Let me preface this by saying that I don’t hold it against you. You weren’t to know the lengths I would go to in your service. Or the trouble it could get me into.
You see, you are always in my thoughts. Even when I’m not posting much on here there is always a bundle of blog posts bumping around in my head. I live my life at a slight remove. There is what is happening now and there is a simulcast which is converting the ‘now’ into blog fodder.
Mostly I think I have it under control (as every addict ever has always said.) But when it drags me into physical danger I have to recognize that maybe I have let it go a tad too far.
It was a hot and sunny day at Salinas beach and the waves were small and perfect. I wasted no time in getting my wetsuit on and paddling out back on my surfboard. As I lay on the board, squinting into the sun and waiting for a wave I started composing a blog post.
Salinas is a great, epically long, sandy beach just 15 minutes drive from Asturias airport. Popular with surfers, it hosts the annual Vans Longboard Festival. A town beach that comfortably absorbs the throngs, it boasts some awesome seafront bars and restaurants with some pretty funky architecture. There’s the coastal path to mention too, with its impressive cliff top anchor museum and bronze bust of Philippe Cousteau perched atop a sea-washed slab.
As I idly wondered how best to describe the fabulous white mansion I had walked past on my way to the water….Art Deco? Modernist?…..I snapped back to attention when I realized that said house was no longer directly in front of me. In fact it was a good hundred metres off to my left. S#@t!!! I had been drifting on a current.
The nearest surfers were also now about a hundred metres from me. And closer in to shore than I. No wonder no waves were breaking. I was past the break zone and drifting further out to sea.
And so I began to paddle. Eyes fixed on those nearest surfers, I cut out at an angle and I paddled and I paddled. Back arched, head up, I pushed my arms deep through the water stroke after stroke.
Eventually, I found myself back over by the cluster of surfers. My adrenal glands relaxed a smidgeon. But I didn’t stop paddling. I lined my board up to the shore and I paddled until I caught the next wave all the way in.
As I bent to undo my leash from my ankle (and surreptitiously caress terra firma as I struggled to capture my breath) I heard Richie’s voice. He’d seen my predicament from the beach and had been observing my panicky progress, keeping one eye on the lifeguards in case it looked like external assistance would be required. ‘The waves look great though. You should go back out. Just remember to watch your position.’ ‘You’re alright. I think I’ll just have a lay down and a read of the paper.’ And with that, I scurried off to my beach towel.
It is a great beach though. Don’t let the actions of one idiot put you off going. And always remember, whenever you’re in the sea: stay alert, follow the advice of the lifeguards and respect the flagged zones.