. There's a great rip that can take you straight back out so fast, it's amazing. It's so scary if you head for the rocks.'

I put my hand up to my eyes and pointed to the end of Ben Buckler. There was a patrol boat already crashing through the waves, heading around the point.

‘I had one freaky experience. I thought for sure I was going to be cut to pieces. My board got scraped and a few dints.' I laughed now, but at the time I thought I was dead.

‘I want to do it.' Kate did a little jig.

‘If you're here a few weeks it's sure to be happening one day. It'll be great doing it with you in case I need to be scraped off the rocks.'

‘Now look who's being disgusting.'

‘It happens.' I stared knowingly.

‘Amateurs!'

I felt a pang of envy at Kate's lack of fear. I'd been taught to always be a little afraid, alert to the ocean's signs. It had been drummed into me that the ocean
was all powerful, it was nature and could not be tamed or controlled. I sighed.

‘You have to be careful. There are statistics you know.'

‘Statistics!'

‘You know fatalities, casualties, that sort of thing.'

‘There's statistics everywhere. Who cares! If your number's up, your number's up.'

I froze. Kate kept walking, oblivious to my nervous breakdown. I felt I was going to splutter out something I'd really regret. I saw a maze in front of me, paths going nowhere, made purposefully to get you lost. My legs shook. Kate grabbed my arm. I'd forgotten she was there.

‘Jules, Jules you're freaking me out. What's wrong?'

I couldn't think of an answer. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

‘I … I … just sort of blanked out. I mean maybe it's the sun or something. I've only had a banana to eat. I'm starving.'

Kate looked puzzled. ‘Are you sure you're all right?'

‘Don't worry, I'm fine.'

I wanted to ask Kate if that had ever happened to her. Did she ever have that feeling that the world stopped? Lost time. Where did it go?

In front of us a child was crying. It snapped me out of my reverie. The child demanded her mum stop
the small waves, rushing the shoreline. The mother laughingly tried to explain why she couldn't but the child screamed louder and ran off to the water, screaming at the waves, ‘Stop, STOP!'

Kate and I looked at each other.

‘My mother would have slapped me down if I carried on like that. It'd embarrass the pants off her,' Kate said quietly.

I looked at her and then looked back at the woman who'd run down to the water. The child was laying face down. A wave must have knocked her over. The screaming had stopped and the child sobbed in her mother's arms.

‘Karma,' Kate said.

‘She's only a child,' I said gruffly.

‘Chill out. I was only joking. I don't believe in any of that stuff anyway.'

‘Wonder what time it is?' I looked at the position of the little red sun. The smoke haze made it hard to tell, but I guessed it to be about ten o'clock. Even though the sun was covered it still emitted a burning heat. Looking at the position of the sun in the sky to tell the time, was a habit I'd maintained from living on the farm.

‘It's going to be a scorcher, I reckon.'

Kate laughed. ‘That sounds like real bush talk.'

‘Where I come from, that's how we talk.'

‘Was it hard to adjust to city lingo? Did you have to stop talking about the weather?' Kate sounded serious.

I laughed. ‘I can get away with talking a bit of weather because of surfing, but my friends' eyes glaze over when I start talking about how close the isobars are. But how hard is city talk? I mean, yo, ho, bro. Get real. That was the easy part.'

‘Up my way everyone thinks they come out of a rap record or somewhere totally unreal, like the streets of LA. I'd love to drop them all off there and say pick you up in a month, bro.'