Do you like to treat waves like a submissive concubine? Are you in thrall to the movements of mother ocean?
It ain’t that hard of a question. What do you love about surfing?
You talk about it. You spend all your time doing it.
You wouldn’t dream of travelling somewhere that didn’t have at least a semblance of a wave and if you do it’s only because you’re on some bullshit couple’s trip (Oh love, why did you forsake me?).
I got thinking about this because of all the wavepool chatter. I’m in the water every day, except for weekends ’cause they too crazy, and I’m getting all dried up waiting for a tank to be built.
“Imagine,” I said to a pal this morning, both astride our boards, sun out, four feet of picture perfect waves but actually shitty as anything, “If we could drive for thirty minutes inland and get ten good waves in an hour.”
So what do I love about surfing?
I like paddling where there’s no current, sitting by myself and popping my tit muscles through my wetsuit, catching smooth waves, going fast and looking for air sections to blow.
Oh I quite like the ocean with its happy fish (although I don’t blame the Japanese for serving dolphins on rye with kewpie mayonnaise) and those tropical reefs and its moods and colours and blah blah.
But, if you want honesty, if there was a wavepool nearby that was keenly priced or offered some sort of season pass or incentive program which fit my budget, and the ocean suddenly dried up.
Well, I wouldn’t give one royal fuck.
So what is it about surfing that you love?