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Newsgroups: alt.surfing
Subject: D.J.Files...bits of surfing life  #34 cool - djcccool.34 [1/1]
From: dp025@seqeb.gov.au (Bear)
Date: 20 Oct 1996 08:56:31 GMT

    
    Disclaimer:  Altho based on reality, names and the bodies they inhabit
                 are substantially altered.

                    The D.J.Files #34

    "White Water"
                   It's cool. Well, that's what we'd say in Oz, with that
 wonderful way of understatement we have. But by anyone's measurement, it's
 bloody cold. In fact there are blizzard conditions prevalent across a very
 considerable portion of the U.K. In fact, Rave, Poser, Andy and no doubt
 many others are snowed in. Can't get to work. In their separate little
 isolation, Rave has a snowball fight with some of the neighbors (adults
 only!...the kids are walking-and-falling-over distance from school)
 then they all go to the pub; Poser builds a small igloo in his back yard
 and his wife takes fotos of him in it; Andy just puts his headphones on and
 lives in stereo land for a few days. But they all get to see the T.V. news
 ...and weep.
      U.K. never had "News Cruisers" cars and "Eye-in-the-Sky" choppers, like
 us folk in the ex-colonies. But some cameraman must have hitched a ride on
 an air-sea rescue chopper. And there in living...gray, actually, since the
 blizzard conditions bleach God's colorscheme considerably, is a fair-sized
 freighter, stuck in the Bristol Channel on a sandbar. Hands up all those
 "soul surfer" types who, whenever confronted with war, famine, disaster etc.
 on a TV news item....check the surf in the background. Yeah, I thought so.
      In various homes around the south-west of the U.K., surfers like Andy,
 Poser, Rave and others all groaned in frustration as they watched what
 appeared to be overhead, clean waves peel along the side of the vessel.
 They just knew their locals breaks were firing...and totally inaccessible.
      However...
                Malt brought the kombi slowly amd gingerly down the sloping
 bitumen toward the little 'T' junction. Tap the breaks lightly. Again. Shit,
 she's starting to slide! But the vehicle slithers to a stop, with no impact.
 Not so D.J., who has side-slipped the van right into the side wall of the
 little stone bridge. Ah, no worries, just a few dents. He's out and leaning
 against the open door. They say "Hi" to one another and immediately the T.V.
 item is mentioned by one or the other. They have to get to those waves!!
      Between them and the waves is a small, probably ex-glacial (and feeling
 very much at home today!) valley, with about 1.5km of totally snowed in road.
 The beach is well out of sight around the curve of it. The snow on the road
 they judge to be at least waist high - probably more in places. There's just
 no way to get down there. Aaargh! They have a smoke. Snow is falling lightly
 and everything is that weird quiet that only those familiar with such weather
 will know. Except for the sound of the rushing stream beneath the little
 stone bridge. Ping!, D.J.'s brain engages and he looks over the parapet at
 the water flowing below. He looks at the Malt and words are superfluous.
     Minutes later the two wetsuited figures clamber down the snowy bank and
 flop onto their boards into the icy water. A couple of minutes free ride
 later they slither over a min-waterfall and they're on the beach. Sure enough
 the surf is peeling along the boulder-strewn shelf. Pure glass. Head-high.
 There's a small sand strip for them to paddle out from. They do so. Sitting
 in the line-up, Malt says how totally weird it all looks: no-one about, no
 cars, everything rock black or snow white.
     Wave after wave of smooth easy take-offs (very handy when you're in
 neoprene from head to foot) and a long wall to play with. Their first few
 waves are taken very easily, with no flash stuff. But they get more and more
 confident with it, tightening up their turns and pulling more cutbacks. By
 the time he's on about his 4th or 5th wave, D.J. is all over em. You'da
 thought he was out ripping Burleigh apart on a warm Oz February day, not a
 freezing cold Welsh one. Except that all that neoprene and the falling white
 flakes were a dead giveaway. 
     "Not much of a crowd, considering how good it was!",said D.J.,grinning.

     It was a real pain getting back to the cars tho! At least Malt only
 lived a couple of km away, with a hot shower waiting for them. D.J. was cut
 off trying to drive home. A full van and nowhere to go. Aw shucks. He thought
 he might have to crash at Malt's, but there was this nice barmaid...

   
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Bear