Surfing under a silver sky
I was already bone-tired from a surf in the morning, but somehow, the ocean did that thing where it calls you even though you should be driving home for dinner after work. I turned the corner, where all of a sudden the ocean opens up before you - and immediately knew. I saw only a glimpse of a surfer’s turn, but the golden light on the water, the spray from the board, a dark figure, and I didn’t have to question.
Within 3 minutes, I had my wetsuit half on and was running down the stairs, knowing every minute was a minute closer to darkness. Skipping and hopping over sharp volcanic rock, familiar with each one, every footfall by memory. Paddling out, straight into the glowing orange path of the light of the setting sun, leading to the wave that I’ve fallen in love with.
I arrived at the line-up, the last glimpse of the sun disappeared below the horizon. My first wave, light offshore, dark sky with hints of orange remaining, It flew. That speed. That line. Feeling my board lock into the exact right place for the lip to pitch over my head into a barrel. I just kept flying. Out and then through the next section and then again into the black wave face, shadowed by the wave itself.
There were four of us out under the crystal clear night sky, and I turned to someone and said something about how I wish we could stay out all night. He commented about that night’s super moon - I had forgotten entirely. We turned our backs briefly from the last bit of dark orange on the horizon to the familiar cliff behind us. It was dark there until the largest moon of the year grew, little by little, its white light emerging from the other side of the horizon.
My next wave shimmered in the silver-white moonlight, the wave face fully exposed to a moon embracing the sky. We surfed speedily along in the quiet night, racing over the rocks made invisible by the darkness. Risk and beauty dancing together under the night sky.
One by one, surfers paddled toward home, but I had to stay. Immersed in the beauty that leaves me speechless, too big to understand. Finally, I turned to paddle the ten minutes or so back to where I entered the sea. I put my head down and watched the nose of my board move through the water, following a silver path leading precisely to the exit point between the rocks, illuminated by the moon. And I was reminded: this is what pure joy feels like.
