One afternoon at my homebreak in Australia, this crusty old surfer guy looked over at me and I smiled back at him politely. He returned the smile, spun his board around, splashed and started to paddle over. I looked at him in complete horror. It was almost 6pm; all I wanted was just one more wave for the day and not be hassled.
Deep breath.
Smile, kick board around, and face him. He sat up on his board; his thin, severely sunburnt lips opened to the words “have you been on any surf trips lately? Got any planned aye?”. I stopped for a minute to process what he’d just asked. He looked at me, waiting for an answer. I replied “I’m thinking of going to Indo or to the Philippines to visit family-friends and surf at the
same time, but the world’s kinda sketchy right now. Not too sure, why? “.
His reply – “Don’t be such a girl”
I told him that I actually have the right to “be such a girl” and which destination was he taking his arse to next. His face and tone changed to one resembling an angst-rebellious-teen –
“Anywhere I damn well please girly! Ain’t nobody gonna bloody take surfing away from me. This is my life”. He heaved his chest, spat out the salty remnants of the days saltwater consumption then turned around to catch one of the golden waves the ocean was serving up that afternoon.
I was confused by that whole moment of conversation, but on the other hand his balls-out attitude was enviable and respected on my behalf. I watched him for a while, his skin was tanned like a worn leather boot and the wrinkles on his face read like stories of his life as a surfer, maybe over exaggerating his real age.
I guess he was in his mid-50’s. He’s the kind of guy that thrives off leaving at the drop of a hat, with $10 in his pocket, 2 bananas, a hammock and the rubber slippers on his feet.
A lot of people, even myself at times are content to just take the 5 minute bike ride or 2 hour bus ride to surf your local break every single day or weekend. All the while dreaming about that spontaneous, no-frills surf trip with some buddies to one of the Philippines very own “secret spots”. Or the 5 star charter boat trip somewhere off the coast of the Maldives. You start to drift off with these thoughts of bliss, but then the fear and doubt kick in.
“What if the mosquitoes inject me with life inducing malaria?”
“What if some kamikaze militant guns me down in the middle of the night?”
“What if my cash gets stolen?”
“I can’t leave my job/loving partner/responsibilities, JUST to go SURFING!”
All of these things culminating, leading your mind to stray back to the warmth and security of home and your local break.
The old guy had a point. I was “being such a girl”. He’s probably crammed more experiences into his years than a lot of people will in their entire lifetime. Purely for that thing everybody’s heard of, but only a select few in the world know about, surfing. To be honest, I envied the guy. He’s probably in Java right now fighting off psychotic monkeys in the jungle and riding set-ups we can only imagine. Kudos to those who have the guts to throw themselves into the world with reckless abandon.
And as for me, I stayed at my home break, following the routine. It’s true that familiarity breeds contempt, but there’s a difference between contempt and just outright lying to and denying yourself.One month ago I boarded a Manila bound plane from Australia with my surfboard, skateboard, backpack and hammock in hand. No destination, no defined plans, just moments. Life, frame by frame.
Curious locals at some unsurfed spot getting more amped about fly away kickouts rather than the actual surfing. Hellish bus trips that seem to have no end. On foot through dense jungle for hours on end, finally coming out to the view of a pristine wave
bouncing across the reef without a single soul in sight. Sunburn, motorbike burns, reef cuts, stomach cramps.Bombing hills on skateboards and eating concrete as consequence. Being a stranger, but still having the local surfing community welcome you without hesitation. Hitching rides on cargo ships with 150 “3-months-at-sea-sexually-starved” sea men and being the only female onboard, just to save some cash so my travels went further. Stupid little things like this. This is the adventure I have chosen because
I love surfing, skating, art, music, travel and living. There are extreme highs and lows, but all of this drama is my fun, my love. Just like surfing was life to the old guy.
But, I like so many others sometimes forget about life. Daily routine and contentment cements its place into our hearts and minds and eventually real life just becomes background noise.
Adventure, it’s not some romantic notion. This is now, life. We only have one single shot at it. People might palm that old guy off as just another disillusioned fool, maybe he was or maybe he’s just clued into what life is really about. The simple things that surpass us everyday.Take your chance; choose your own adventure...
[An article I wrote for the Filipino surf/skate/music magazine URGE in 2004]
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