It Counts As Surfing

Let me just say right up front that I was in no danger of drowning. Maybe I found myself in a bit of quandary, but given enough time, I'd have sorted it out myself no problem. But, a real man knows there's no shame in asking for help.

With the afternoon free, I decided to try Manly Beach, the second of the two famous beaches of Sydney, the first being Bondi. But, rather than going alone, I invited a couple from Holland staying in my hostel room to come with me. I was up and ready to go by 1:30, but thanks to my new friends, we got out the door at about 3.

We gave up waiting for the bus at 3:30. Good ol' Sydney Public Transport.

Instead, we boarded a train to the harbor, which was only 25 minutes delayed. Between the bus and the train, we could've walked to the harbor and back atleast once. Good ol' Sydney Public Transport.

We arrived at around 5, in the drizzling rain and blustery winds. Both the surfboard and snorkel rental shops had closed their doors moments before, so it seemed the whole trip was wasted. However, I was determined to at least swim in the ice cold testicle-destroying seawater. I challenged the man of the couple to come swimming with me, but he chickened out after toeing the water. Not me. I had set a goal for myself, and I was going to be the bigger man... and upon reaching the water, be the much much smaller man. I swear my balls had seeked sanctuary nestled in my warm intestines.

The waves were not gentle on this windy rainy day. As I walked further into the surf, they pounded me harder and harder, and I just stood my ground, holding up my arms and grunting through the onslaught like Beowulf.

But, when the water reached about chest height, my center of gravity, the waves basically knocked me on my ass, over and over again. No macho man here.

Anyway, as I walked along the coast, I noticed I reached a patch where the waves were subdued. White foam frothed on either side of me, but in front of me, calm little swells bobbed me up and down. Taking advantage of the relief, I walked out further, until it was deep enough that I couldnt stand anymore. I swam slowly into the ocean.

When I turned around, moments later, I realized the furthest surfer from shore was still well behind me. Did I black out and not remember swimming this far? Well, either way, it was too far. Time to head back. I turn and swam. Dont know for how long, dont remember how far, but the shore didnt seem to be getting any closer. Frankly, I'm a crap swimmer and I know it. So I settled in for the long haul.

Attempting to ride in the waves, along with muscle-numbing effort of swimming, I finally reached where I could feel the sand with my toes. The beach was a pretty gentle slope, so I was still far enough that my friends couldnt see me, but I figured it was smooth sailing from here. I began to walk.

Imagine for a moment if you were on a treadmill, but had no idea. Imagine the frustration when every step actually brought you further back than the one before. A few minutes of fruitless effort, and it began to dawn on me, just as a big wave smashed me on the head and knocked me off my feet. I came up for air, and realized I was now even further, and couldnt feel the floor again. Yep, I'm officially stuck in a rip current and cant get back.

Funny though, I went in the water at 6pm, exactly when the lifeguards went off duty. Surfers paddle around me, but avoid the rip. My friends cant see me. An unknown time swimming against the strong current has left me exhausted. I can tread water easily enough, but I'm going nowhere fast and the sun is starting to set. Fuck.

As luck had it, a surfer chick happened to coast by right near me. Considering its probably a good idea to be polite to someone about to rescue you, I held my head above water, and said "Excuse me, can you lend me a hand? I dont seem to be getting to shore anytime soon." This is the proof that I was never in any danger of drowning. I might as well have been asking for some Grey Poupon!

She told me to grab onto her board, and we began to swim back to shore, where upon she explained in polite language to match my own how much of a dumb fuck I was. She also said we needed to kick to get to shore, but I noticed despite the 'we', I was the only one kicking. The bitch!

But, I digress. She was actually a very pleasant young woman, and I owe her some gratitude, even if I was perfectly ok on my own. We both clung to the board as the swells shoved us towards shore. As we got closer, they even began to curl and break over us. But rode them we did, all the way until I really could walk back. I, my friends, had honest-to-god surfed, at one of the most famous surf beaches in the world. And all I had to do was not nearly drown.