Mum recently wrote a blog about the absence of my contribution to the blogs this Byron Bay trip away, this is not because I do not want to record and express our experiences and our journey, but more the fact that I like to be inspired before I write about something, this trip has been a more, in the moment experiences, and it seems wrong to try and express them in words hours later. But I wanted to recap on one day that I would consider my favourite so far, because the memory is still fresh in my mind, and the words are already starting to burst from my fingertips onto the keyboard, and into the computer.
Two days ago, on Zac and Jan’s last day, the sun was out, sand was soft, and life was good. While Zac and Dad took their boards straight out the front, Jan and I decided to walk around to about halfway to the pass. The waves were small, clean and peeling smoothly from the glassy water’s surface, nice. We splashed in and prepared ourselves for the incoming waves. The feeling you get when you see a perfect wave forming in the distance and slowly rolling towards you is one that is unique, a mixture of excitement, and hope that you will get on it and have a good ride. As I saw the first one coming towards me I paddled, was up and riding along before I knew it, gliding over a smooth, transparent green ribbon, with foaming white broken water in a thick trail behind me. The feeling of riding a good wave could be described as something almost like flying, you feel weightless, gliding over smooth water, blue beneath you, and a clear sky, blue above you. Then the wave brakes in a crash and you dive off, the water engulfs you and you quickly reflect on the ride you just had, and either think, “that was friggin awesome!” or “mmm, not so good” or you punch the water and groan a “Bummer, bad ride”. This first wave of mine was a “that was friggin awesome” with two exclamation marks, it was a small ride, but my first good one all this trip, and it gave me that feeling where you remember something incredible.
The rest of the afternoon was spent catching wave after wave, laughing and talking with Jan and exchanging, “Good wave” or “Bummer, didn’t quite get on that one”. After what could have been an hour, or more, maybe less, it’s hard to know when you’re surfing, it’s like a period of timelessness. We decided to go and see how Zac and Dad were going and paddled over to where they were. After I caught one wave where they were and went straight over the top of a large pile of rocks, only remembering then that they were there, I was renewed with a strange fear of smashing into them and cutting / braking some part of me, I ditched the surfboard on the beach and rejoined the others in the water to body surf. It ended up that we had been in the water for three to three and a half hours, the end part of which was done in a light rain, making it all the more fun.
After we had all come back, showered and eaten lunch, we headed up to the Gold Coast, an hour north from Byron Bay, to drop Zan and Jan off where they would stay the night then fly out early the next morning. The drive was a rewind, listen to music and regain energy time. After we arrived, Zan and Jan checked into their hotel and we separated, Mum, Dad and I heading off for a walk on the beach. After we had surveyed the differences of the beach from out last visit and a short walk we came up and wandered around in various streets where Dad collected a hamburger which he considered ‘entre’. We decided to go for a Thai dinner in which on the way there, found ourselves in a colourful night market.
At dinner we sat at a bar sort of seats at the front of the restaurant where we could look out onto the street and watch passers by. For dinner I had a sweet and sour stir-fry which I thoroughly enjoyed. The drive back to Byron Bay was one of those, almost asleep but awake enough to know what’s going on, journeys. We stopped to get some groceries, and some nice ice cream and then came back home, did our usual evening stuff and then went to bed. Good day.