In defence of the Great White by Samuel Carmody
My father introduced me to surfing when I was seven or eight years old, carrying me into the beach breaks off my childhood town of Geraldton, West Australia, whilst I lay on my foam board, terrified of a small sea that had then seemed huge, crying like a newborn being introduced to another bewildering world.
“You’re trying to kill me,” were the words I’d bleated, over and over. I remember that moment clearer than any other memory I have. The whiteout of the afternoon summer sky, the water torn by the sea-breeze. I remember the scream of that wind in my ears. And I remember most vividly the pure, potent anxiety I felt, the recognition that I was entering a space so much bigger than myself, bigger and more powerful even than my father had seemed to me all those years ago…
Read on here at the ABC Drum