Just had one of those experiences that makes you take a deep breath, look around at this wondrous world and feel profoundly grateful for being alive.
It was a stunner of a morning at Manly beach. There was just a touch of cool to the light offshore breeze and the air had that fresh clarity you get after an overnight rain. The ocean was smooth and silvery to the horizon and there was a tiny ankle to knee high line coming slowly in at South Steyne. There wasn’t a soul in the water.
I’d stopped to take a picture for this morning’s report, when a chap carrying an interesting, vintage looking mal walked down the stairs to the sand. Although the chance of him even being able to catch something looked pretty slim, I figured it would be worth waiting to at least get a paddling out shot.
At that moment a lady came up to me and asked if I might do her a favour. Would I take a picture of the man with the board. His father died last night and he was paddling out to catch a wave to pay his respects to his dad whom I learned had spent a lifetime surfing Manly.
As we chatted, the surfer’s son paddled out. And as he did so, a little line appeared. A moment later, he swung around as the ripple transformed into an immaculate waist high peak with a long gently sloping wall that was just exactly right for a mal.
He rode it all the way in.
Surfer son for surfer father.