Hesitation.
I’ve been really, really wanting to go surfing. The days when it’s been sunny and nice, I’ve had to work and the days that I’m free and willing, it’s just a bit too wild for me on my longboard at these unknown breaks where I know no-one. Maybe I should feel shitty about not wanting to take such risks – maybe I’m meant to step up - but I don’t really care about any of that stuff. I don’t care if people think I’m lame or afraid or a wuss. I’ve got nothing to prove on that front.
The other day I looked and was dabbling in the idea of paddling out. It was wild and big and cold, but the fuller wide ones looked manageable and would keep me away from a total pounding on the inside. There were quite a lot of crew out there, and double that number standing on the sidelines watching – the place is like an amphitheatre, which is a bit daunting. I sat on the rocks and watched and wondered and hesitated. If I’d been with a friend, I wouldn’t have wondered at all. I would have gone out. My friends always seem to have more faith in my abilities than I do, which always gives me more courage and confidence. As I sat there, a guy skipped up the rocks towards hi car. What’s it like? I asked him. Pretty full on. There’s a strong rip that drags you around the corner. He didn't advise me against it, but he wasn't suggesting it was good enough out there to take it on either. I talked to him a while longer to avoid making a call on what to do. It's a knack I have.
After he went to get warm, I watched the floating bodies in the section I was thinking I could sit in and they seemed okay. They were all on shortboards too – bodies submerged and flailing, dragging themselves through the water, where I would float on the surface. I knew, really, that I would be okay. I can handle all that.
But then I hesitated. I looked again at the rocks, the steely water and the expanses of whitewash, all with that guy’s words in my ears and, well, that was that. I stayed ashore.
Argh!
The other day I looked and was dabbling in the idea of paddling out. It was wild and big and cold, but the fuller wide ones looked manageable and would keep me away from a total pounding on the inside. There were quite a lot of crew out there, and double that number standing on the sidelines watching – the place is like an amphitheatre, which is a bit daunting. I sat on the rocks and watched and wondered and hesitated. If I’d been with a friend, I wouldn’t have wondered at all. I would have gone out. My friends always seem to have more faith in my abilities than I do, which always gives me more courage and confidence. As I sat there, a guy skipped up the rocks towards hi car. What’s it like? I asked him. Pretty full on. There’s a strong rip that drags you around the corner. He didn't advise me against it, but he wasn't suggesting it was good enough out there to take it on either. I talked to him a while longer to avoid making a call on what to do. It's a knack I have.
After he went to get warm, I watched the floating bodies in the section I was thinking I could sit in and they seemed okay. They were all on shortboards too – bodies submerged and flailing, dragging themselves through the water, where I would float on the surface. I knew, really, that I would be okay. I can handle all that.
But then I hesitated. I looked again at the rocks, the steely water and the expanses of whitewash, all with that guy’s words in my ears and, well, that was that. I stayed ashore.
Argh!
I still do that at my local break sometimes a year after moving here. You'll get there! I have no doubt.
ReplyDeleteI am like that with talking with strangers and surfing and sharing/baring my soul on the internet. You're courageous, wise and a legend wordsmith. Sometimes (and I'm not good at this) we have to let other people have a go at the waves and just soak up the genral vibe.
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