Words and photos by a visually smitten Leroy Bellet.

Bobbing on the windswell, the sun beams down on our already sunburnt faces. A light nor-easter is tickling our cheeks, the only things not submerged in the warm water — it’s the start of summer, and boy it feels like it.  

Waiting on a set, the minutes pass by, if you didn’t know this break you’d think we were wasting our time, heck, maybe we are. Several people walk down onto the warm, dark grey, igneous rock shelf but leave after half-an-hour or so of no action.

And then, just as the hunger takes hold of our stomachs - no metaphor, we’re actually starving - a lump looms on the indicator. Facing the other direction to avoid chronic sunburn, I pay no attention to it myself. The sound of the jet ski is a little reality snap and I spin around to see Whip fading onto the inside of a gem, just in time to thrust out an arm. Unlike most other times, Whip isn’t looking at me or posing for the camera, probably because being grated along an unfriendly barnacle-encrusted slab is not the best way to start summer.

Ironically, unlike most other times, I wasn’t looking at Whip. I was caught captivated by the translucent, electric blue streaks as they chased this intruder to the channel. Colour like that only ever exists momentarily, so you’ve gotta admire it when you have the chance; the camera will never do it justice.

I don’t think many people look forward to cyclone season, but this short glimpse of Coral Sea creation has me stuck in a state of permanent anticipation. //LEROY BELLET