The best day ever...
Port Stephens Sand Dune Sunset
After so many great expectations, the best day ever had begun not so well. ‘Goodsey’, his best mate, had planned a midweek surf at a favourite, isolated spot, and they had both been able to wrangle a guilt-free day off work.
Years ago, a covert day off work was much more satisfying than a sanctioned one because of the lack of guilt it had elicited. But that was before responsibility, love, children and mortgages.
So, the day was arranged weeks before in the hope of good surf and weather coinciding. His birthday would also make it more special to his family and his mate. His birthdays weren’t such a big deal for Luke. But hey, if it helped justify a day surfing, then so be it! Luke enjoyed other people’s birthdays more than his own and found it hard to accept any fuss about his.
With age came more reflection and less lifting of the carpet for hiding truths and secrets. The last year or so had seen Luke struggle with a hidden darkness behind his bright green eyes and sun-weathered, omniscient smile.
The black dog, however, had been coaxed out for more regular walks and years of happy, hidden sadness, which was being talked about, understood, and, better still, accepted.
Last night, backed by a perfect forecast, held the anticipation of clean waves and a blue sky. The spot was isolated enough that only a few would make the 2k walk in when other places were easier to get to and had their own quality waves.
The spot was their place. He and Goodsey had first camped there as 14-year-olds when the surf first took hold of their bodies, souls and, for a long time, sole possession of their hearts. Others knew about it, and ‘the spot’ could often be crowded on weekends, but midweek, at this time of year, they might even have it to themselves.
At 5 am, Luke heard Goodsey’s old 4WD ute rattle onto his drive. He gulped a last mouthful of Weetbix and half rinsed the bowl before setting it quietly in the sink. His board and gear were in the carport, ready for loading, and he got downstairs and out the front door so quickly that the ute had barely stopped.
The quiet excitement and anticipation disappeared with one look at his friend’s face.
‘Sorry mate,’ he said, hardly able to look up. ‘Hank can’t make work, and I need to be there for today’s pour.’
Hank was the foreman at Goodsey’s concreting business, and his experience, trustworthiness and reliability allowed Goodsey the time and peace of mind to take the occasional day off.
‘What’s up with him?’ Luke knew Hank well; it had to be serious if he couldn’t make it to work.
‘It’s that bastard son-in-law…’ was enough for Luke to know that Hank’s daughter had probably been hit again.
‘Why does she stick with the mongrel? She ok?’
‘Yeah, a bit of a shiner, but nothing broken. At least this time, she called the cops. Hank’s helping her move out.’
‘Well, at least that’s good,’ Luke said, putting down the board he had just picked up.
‘Hey mate, what are you doin’? You go — the waves will be great. It’s offshore, five foot — perfect birthday pressie, mate.’
Goodsey grabbed Luke’s board, putting it and his gear in the ute with the food and water he’d organised last night. ‘You take the ute; I’ll catch up later in one of the work trucks.’
He could see Luke hesitate, so he spoke quickly as he moved around to the passenger side, ‘Drop me off at the site on the way! Don’t miss these waves, mate — you’ll be dead a long time, and ya gettin’ bloody old now!’
So, before he could back out, he had dropped Goodsey at work and soon arrived at the break in the trees where the track to the dunes began. The old ute meant he’d be able to get much closer to the break, so he’d only have to climb one or two sand hills.
From the top of the last one, he could see a perfect little peak peel off across a shallow bank with fast tubing left and right walls. No one was out, and the beach was empty — a perfect present.
In younger, invincible times, there would have been no second thoughts. He and Goodsey would rush to the water, barely taking time to wax their boards.
Now, though, he was more measured. The allure of a perfect empty break was tempered by the occasional fins they had seen at their spot over the years. A shark had never hassled them, but surfing alone had made Luke a little more uneasy the older he got.
Besides, Goodsey was bigger and a little slower — something to be considered when choosing a surfing buddy. Luke smiled at the joke they often shared and his mate’s retort that he would be ok because ‘Sharks don’t like blackfellas!’
As he walked down the dune and closer to the shore, a new set broke, and any reluctance was set aside. Methodically, he stripped down and then pulled on his wetsuit. It would be a warm day, but the water was still cold this early in spring. Besides, last night at dinner, hadn’t his kids said he was ‘ancient’ this time? Just before they sang him ‘Happy Birthday’.
The cold water was quickly forgotten as he broke through the shorebreak. The surf wasn’t big — just a good, fun, comfortable size. Perfect to play and relax in.
His first wave peaked quickly, and he hardly had to paddle. Just turn and sink the board backwards into the face. Momentum launched him and, in a single motion, was on his feet, leaning low to make the turn before the lip crashed onto his back. Tucked up tight, he crouched, becoming wrapped in a watery blanket. Some long seconds later, the wave pushed him across the wall as it feathered far down the line, preparing to close out. He pushed down into a final bottom turn and launched the board over the lip.
In younger times, he would have attempted a crashing re-entry just like his heroes in the surf magazines. He was content to glide down the back of the wave, looking for the next one.
Already, it felt like the best day ever….
Also published on Medium