Meanderlight Photography

With a few hours study behind me and the rest of the day free I thought I’d try something new, aka stupid.

So along with my camera kit I also packed a spangly new bodyboard and headed for Porthleven. On the basis that the waves were small and having spent many, many hours photographing others who made it look so effortless. How hard can it be, I ignorantly thought as I watched an expert at play.

Wetsuit on, inappropriate fins on, with acres of enthusiasm in I jumped. Perhaps with a pier wall on one side and a rock strewn sea floor I could’ve chosen a more sensible place for my first bodyboarding experience in 30 years.

Don’t those small waves now look big!!, I never read the instructions, how do I get the bloody thing to dive under the oncoming wave, just before the expensive red piece of foam smacks me in the face. After shaking off the face slap and more panic paddling I’m out beyond the breaking surf.

After some watery fumbling I’m somehow now on top of a wave, I need to go left away from the pier wall, those damn instructions, how do I steer? I seem to have dropped and left my stomach behind and am picking up speed, I’m in the midst of a salty spin cycle and well and truly petrified.

I want to get off, my subconscious screams, shortly followed by my conscious as I realised that the rocks are approaching with a great deal of haste and I’m running out of water, instructions again, where are the brakes? All I can thing of doing is sliding off the side of the board, into a mass of white water as I tumble, bang, my shoulder hits the first of the rocks, later followed by the rest of my body. I try to come up for air just as the next wave cartwheels me some more. Eventually I see the sign saying UP and right myself just in time for the next breaker, sod this board I just let it go and dive under the wave, feeling the board tug at my wrist, an impatient dog.

A beached whale would have shown more finesse in the shallows and it was with a sense of relief that I got back out into deeper water. It has to be easier the second time I foolishly comforted myself, as I professionally bobbed for five minutes to bring the heart rate back to something approaching normality. I did look very cool bobbing, I told myself.

The second time was indeed different, I was more scared, this time knowing it would hurt when I hit those rocks. How did I manage it again!!, I mused as I looked at my bleeding hands and arm before another wave cut short my self flagellation. With my totally un-bodyboard like method of getting through the waves, diving through them, towing the board behind me with its constant nagging pull I again made it out into deeper water. Ten minutes rest this time, perhaps longer, in fact it may have been two hours for all I know.

Well I’ve have to do it one more time, if for no other reason I need to get washed up on those rocks to get out of the water. I won’t bore you with the fear, the extra cuts and bruises, but I will just mention the new addition, I lost a fin, one second it was there bobbing next to me, then gone. That was my que to stand up and get out, yes stand up when you’ve just been cartwheeling, out of breath and wearing one fin, who was I kidding.

I lay Robinson Crusoe like on the rocks looking out to sea, hadn’t those waves got small again I thought as the bright red splashes dripped dripped on the bright yellow of my one remaining fin.

An hour or so later, I stare at my dented and battered board, the single useless fin and am feeling every aching part of my body, so I comfort myself with a coffee and my camera. Safety at last as I sit looking out at the calm tranquil sea.

Opposite a couple, looking less than impressed, having seen it all before.

Mark