Rough Neck

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I didn’t kill that roo. It was already gone not long before I got there.


The Bar

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I got a spearmint thickshake with malt. I watched Manta Rays feed in their circular motions on the bar as lightning stuck the ridges behind Pambula.  It was a grey, still and wonderful scene.


Turtle Head

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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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I found a beautiful empty wineglass shaped strip of sand. I couldn’t swim because I had just had a Ghostbuster tattoo inked on my calf.

Bill Fucking Murray’s laconic face with a script saying ‘Busting Makes Me Feel Good’.  I’m pleased with the tattoo. It has no deep meaning or story attached to it. It’s just a stupid, poorly thought out idea I followed through with.

Just like this trip I’m on.

I love it.

Grey Guts

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It was spitting down all day. Spitting on all the families who had loaded up the campers and headed to the coast for the end of the holidays. Spitting on the windscreen as I rolled through town after town. Spitting on my arm hanging out the window as I turned down another coastal road.

It was muggy as hell. I felt a greasy slick on my skin. Driving makes me irritable. After a few hours I’m a hazzard.

I found a place to camp for the night. The spit turned to a shower and then a downpour. I swam in a grey looking ocean to clean up. To clear my head. The water was like ice on my skin but the surface of the water was glassy and calm. I grabbed handfuls of sand and scrubbed the dirty greasy feeling from my skin.  Afterwards I bodysurfed into a few small waves in the shorebreak. A good way to end the day.

It rained for two more days and I was never dry. The car began to stink of damp. It was a bit of a downer.

It’d be sunny soon enough. Sure.

There’d be better times ahead. Of course.

And it was, and there were. And so on…