into the wave

Surfing at Fistral Beach

Yesterday, I surfed the waves at the classic Fistral Beach, south of Newquay here in Cornwall. What became immediately clear to me was that I raised the average age among the surfers around me by at least 3.5 decades. Which was totally fine since it turned out that I still caught the most waves with my 9ft longboard. At the doorstep of 60, anything shorter and it would probably not have been nearly as fun yesterday.

After a few intense hours in the Atlantic, knee and arm exhaustion inevitably set in. A bit hard of hearing from all the water in my ears, but euphorically happy, I finally gave up and staggered up the beach with the board firmly clutched under my right arm. After maneuvering through what seemed like hundreds of English holiday-making families with their colorful tents, fluttering windbreakers, and shrieking kids, I finally reached the surf shop. At that point, I was so physically depleted, that it felt like I needed a defibrillator. I settled for an ice-cold beer instead.

Like a Houdini, I eventually wriggled out of the waterlogged wetsuit and promised myself that after this trip, I’ll only surf in warmer latitudes. Today, I’ll head for the waves at Watergate Bay.

Today would have been Brother Tyko’s 56th birthday. I’ve created a memorial page for him here.