<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote"><strong>‘What have I done wrong?’ she asks. She has paddled towards me three times now and I have pretended I haven’t seen her, dug my paddle deep and made my way to where the waves were starting to line themselves up again after their initial wrap around the Point. </strong></p>
<p class="graf graf--p">The coast gets crowded in the summer. Lawyers and doctors with their holiday homes and surf skis. Uni students with hipster single fin malibus, waxed beards and no leg ropes. Tanned wives with black bikinis and gym bodies. Husband and wives with matching wet-suit outfits and legionnaire hats. Fathers showing off with a pair of children hauled upright as they stroke into waves, screaming at them to stand up, stand up, or pushing kids onto waves with a shout of paddle, paddle, PADDLE! Kids on boogie boards, g-boards, fresh Christmas presents of foam and fibreglass.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">In between this chaos are the retired, the old and the local surfers who know their way around a wave and have now adopted stand up paddle boarding because it keeps them in the water. Hip replacements, arthritis and cancer have slowed them down but salt water addictions keep them going. There’s the wave magnets that walk along the stretch of the beach to paddle out and immediately stroke into the best wave of the set and that no one dares drop in on. Tanned girls in ass revealing suits gracefully walk along longboards, side stepping with poetic elegance their male counterparts could never muster.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">Some talk to you, some refuse to make eye contact even though you are both out there in the same infinite space. One mother and daughter, good surfers both, have surfed out there with me for years, yet won’t talk to me. The mother drives an old classic van, posts about her red longboard on Instagram and clearly loves the sea. She doesn’t know my history here, doesn’t know I’ve been surfing this coast since I was 12, decades now, long enough to have seen change, to move from short board to long board to a stand up paddle board, where I’ve found my home. Long enough to be bonded to the same waters that sustain her too. Long enough to understand that it doesn’t matter what you ride, it’s the <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">stoke</em> you feel. It’s why people are drawn to this sport and why every craft known to the surfing world is out on the water this Australia Day weekend.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">It’s also why I love to paddle over to those who are struggling to master the craft.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">When I learnt to stand up paddle board ten years ago, paddle boarding had just began on that coast. My husband and I spent a summer with bloodied toes from kneeling on light and short home made boards with no soft foam gorilla grip, only sprinklings of castor sugar under epoxy. It’s remarkable how something so sweet can become razor sharp . My calves were decorated with purple and blue bruises from falling violently on rails. The muscles of my back ached from the unusual positioning of the spine as it moved backward in space, twists and attempts to right itself. There was only me and one other girl on a SUP that summer, and the boys who’d learnt ahead of us would call us onto waves, offering advice. Point the nose toward the cliffs, put your back into it, paddle paddle PADDLE.</p>

<figure class="graf graf--figure"><img class="graf-image" src="https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/1200/0*C481PGJ2kMvPtD4X" data-image-id="0*C481PGJ2kMvPtD4X" data-width="1000" data-height="1000" /><br/><figcaption class="imageCaption">Image by Reynzo on <a class="markup--anchor markup--figure-anchor" href="https://unsplash.com/photos/u5vx3Ke0_RM" target="_blank" rel="noopener" data-href="https://unsplash.com/photos/u5vx3Ke0_RM">Unsplash</a></figcaption></figure>
<p class="graf graf--p">And when I mastered it, the joy filled my cells and I was addicted in a way that was complete and true. For years, I’d never go back to a long board, and when I did, I’d be confused: where was my paddle? Whilst people ask how it’s possible to co-ordinate a board and something gripped in the hands, I say the paddle becomes part of you, like another limb. You’d never ask the left foot to co-ordinate with the right whilst walking — it just knows what to do.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">I’d be an utter bitch to not help others learn too.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">The woman who’d paddled up to me and plaintively asked me: ‘what have I done?’ was one of the holiday surfers. Last summer she was paddling wide, far too eastward into the bay. She was never going to get a wave where she was. I cheerily paddled over, asked if she needed a hand.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘It’s so hard!’ she said. ‘How do you do it?’. The boards wobbled underneath us, the ripples slapping the undersides. Her knees shook. ‘I only come down on weekends, we got a holiday house.’</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">Now here’s when my bias kicked in. Rich woman with rich husbands with holiday houses trigger me somewhat. It’s those kind of people I love to hate — that those local to this coast feel invaded by. We’ve seen their type buy up houses, hoot that they’ve sold their place in the city and made a <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">profit</em> from it. Enough to retire early. Driving up the house prices as the supply dwindled and the demand grew in the search for sea changes, people like her had prevented people who’d grown up on the coast ever being able to buy a place in the landscape in which they’d grown up.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">I push that to one side. I recognise the feeling. It’s jealousy. Let it go. She’s got a right to a good life like the rest of us.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘See your paddle?’ I say. ‘Put your hand on the top of the paddle, and your bottom arm, keep it straight. Now, place the paddle in the water right at the top of your board, so the shaft’s a couple of inches in.’ I demonstrate, pull the carbon fibre through the water, lift it out and do it again.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘Don’t look down. Look where you’re going.’ I’m enjoying it now. It doesn’t really matter who she is. She’s going to love it, and the <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">joy</em> she’s going to get from this transcends any irrational annoyance I have for her privilege. The next set swells and I get her facing in the right direction. ‘Keep paddling strong until the wave picks you up. Use your knees like springs — feel the bounce. When it picks you up, be ready for the drop.’</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">It takes awhile, three or four sets. I catch waves in between, paddle over to her and smile. ‘You’re doing great!’ I say. ‘So amazing!’. She begins to light up, and with this light, finally takes off, slides down the face, rides it for seconds, and falls. I paddle over, grin. ‘Hey! You did it!’.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">She’s happy. I’m happy. It’s a beautiful day out on the water.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">So why, a year later, do I throw my hands up in exasperation after she drops in on me <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">and goes straight? </em></p>

<figure class="graf graf--figure graf--layoutOutsetLeft"><div class="pull-right"><img class="graf-image alignright" src="https://cdn-images-1.medium.com/max/900/0*IBKTlPWNY0drJQUX.png" data-image-id="0*IBKTlPWNY0drJQUX.png" data-width="350" data-height="798" /></div><br/><figcaption class="imageCaption">Surfing Code of Conduct<a class="markup--anchor markup--figure-anchor" href="http://www.natyoung.com/spirit.html" target="_blank" rel="noopener" data-href="http://www.natyoung.com/spirit.html"> Image Source </a></figcaption></figure>
<p class="graf graf--p">There’s no patience this time — I shout at her to point her nose towards the cliffs, so that she moves down the line and away from me. I’m on the inside and it’s a nice wave, about two foot and clean and just picking up a steep wall that’s fun to fly around on. But I’m stuck — she is only inches away, so close I can’t dig my paddle in to stall nor can I fly off the back. To make matters worse, a guy on a surf ski is on my inside, snaking me after I stroked in and took off, so I can’t go left into the white water. I put my paddle in behind me and stall enough to let the wave pass and them with it. When she turns around to paddle back out, I throw my hands up in clear exasperation, an obvious ‘what the actual fuck’ gesture.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">So for the last hour, she’s been trying to paddle up to me to ask me why I was annoyed with her. This isn’t usual practice, by the way. Spats in the water are short, violent and then done. The moment has passed and I don’t care for nice girl chats.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘What have I done wrong? I was paddling for that wave!’ she says.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘I was on your inside, so I had right of way. You were far too close to me, and my board was going to hit you, and you were going <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">straight</em>!’ I reply.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘But I was paddling for it,’ she repeats. Is she for real? I explain that doesn’t matter, that the only thing that matters is that the person on the inside, closest to where the wave is breaking, has right of way, and that if she’s going to drop in, she has to be able to surf fast enough to be a good six foot in front of me and pull off when I catch up. I can’t believe I’m explaining this. If she’s been paddle boarding for a year, why the fuck hasn’t she figured out the rules?</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘But what was I meant to do? You were right next to me!’. By now people are watching us. It’s clear that there’s a little fracas. I’m a bit embarrassed and uncomfortable. I repeat that I had right of way, but she’s not getting it. What part of surfing etiquette had she missed?</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">It’s then when I break out the passive aggressive bitch me.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘Darling’ I drip nastily, ‘you need to learn the rules. I’m not going to stand and argue with you. It’s not rocket science.’</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">It’s actually downright dangerous paddling into a wave so close to someone like that. Not only do you risk dinging your board, you risk hurting the person next to you with the board. Surfing rules have been around for a long time for a reason. This break can invite ‘party waves’ with more than one person on them, but it’s by mutual agreement, where you nod or call people you know onto the wave with you, or you’re a good ten foot down the line and prepared to flick off when they’re getting close. Surfing etiquette will also mandate that you get off the wave if it’s a bloody good one and you’re going to ruin it for them.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">I’m bored now, making once last effort to get her to realise she’s in the wrong. ‘Just let it go, will you? You knew I was there. I had clear right of way.’ I’m speaking slowly and firmly, treating her like an idiot, a school child, yet she’s older than me. It must sting. She grimaces and paddles shoreward and I see her leave the water. I’m not sure whether she’s got it or whether she’s just given up.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">In the morning, she’s not in the water. I’m thankful, because it was awkward, and I hate confrontation. I also hate the part in me that was reactionary and cruel. Philosophically, I believe you should watch your thoughts lest they become your actions and become who you are. There I was <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">being</em> angry, frustrated and fiercely protective of the ocean that had been <em class="markup--em markup--p-em">my</em> playground for years. I don’t want to be that asshole. Everyone has a right to be in the sea.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">Practice compassion, I repeat to myself, a little mantra. Treat others how you’d like to be treated. I realise I’m more annoyed with myself than with her. I should watch my reactions.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">And when the next wannabe girl SUP’er drops in on me, eyes aglow, I grin at her, paddle over and congratulate her. She’s stoked, eyes sparkling. I give her a few pointers for getting on waves. I’m tactful as I tell her to be careful next time, because if she drops in on someone like that, people could get hurt.</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘Oh.’ she said. ‘I didn’t know — I’m sorry!’</p>
<p class="graf graf--p graf--startsWithSingleQuote">‘It’s fine!’ I smile, stroking my way away from her and into the line up. ‘Good luck on your next wave! Have fun!’</p>
<p class="graf graf--p">I suppress my inner surf bitch for a while, at least.</p> <br /><center><hr/><em>Posted from my blog with <a href='https://wordpress.org/plugins/steempress/'>SteemPress</a> : http://www.riverflowings.com/?p=226 </em><hr/></center>