Those very waves. Photo: Simon Triplett
Doolin. Doolin. Doolin. Remember Doolin.
Three great waves, maybe 500 meters apart. A long, right rocky/reefy pointbreak, reeling down the line, groomed by the offshores, glowing in the afternoon light, rainbow rooster tails, and only two blokes out! I want my log; my fish to just stream through those curves, drawing lines like a master artist.
Then, in front, a wedgey, peaky reef. The swell direction doesn’t seem quite right, but the potential is clear. Finally, off the tip of the little island, a barreling, round and throaty right hand reef break with a particularly draining end section, reminiscent of a reef back home, but longer. Offshore also, the waves spit more times than not. Such a plethora of waves of such different types and shapes. So much potential to slide, turn and take to the air.
I miss surfing. It’s been about five months now since I’ve put on a rubber suit and dove in or cruised down to some summertime onshore with my boardshorts flapping harmlessly in the wind around my knees. It truly is a passion and seeing these three setups with a total of five surfers spread thinly between them has left me nothing short of frustrated.
The salt air, the feeling of dried salt upon the skin in summer time, white salt stains on your shirts, your hat. The feeling of throwing your beanie back on after an early morning session in winter, a wet steamer in the plastic tub in the back of your car, numb toes. I miss these feelings. It’s something that will inevitably happen – you will travel, or find work in a new town, or move away from the comforts of the beach you call home and you may find yourself wondering exactly what you are doing.
But don’t despair. This clarity only makes you realize that the ocean represents so much more to you than a body of water. It’s a home, a home that surrounds every piece of land on this earth. There’s always an opportunity to bodysurf, swim and splash around like a grommet again. You may be lucky enough to find a board to borrow, rent or even buy. It’s bittersweet. It stings, but that only adds to the addiction.
Doolin, you are beautiful in all your glory. You’ve re-opened a wound I had hurriedly sutured shut, and now I face this wound festering throughout the waveless months to come traveling. Damn Doolin.
