Positive Charge...

It might be a load of old cobblers, but I remember reading a few years ago that the breaking surf charged the air with positive ions and this was one of the many reasons that humans feel happy and contented by the sea... cobblers or not, it was certainly the case today.

I had driven to North Fistral just before dark last night and although the surf was small you could see the perfect bank that had formed in the middle of Little Fistral, which when struck by the perfect little waist high waves would real off seamlessly toward the rocks... I thought to myself, if it stays offshore that will be amazing when the swell picks up tomorrow.

I keep doing this... forgetting my current situation. Maybe it's my brain just taking a break by wandering off into denial, but I swear that given the chance and especially when I'm in the bounce back phase and don't feel as rough, I have a habit of forgetting all about it and thinking as I would before any of this ever happened.

Truth is, I can't go in the water right now, no matter how much I want too. The risk of infection and the two open wounds in my torso that carry my lines simply would not allow for this to happen with out serious repercussions... so for the next three months at lest, I'm landlocked!

I think it was at the very beginning of this blog that i wrote about how easy it was to push everything to one side when facing a situation such as a cancer diagnosis. It seems that as the dust has settled and the treatment is now half way through with strong results that I have started to glimps an end to all this, and see flashes of a life that lies beyond the treatment.

This was very apparent today, as I stood on the rocks as Little Fistral I felt like a super charged coiled spring. The excitement boiling inside me as the perfect head high waves broke across this perfect sand bar with the water lit up like chrome in the icy 4 o'clock winter sun. I was standing there like a one man football crowd cheering to myself insanely as each rubberized silhouette scratched into a wave and set a line and either emerged from the icy backlit barrel unscathed or was slammed into the ocean floor.

I had brought my camera down with me to see if I could capture any of this. I don't really know too much about photography, but I remember being told that one of the best zoom lenses is your feet. Meaning, why zoom in and out with a lens when you can just walk closer? This is true of most of the situations a "point and shoot" amature like myself will find themselves in, but for good surfing photography getting close to subject means one thing I don't have... a big telephoto lens. Anyways, not to worry. I scrabble past the dudes with the massive lenses perched further up the rocks and gingerly make my way down across the diagonal slate rock formations with the intention of getting as close to the line up as possible. I'm almost down to sea level when I decide that's far enough, I've almost slipped on my ass twice and two days ago I couldn't even get out of bed... this was close enough. I few sets roll in and I get a couple shots, realizing quickly that I'm still too far away and the baltic windchill is eating away at my knuckles, so I start the "rock dance" back to the van.

So the photos are nothing astounding, but it was so worth heading out here. I leave feeling re-charged, buzzing with positivity and thoughts of Summer time, and about being well again... positive ions?... maybe.