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THE SURF RIDER

The beach stretches from horizon to horizon, shimmering in the heat, deserted but for the sandpipers scurrying about their business and the crabs burrowing into the wet sand sandwiched between dry sand and surf. Wave after wave rises high, then curls and crashes into a maelstrom of restless foam, spending itself on the vast expanse of beach.

A lone figure dots a rising breaker.

Bending forward, legs apart, sun-toasted body glistening golden brown, he emerges from the watery tunnel. A swirl of luminous turquoise, foam-tipped, propels him forward, hydroplaning on a platform of fibre glass, guided by a skeg. His arms akimbo give him perfect balance. Exhilarated by power, skill and danger, he stretches forward, willing himself to go faster, face aglow with triumph.

The wave towers above him, curls around him in the thunder of crashing water. Inside the tube he is safe, free and alive. His ride is effortless, driven by the energy of the rolling sea. Beside him in the rising arc, the shadow of a speeding dolphin reassures him that he is not alone, a living creature sharing the ecstasy of his moment.

The sun smiles down on him from a cloudless sky.

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