World Tour of Surfing (sort of)

My mate Dave was back in his native Queensland for a wee holiday last summer. He treated me one day by driving me up to the Sunshine Coast from Brisbane. There he rented us a couple of surfboards. Next he gave me a few lessons. Brilliant it was! I had never surfed before in all my entire life. Sad, eh?

With our board-shorts on (plus our T-shirts as sun and surfboard protection) and with our waxed-up (rented) boards we were headed for the beach. The sun-baked tar and concrete scalded our bare feet as we rapidly tip-toed across it. We then rushed from one shaded part of the road to another. Scarpering across a hot frying pan (with bacon, egg, square sausauge, black-pudding, tattie scones etc. in it) springs to mind. What a comical sight!

Having made it to the beach, first we were to practice on the hot dry sand. Dave showed me how to get on the board with a quick flip. Onlookers suitably entertained by our antics, next, it was all King Canute stuff. We waited for what we thought was a break in the breakers and with a Highlander Charge (blood curdling cries included!) we went for it. The onslaught of the waves beat us back many times, but we pressed on regardless, eventually winning the day!

As we slowly but surely swam out to sea I had to learn very quickly how to dodge my board which, even though tied to my ankle by a rope, by the able assistance of the breakers kept on insisting on trying to crack me about the head! But I've had worse on the school playground!

I was up on the board, yes, a wee bit shoogly, but I conquered those bone-cracking waves! Yes! I felt as proud as a twelve-pointer stag as I headed back to the shore line. I sat on the hot golden sand patting myself on the back while watching Dave ride the crest of wave after wave.

Dave then treated me to lunch where I devoured the best Aussie pie I've ever tasted while we discected blow by blow our great victory over the raging Pacific. Indeed, we had turned its raging anger against it and placed our feet on its neck!

I'm sorry to say that none of this was caught on film, (therefore, Dave can tell you his own version of events!)

However, if you don't mind shoogly camera-work, I did manage to video some surfers on a Tasmanian beach. I suppose I should let you know that I fairly recently arrived back in Queensland after living in Tasmania for close to five years: