Tag 57: As won, so shattered

25.08.2016

Today we have to cover a lot of kilometers, as yesterday's day has thrown us off schedule a bit (although not as much as we initially feared). We don't have any stress, as something like that would be compatible with the Australian way of life, like a Jamaican who quickly gets things done[1]. A bad comparison - let's say as compatible as warm beer. Nevertheless, we have to return our car on Friday - and Sydney is still several hundred kilometers away. So we skip the tour to the Amsterdam of Australia, which was recommended during the party, and take the direct route to the supposed capital of the continent. In case you didn't know, Canberra - only the eighth largest city in Australia - actually calls itself that.

Enough of the smart talk, the essence of it all is that we have to step on the gas pedal of our campervan. Our faithful vehicle is slowly falling apart, as I can now feel before I see it when a truck overtakes me on the driver's side. The air pressure is too high, pushing the vehicle to the side, and the body is not sealed properly, so I am regularly warned by a real gust of wind before upcoming maneuvers.

Despite our constant running, I treat myself to a detour to one of the lesser-known bays on the coast, which promises particularly exciting waves today. When I arrive at Boomerang Beach, I am somewhat disappointed because the conditions are challenging but interesting, but the number of surfers is close to zero. Being alone makes me skeptical, as I cannot know the local conditions, currents, or reef characteristics. However, an inner urge pulls me into the water, and an external effect - the waves crashing in a seven-second period[2] - goes against my intentions. But I apply my newly learned Donald Duck skill and dive through the waves like a duck. The result is impressive, as I actually appear in the lineup after a few minutes, exhausted but alive.

However, there I quickly notice the danger of the territory. The currents are so strong that I risk being swept out to sea, which is not a very tempting thought when you're all alone in the open sea. In the end, even in the cold water, this is a bit too hot for me (17° - nipple length now measurable in centimeters), so I only use the fantastic wave formations to quickly reach the shore. I can reassure concerned family members: when the realization that I can still write this article myself replaces the concern that I might engage in this sport again - my board decides to go on a treasure hunt in the sand and not only buries itself but also breaks in the process. The painful certainty remains that I managed to destroy my first surfboard in less than a week, which is a remarkably short duration even for me when it comes to handling (expensive) objects.

Gudi, who observed me from the beach, is initially relieved that I'm still standing. Later, this relief turns into a scolding, as she apparently had quite (unjustified) concerns about me staying in the water.

Even though this story may sound dramatic, it should be emphasized that I always had the situation under control and therefore ended my experience in time.

A few dead kangaroos later, we are just outside Sydney and are looking forward to spending tomorrow surrounded by skyscrapers in the hustle and bustle of the city.

Gudi's glorious laws of self-protection:

Denial of reality leads to nothing happening.

So she prefers to hide in the camper and cover her head with a blanket rather than watch her own boyfriend on the beach engaging in some daring maneuvers.

[1] Sometimes I can't help but laugh at my own comparisons - I mean Bob Marley and not Usain Bold - the sprint god, who takes his time with things.

[2] Waves every seven seconds, not easy conditions.