Remember the bliss of riding a wave, a long uncrowded wave on some lonesome stretch of coastline?
Now we have this.
pic lifted from aquabumps .. ta Uge
Followed by coffee and a chat about times long past. So I’m directing this post at the old Bondi codgers who were there back in the day and like me, sometimes think the old stoke is gone forever. It’s all killer barrels and mechanised surf these days, that and beaches crowded to despair. The art seems to have been subsumed.
Well, maybe … but have a quiz at this bloke and tell me you don’t want to be doing it yourself.. I could watch all day.
He shook the entire row with his uncontrolled shuddering as John McLaughlin sprayed us with his machine gun riffs and Billy Cobham jungled up every drum on his stand.
Every day, day after day, onshore and off, good and bad .. Bondi ... just like he's looking out of his bedroom window at the real thing, because it is the real thing.
Sometimes it takes a wife of over fifty five tears to remind a man of a fellow he once met and have forgotten since
everybody’s blood but theirs
The beach is deserted but for us. The three of us. Him, her and me.
silver bream and clear water
The new owners have moved in
April 2, 2022.
I watched a set of fifteen foot mud brown barrelling rights breaking half a mile off Ballina North Wall this afternoon all unworried by the trails of distant boardriders and glistening strangely in the afternoon sun, too heavy with silt to blow out a spume as their concaves collapsed to then wash up on the beach almost spent only to disturb the opalescent scrimmage of thousands of black carrion flies feasting on the swollen carcass of a drowned calf.