remnants on waking
It is at night. I am out surfing, in a big swell along the side of a man-made rocky pier, large black waves are breaking beyond the end of the groyne. I can’t even see them till they are breaking. There are four of us out altogether, one using a rope to hold against the current and to stay closer to the pier. The three of us paddle madly to stay in position, and scrabble to avoid occasional great set waves, breaking wide. Largely we don’t avoid them, just getting done, time after time. No one is catching any thing, we are all just crazily paddling. It is black except for the pier lights making the white breaking crests suddenly visible, black on grey-black, shinyblack, mattblack, mudblack. All the while the worrying closeness of the rocks. After a while I hear myself ‘why are we here, this is just a badidea?’ and then realise that to go in to shore without getting smudged on the rocks will take a big effort. Luck too.