Kelly goes because he knows. A mystery that will never be solved at The Box.
“Only a surfer knows the feeling.”
It is a wise adage and a statement that causes some reflection whenever our sport, pastime, pursuit of pure joy, or whatever you want to call it, enters the mainstream media.
I feel it is a great truism in Australia right now, as Western Australia’s shark cull policy continues to get legs, after a pretty horrendous summer in the west. Further flapping was spurned on the web with Kelly Slater being photobombed by a “shark” (I think it was a photog) at The Box.
For me and the average punter, I think, when we paddle out into a big blue abyss, there is always a moment when the shadow, the wash, the sun, the other wildlife provides some spurt of adrenaline that ain’t stoke – it isn’t necessarily a feeling of fear but a jolt of awareness.
An awareness that says, “Hey, you ain’t in control. You are subject to the hand you’re dealt, and you need some level of capacity to play this hand.” Maybe it’s nothing. But maybe it’s something.
I often find that awareness when I’m duck diving: eyes wide open, staring at nothing and everything at the same time and wondering what is beyond the blue while knowing that there is plenty.
We know, paddling out at dusk and at dawn. We know when we rock hop or boat dive that we are entering a realm beyond our control. We know. But we also know that the rewards are great: the push, the glide, the power, the solitude, the sharing, the stoke. We know.
So when a bunch of bureaucrats and legislators try to tell us what’s good for us, it’s disrespectful and pretty dumb. I know this is close to the bone for some, but we know when we take the step into the salt water that everything may be on the line. But we go. We go because we know.
