Turtle Head

1.22BawleyPt-1 1.22BawleyPt-2 1.22BawleyPt-3 1.22BawleyPt-5 1.22BawleyPt-6 1.22BawleyPt-8 1.22BawleyPt-10 1.22BawleyPt-11

 

I got to reduce my resolution size. This laptop aint hacking it no more. No more. No more.

I scored at Bawley. I got it clean and at a spot called Number Two’s. It was a fun surf.

Years ago, the last time I surfed it, not so fun. I got a beating out there on a nasty grey day. I remember a thick wall standing up out of nowhere. It stood tall for what seemed an impossible time. The lip feathering and lurching forward. It dared me to try scrape under it as it drained the water from the reef, growing thicker, steeper and darker.

I tried.

The thick lip broke a foot from my face. There was only a few feet of water between the lip and the reef. There was no diving under it. Fucking ragdolled. Bouncing off the reef, flipping blindly. It let me go when it dispersed in the black channel.

That was while back now.

So Ceasar came down the day after my fun surf but the wind came up. Salad mate and I walked around the town, around all the beautiful beaches. Afterwards he went back to the city. I went south.

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