======== Newsgroups: alt.surfing Subject: D.J.Files..bits of a saurfing life #44 Monster from the Deep (Fry) - djkrfish.44 [1/1] From: dp025@seqeb.gov.au (Bear) Date: 28 Oct 1996 01:12:44 GMT Disclaimer : the 'Files are fiction, often based on actual events. The D.J.Files #44 Monster from the Deep (fry) Krakatoa has lived on the Gold Coast for over 20 years. He has never been attacked, or even seriously leered at, by a shark. However.... Surfing at Ogmore river mouth was an occasional thing. You had to have the right amount of swell, glassy or offshore conditions, etc. You also had to give a (false?) name and address to the boys-in-blue, who were religiously informed of your presence in the briny, by an old lady who lived overlooking the spot. And who knew there was a large NO SWIMMING sign there. No amount of explanation/protestation could get the point over re: the subtle difference between 'actual' swimming and mere retrieval of lost board. On a classic evening, the handful of guys have had a mid-tide wave at Southerndown, realised it was an Ogmore-type day and buzzed around in the cars to find nice 3-4' faces peeling into the river. The sun is quite low, but takes ages to go down on an August evening. Mist is forming out to sea and the sunset hues are being water-color smudged around the horizon. They all paddle out into the cool, but certainly not cold, water. The waves are a bit slow, but well-shaped and everyone gets a few rides. As the sun fades into the mist, as opposed to setting in a tidy fashion as it's supposed to according to most surf movies, the guys begin to paddle back in. Last out will be Krak', who has that one last backhand slide on a wave which just fades away. Everyone is thinking up a new name to give the nice policeman, who's coming down the hill (you couldn't do this now, with all these damned computers, eh?). Suddenly, there is a loud cry of fear from the water. Krakatoa's splashing about like a mad fool out there. Shouting "Shark!" and other overly-alarmist comments. Now those of you from either: tropical places with nice mean, small sharks and other creatures of doom; or cool-water spots where the great whites lurk, would be thinking "Oh no!" or something similar. But on this stretch of coastline, stepping on flatfish is a _major_ environmental event. So you'll forgive the crew for falling apart at this point. In fact, it's a good job they are still drying off and have not yet put on their dry underwear, such is the level of their mirth. Meanwhile, Krak' continues his act for some seconds...it seems like ages to him of course. Then it goes quiet and he's back paddling. The cop is wondering why we are spluttering and giggling and is inclined to be less lenient than usual, but we manage to get it together. We supply a not-too-far-fetched name for Krak and the cop closes the notebook and heads off, as Krak' reaches the group. I don't remember the words, but as soon as they begin to spill from his face, the guys are doubling up again and holding their stomachs. But amazingly, Krak _does_ have teeth marks around his wrist. Quite clear. Someone (who fishes) says it might have been a cod, which kicks off a whole new wet-yourself-laughing episode among the crew. You know how it is once you've been kick-started into _that_ level of hilarity, eh? Krakatoa has _never_ lived this incident down btw. :-) *** -- Bear