The next part of my journey here in Australia involves scowering the coast for the perfect wave. I have already experienced great surf in Curl Curl down in the town of Manly, however being that this trip was originally built around surf spots, there is going to be quite a few waves involved. I'll try not to bore you too much with details of every wave I surfed, but I will tell you about some amazing highlights from a few great spots.
Waking up in Port Macquarie to the muffled murmers of old people peering into my car, debating if I was dead, a bum, or just a really tired guy sleeping in his car, I rolled out of my cave wishing I had put the curtains up around all the windows. As the profoundly aged fled the scene to continue on their dawn walks, I figured I might as well get a move on and dstart checking surf spots in hopes of paddling out before making another great leap up the coast to the next planned beach on he map. Port Macquirie has a few different beaches pointed in difference directions allowing you to pick the best facing beach according to the swell direction coming in. After the first two spots failed to impress me, I was happy to see head high waves at the only northerly facing beach I came to. Throwing on my wet suit, I optimistically sauntered down to the beach, eager to catch waves. There were only a hand full of guys in the water as I was paddling out, and as I was on my way to join them I started noticing large, jagged rocks begin to jut out of the water as the waves would recede the water's depth exposing them. Zig zagging my way out to the peak, I sat and watched the "safe zones" that the locals were surfing, taking note of where and when the death traps revealed themselves.
After building up some courage, I paddled into my first wave, and as I stood up and started taking the wave down the line, three dolphins began riding the wave with me! I could clearly see their slender, streamline bodies through the transparent, turquoise water, pumping their powerful flukes, propelling them along the wave with me. With everything slowing down as if it were in slow motion, I could see the wave, the dolphins, the white sand all beneath me through the glimmering, early morning water. Awestruck at this incredible wave I was on, I couldn't help but think that this wasn't real, however it all became very real very quickly. Now everybody knows that when time slows down into slow motion, in order for it to catch back up to present time, it has to go twice as fast. So as my surreal experience quickly came to an end, in an instant the dolphins did an underwater flip to avoid the shallowing waters before us, returning back out towards the incessant number of aqua bumps rolling in. With time still trying to catch up, I was barely able to notice the protruding rocks speeding towards me. Putting all of my weight on my heals, trying to turn out of the way of the guaranteed hospital appointments in front of me, I just barely missed the rocks as I fell into the white wash.
A bit jolted, flustered, puzzled, ecstatic at what had just happened, I paddled back out to the group to get one approving nod from a local, which was satisfactory enough for me. The rest of the surf session was pretty standard, and after getting out of the water, packing up and getting back to the M1 highway, which roughly runs from Sydney to Cairns, I set off for the next surf town. This would go on for the next four days, going from one sleepy surf town to the next, camping in my little Wicked Camper on the beach. If there were waves, I would stay the day going out multiple times a day only to be hindered by the deep growls of my stomach. Once fulfilled, back out I went until either the sun went down or my arms became flaccid spaghetti noodles, pathetically slapping at the water.
With it being Australia's early spring it still gets dark before 6pm, so I'll often spend my nights at cafe's or pubs, eager to talk to anyone willing to tolerate me being that the only person I talk to is me, myself and Buddy (my car) while on the road for hours at a time. More often than not, I'll end up engaging with someone interesting whether it be the old salty seaman, telling me of his own adventures on the ocean, or a waitress that loves America and can't wait to see LA (I usually shed a bit light on that situation), or some other foreign traveler, trying to find their way in this vast world we live in. It's kind of surreal having conversations with people you meet that you know you'll never, ever see again. I've sometimes caught myself thinking about what it would be like to be them and live the life they have had. Such unique lives each and everyone one of us live... Adversely though, other nights I won't feel like talking to anyone and I'll end up finding myself on some vacant beach writing or reading or sometimes just staring up at the stars in wonderment as I listen to the waves greet the shore.
In a way, I sort of feel like the beach bums you see back home; only with a car, surfboard and electronic devices. Nonetheless, I'm finding this temporary reality to be so much different than my past traveling experiences. In a good way.
The next part of my journey here in Australia involves scowering the coast for the perfect wave. I have already experienced great surf in Curl Curl down in the town of Manly, however being that this trip was originally built around surf spots, there is going to be quite a few waves involved. I'll try not to bore you too much with details of every wave I surfed, but I will tell you about some amazing highlights from a few great spots.
A bit jolted, flustered, puzzled, ecstatic at what had just happened, I paddled back out to the group to get one approving nod from a local, which was satisfactory enough for me. The rest of the surf session was pretty standard, and after getting out of the water, packing up and getting back to the M1 highway, which roughly runs from Sydney to Cairns, I set off for the next surf town. This would go on for the next four days, going from one sleepy surf town to the next, camping in my little Wicked Camper on the beach. If there were waves, I would stay the day going out multiple times a day only to be hindered by the deep growls of my stomach. Once fulfilled, back out I went until either the sun went down or my arms became flaccid spaghetti noodles, pathetically slapping at the water.
With it being Australia's early spring it still gets dark before 6pm, so I'll often spend my nights at cafe's or pubs, eager to talk to anyone willing to tolerate me being that the only person I talk to is me, myself and Buddy (my car) while on the road for hours at a time. More often than not, I'll end up engaging with someone interesting whether it be the old salty seaman, telling me of his own adventures on the ocean, or a waitress that loves America and can't wait to see LA (I usually shed a bit light on that situation), or some other foreign traveler, trying to find their way in this vast world we live in. It's kind of surreal having conversations with people you meet that you know you'll never, ever see again. I've sometimes caught myself thinking about what it would be like to be them and live the life they have had. Such unique lives each and everyone one of us live... Adversely though, other nights I won't feel like talking to anyone and I'll end up finding myself on some vacant beach writing or reading or sometimes just staring up at the stars in wonderment as I listen to the waves greet the shore.
In a way, I sort of feel like the beach bums you see back home; only with a car, surfboard and electronic devices. Nonetheless, I'm finding this temporary reality to be so much different than my past traveling experiences. In a good way.
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