Making Friends With The Neighbours

I haven’t been writing much lately. The thing is that every time I go to write, it feels like I am simply writing the same story over and over again. I feel like all that each tale achieves is to reveal what a slow learner I am and lets you all see more than you should. Are stories supposed to be that selfish? To be honest I’ve lost perspective on what I have and haven’t said, but this one has been sitting inside my chest for a couple of weeks now, so I suppose I might as well let it out… ***** A few weeks ago, I went for a surf. It was my first time on a board in over 2 months. Exciting. I decided to paddle out at my love, The Pass. Conditions were pretty wonderful - the sky was clear and blue, the water was warm, there were peelers galore and it wasn’t too busy. I wasn’t looking for much anyway. I intended to sit wide and get waves further along. I just wanted to catch some waves and spend some time in my body, not my thoughts. I wanted to feel all the things you feel when...

When I was in high-school, there were two jobs in particular that I was attracted to; forensic scientist and marine biologist. I loved biology and did well in my classes, topping my year more than once. Nerd! For reasons that don't bear explaining, forensic science piqued my interest when I was about 14, which might go some way to explaining my deep and abiding love for CSI across its many cities, with my order of preference being 1. Las Vegas, 2. New York and then 3. Miami (the least loved of the CSI family). Marine biology is a less interesting teenage dream as, let's admit it, all coastal children aim to live and work in the ocean, contributing to its health. Nonetheless, despite the cliche, it was my direction of choice. After finishing school and being accepted into the course, I deferred study to go travelling, where I met a young man who laughed at my dreams of saving the ocean, one turtle at a time, Don't be ridiculous , he mocked. You can't do that! You love...

A snippet of conversation at the pub last night; Me: So have many of the pro crew been surfing down here since the Noosa festival finished? Joe: Of course! Loads of them. They're all over The Pass. I was talking to Sam about it the other day, and he reckons he's never seen so many people surfing in denim shorts! Me: Haha !! How do you even surf in denim? Suzy: Yeah. The other day, one guy was out in denim shorts and a full button-up shirt, done up to the neck. It certainly didn't look very comfortable.

I came across this film by Dominic Coleman, over at The Surfer's Path , More Surfing Videos A comedian and actor by trade, Coleman explains that creating this cringe-making character, wasn’t actually that difficult for him: “I started surfing about five years ago and as a landlocked, middle-aged weekend warrior I didn’t have to look too far for inspiration for the character of ‘Michael’. My family all appear playing themselves, again they didn’t have to do too much acting! I also pulled in a few favours from friends like Adrian at Fluid Juice and a few Bantham (Sth Devon) locals who all gave up a bit of time to help out. “The inspiration for the character did actually come from a guy I met at Bantham. His wife and young daughter were lugging his SUP across the car park as he was chatting boards with another sweeper. He had a brand new T5 that he’d converted. I just thought he was a very funny guy and one of the ‘new’ breed of mid-life escapists who’d been drawn to the...

It being Friday and all, I thought I'd share a card my friend sent me for christmas . I probably shouldn't love it as much as I do. Looking at it, it totally reminds me of that perplexing 60s surf film, How To Stuff A Wild Bikini ...

I sat down at a cafe the other day to find a copy of recently released, The Ninth Wave (compiled by Sean Doherty and presented by Surfing World), sitting on the table. The book is a journey through 100 surfing images, using words from the photographer or the subject to tell the tale behind each photograph. It is very pretty, and a lovely idea. How much do you bet that I don't find a single woman in this book? I asked my friend as I picked it up. She shrugged. I flicked through every page of this book and unless I missed something (and I may have), there is not a single image of, nor a single photograph or story by a woman. In 100 hundred images. In 2011. In a publication presented by the Australian surfing magazine that is most supportive of women. In Australia, home to the current and four-time women's world shortboarding champ, Steph Gilmore, as well as one of the most significant female competitive surfers ever, Layne Beachley . In a country with an ever-growing female...

I went home a week or so ago. It had been over 6 weeks since I had been anywhere near the ocean, so I had been waiting, aching, dreaming of the moment when I would be in the water again. And a trip home was long overdue. I packed the car and headed south but as I drove out of the city, I realised I had forgotten my board. Forgotten! My board! Instead of tied to my roof, it sat on its side in my garage in Paddington – dry and in the way. I could have kicked myself. My other mal has a ding and I’m embarrassed to admit that I’m too unfit to ride the 7’4” in the strong currents that have been running at the points. But there was no going back. I was on the highway and on my way and it would have meant getting stuck in peak-hour traffic, which is always a nightmare. So I sucked it up. I could always borrow a board if I wanted to. But when I got home, none of that mattered because I didn’t surf. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t feel like it. I felt guilty for not wanting to...

From 2000, I lived in Sydney for nearly four years. It was only last decade, but sometimes it seems like a lifetime ago... When I first moved there, I hated it. I found it shallow, noisy, bright, vain and self-obsessed, and I couldn't find my own rhythm in amongst the pace. I'd never lived in a city before - I'd always found myself by the sea or in the countryside in small communities - so to move to Sydney was quite a big deal and lifestyle change. I found the lack of community, the disregard for each other and the focus on money and status to be strange and silly and petty, but what I found most difficult was the the grime, the constant sound of traffic, and the lack of stars. With the beautiful bright lights of the skyline came the loss of the night, the stars and the sounds of the ocean. In the end, I found ways to love Sydney, and I remain smitten. I love the harbour, I love the bridges, I love the parks, the pools, the buildings. I love the busy middle of the CBD, th...

My friend, Brett Caller , is a super fun person to surf and hang out with. He constantly froths and is always encouraging and supportive, while still managing to tease the hell out of me. Watching him surf, I have learned how to get waves in a busy lineup, while still being generous and respecting the people around me. He has his own blog , but also posts over at Valla , which is where I found the following post and image (by Dane Peterson ); ***** Growing up all I wanted was to do the biggest most radical turns I could do and the thought of not moving and simply just trimming across a wave bored the absolute shit out of me. Now days it's probably one of my favourite surf time's. I love the free feeling that you get from a 8'9 Alaia, no fins, no drag just trim. The speed is like no other I reckon it the fastest I have ever been on a wave in a straight line.

Sitting at home in the city trying to work - with the thick, muggy air crowding me, clothes clinging to my skin, last night's drinks scratching at my brain, and the task of willing eggs on toast to appear ready and prepared in front of me taking all my energy - and all I can think about it how much I would like to be immersed in the ocean, looking back at a green and rocky headland. What sweet bliss, what sweet relief it would be to plunge under the waves, under the water, the coolness of it washing the remains of last night's excess away. The long, cold shower I take instead is a poor compromise. Ugh.

Like all nations with a vibrant tourist industry, Australia produces some pretty questionable postcards. Which, may I admit here and without shame, I love. I love them. In fact, I used to have a whole sort of side-project, where I would keep my eyes open for them and send them to friends who were over the seas and living abroad.* I bought these ones the other day to send to you all via my blog. I hope you enjoy them... (I feel like this would have worked better if the Koala was on the nose of a longboard - hang ten, man!) *Send me your address if you're keen!

So I finally made myself some time to look through all the blogs and sites I have been unable to get to recently. Some of them I have been saving up, as I know they will be full of shiny jewels like the clip below (which I found on the always excellent The Endless Bummer );

Next night out, I am bringing this back. Katie, Nat and Sarah, you have been warned... (In my head, I'm the chick in the blue dress.)

I saw this photgraph by Paul Worsley over at Common Ground this morning. I love it. It is such a great image and a common one around where I live. In fact, this photo is the summer version of the very break I wrote a story about nearly two years ago... Rivermouth I clamber down the sandbags that now constitute my beach track and head south along the sand. The sky is clear and the sun is warm and my jumper comes off pretty fast. There's some little waves breaking out the front that might be fun later. It's been weeks since I've been anywhere near the beach, so I just want to go for a walk and look around and check it out again. The beach seems pretty empty, but I notice a couple of guys up in the dunes looking south, checking the surf. And a couple more. And more. And some with chairs. They're really engrossed. It must still be working further down. Harley told me last night that it was about the only bank in the whole region doing anything at the moment. ...

(I can't actually believe I didn't know about this until now. Sigh.) The California Surf Museum is currently hosting an exhibition called: Women on Waves: Performance, Beach Fashion and Feminine Mystique in the World of Surfing . I reckon it looks great and I really wish I could go and check it out. If you have seen it, can you let me know what it was like? Thanks! Women on Waves Exhibit from Angelica Bonomo on Vimeo .

In my heart, I always knew. In my heart I always held a place ready for the fallout and the pain. In my head I pushed aside the thoughts that lingered like shadows; whispering, pointing, asking questions, anxious. In the end it is your shadow that haunts me; whispering, pointing, asking questions, anxious. But now the clouds have drawn themselves across the sun, and shadows cannot live without light. They disappear, their stories fading... Forgotten. In my heart, time passes.

Rides A Bike has got to be on some 'Top-10 Most Adorable Websites' list. If not, it should be.

I was VERY excited to find out this morning that Joni Sternbach has been awarded the Art Park/Atlantic artist's residency in Bryon Bay. I have talked about Joni Sternbach on this blog a few times before, and her images are inspiring , so I was so stoked to read of her award. And in my home town and all!! Congratulations, Joni. Perhaps I'll see you around town...

Over the years, some of my urban, non-surfing friends have expressed concerns about my associations with surfing. Variously, they have counselled me to get a better paying job, to leave the coast and to grow up. They have expressed their concern that the surfing stories I write and and the ideas I work on preclude me from being taken seriously in the wider world. I listen to them, smile and nod, and appreciate that their interventions are based on care for me and their worry that surfing is holding me back from a greater level of success in my life, work and finances. They love me dearly and only wish me the best. So I sit and I listen to them. But I always find myself smiling and drifting, their words taking me away into the water. Because I like my life and I like that the ocean and catching waves are a part of it, I like the way all of that makes me feel and that I get to write about all of that. I feel lucky. Maybe it is a one-sided relationship, but it certainly works for me.

So, a fair bit of time has passed (and a lot has happened) since I last posted back on December 16th. Since that time my internet:computer:time:energy ratio has been a bit of a negotiation through family, location, obligations, stress, work, and other assorted and general end-of-one-year-beginning-of-the-next chaos. But I have been blogging in my head, so the plan is to back date posts to get me back to this date. I will try and post them in order, but I can't promise anything. If you are really keen, you might have to keep looking back through between here and Dec 16th to catch all that I post in the coming week or so. I'm not certain it is the most rational or necessary method, but this is my blog, so I get the final say in making this that slightly dubious call. It might take me a bit of time, but you will know when I have caught up with myself and stopped posting previous to this, because this post will no longer be the top one, and will itself get buried bene...