The plan for the weekend was to climb at Amiata top, to stay in Siena in preparation for the Palio (this is another way to mean: get pissed and look at the girls), but the weather forecast was for rainstorms, and a mountain top close to the sea is not the place to avoid rainstorms in summer.
So I answered the call of the sirens, and went to the sea with my buddy surfer Jacopo, fresh from a California trip.
After one year off I had made this promise: if it's big I don't paddle out. We arrived at the beach and we saw the usual whitewash, forming in the middle of the small bay and proceeding towards the beach. Many years ago, we wouldn't have gone in the water, judging the surf too small. Now we know that perspective plays tricks to surfers, and that those small waves between sets mean very very good surf.
We took our boards, we put our summer tops on, I kneeled down to tie the leash and to pronounce my usual prayer to the sea: "Sea, let's have fun together" and out we paddled.
I took my time, wisely, predicting a very short session otherwise, and I let the first two sets pass. Then I saw my line, I turned my red love and I paddled trying my best. I felt the surge of the wave under the board, then I was speed, a speed that wasn't mine any more, it was the wave's speed, and I was standing, bottomturning and burying my left rail in the small face of the wave, a couple of perfect feet. I gently did some ups and downs, and rode my first wave until the end, with only one thing in mind: being elegant and stylish and smooth. Then I let myself relax and fall in the water, and I was smiling and happy. I jumped back onto my long and I saw my friend on the peak, waving his arms. After a long paddle I was back on the peak and repeated the operation several times, adding some smooth cutbacks to the right to regain the right spot of the wave and the again surfing the whole left.
I stopped only after three and half hours, with my neck and shoulders and arms and legs completely empty and sore. My friend told me "I didn't expect you like this, I'm proud of you."
While I was driving home I was blessed with one glorious, gigantic, technicolor like sunset on the sea.
Tomorrow it's back to work, and I don't mean only at the school. The gym awaits, and there I won't have any smile, any style, any sunset. Only work.
So I answered the call of the sirens, and went to the sea with my buddy surfer Jacopo, fresh from a California trip.
After one year off I had made this promise: if it's big I don't paddle out. We arrived at the beach and we saw the usual whitewash, forming in the middle of the small bay and proceeding towards the beach. Many years ago, we wouldn't have gone in the water, judging the surf too small. Now we know that perspective plays tricks to surfers, and that those small waves between sets mean very very good surf.
We took our boards, we put our summer tops on, I kneeled down to tie the leash and to pronounce my usual prayer to the sea: "Sea, let's have fun together" and out we paddled.
I took my time, wisely, predicting a very short session otherwise, and I let the first two sets pass. Then I saw my line, I turned my red love and I paddled trying my best. I felt the surge of the wave under the board, then I was speed, a speed that wasn't mine any more, it was the wave's speed, and I was standing, bottomturning and burying my left rail in the small face of the wave, a couple of perfect feet. I gently did some ups and downs, and rode my first wave until the end, with only one thing in mind: being elegant and stylish and smooth. Then I let myself relax and fall in the water, and I was smiling and happy. I jumped back onto my long and I saw my friend on the peak, waving his arms. After a long paddle I was back on the peak and repeated the operation several times, adding some smooth cutbacks to the right to regain the right spot of the wave and the again surfing the whole left.
I stopped only after three and half hours, with my neck and shoulders and arms and legs completely empty and sore. My friend told me "I didn't expect you like this, I'm proud of you."
While I was driving home I was blessed with one glorious, gigantic, technicolor like sunset on the sea.
Tomorrow it's back to work, and I don't mean only at the school. The gym awaits, and there I won't have any smile, any style, any sunset. Only work.
No comments:
Post a Comment