It's not too often that the Hollywood surfsploitation flick " Blue Crush " gets a mention as an accurate depiction of the lives we all lead as surfers. But there is one scene that nails the whole deal for myself.
Kate Bosworth's lead character as the chick ripper has just been pummelled at Pipe during the contest at the movie's climax. Previously traumatised by a similar hammering , she is ready to throw in the towel during the downtime before the final as she prepares backstage.
Along comes the Football playing boyfriend with zero shred cred , yet he delivers the inspirational monologue necessary to get Kate back on the Pipe horse.
He tells Kate about a Footy game where his team was getting thrashed, he was in pain and the whole thing was a washout .....then he made the pass. A single redeemable moment of fingers delivering the perfectly weighted pass that lit up whatever it is inside our minds that recognises an act of physical perfection - or as close as he was ever going to come to it.
A single moment that resonated years later with enough effect to bring a smile of satisfaction to his face.
I've got moments like that myself, moments that I draw upon when I'm bored or down . They sometimes present themselves without provocation as if the memories are clamouring to be appreciated.
Often the moments aren't that which you'd expect from a successful ride and they are virtually never consciously selected.
An example would be the session I just had. Amazing waves with long hollow barrels on offer.
But the moment that is continuously playing through my brain isn't getting spat out of a having pit or leaning through a wrenching cutty on the end section - though those sure are nice - instead it's the hundredth of a heartbeat point where my inside rail grabbed off the bottom ready to launch me into the barrel whilst the wave went square and the lip threatened.
But it's not even my whole body that is represented during the moment. It's the sensation of a few toes on my back foot fighting for the ability to deliver the appropriate amount of pressure to the last foot of my rail as necessary to push into the turn without sliding out.
The moment was seemingly forgotten as quickly as it happened . My mind busy with the rest of the ride. I didn't even think of it for the rest of the session. But now as the afterglow wears thin and the reality of another session fades , it's those few toes and their grasping for purchase that stay with me with alarming clarity.
Surfing is much more than just a series of poses and dance moves necessary to get you to the shoulder . As a quote I read recently stated it's one of the few acts whereby it's possible and essential to calculate your future whilst losing yourself completely in the present.
To have it distilled into a single glorifying second that encompasses the whole act as a profound memory that you can enjoy for a lifetime is a gift.
I find a moment like that can be pleasantly reminisced with or without a cold Bintang .
I choose with....cheers , punters.
Too much thinking, not enough drinking
I saw an Indo taxi driver throw a nice slap to a Russian's face not long after too .
What an epic day.
Thanks, Blowin ... 'just a series of poses and dance moves' ... yeah but the effect on oneself.