Start: Annascaul
End: Annascaul
This morning’s first order of business? Laundry.
Long overdue laundry. Nathan was
relegated to the bed by the lack-of-clothing, while I ran around sporting my
finest towel-and-coat combo, so that all
the things could get clean. Once they were (such luxury!) we headed down the
way to the somewhat famous South Pole Inn for some fortifying lunch. It was not quite open, so we meandered down
the street towards a pottery studio I’d spotted on the way in, and found to our
delight that it was Exactly Our Aesthetic, which means we are now the proud
owners of two beautiful hand-thrown mugs for drinking tea from, and one lovely
and tiny plate with three fish painted on it (I just… needed it). After lunch we drove around until we found
Annascaul Lake, and spent a while there getting in some photography before my
3pm surfing lesson (it’s been over a year since I last surfed- I am not too
proud for a refresher course).
 |
| Nathan keeps insisting this looks like "Lynch" |
Nathan dropped me off at the Kingdom Waves truck
on Inch Beach, then dashed off to climb a mountain that had been beckoning/thwarting him
since our arrival. I made fast friends
with my instructor, Tom, who ran me through the basics quick-as-can-be before getting me out
in the water.
I’d been worried about my ability to pop up, in
light of my still-not-100% ankle, but as it turned out the popping up was fine-
what was less fine was something I’d not even considered: coming down off the
board. Falling off into deep water is
fine, but stepping off onto the sand in shallow water can be quite jarring-
which meant that after the initial experience I made some seriously awkward
moves trying to avoid jarring my right ankle.
I’m sure Tom thought I was insane as
I fish-flopped this way and that...
It was good to have a private lesson- I got some
pointers on a better position for my hands, and that I need to be further back
on the board than I think I do, as well as a tip on how to turn my board by
repositioning my feet (I’ve always relied on shifting weight). I’m always a little shy when I surf with
other people, since most of what I’ve learned I’ve learned by doing it over and
over again until I get it right(ish)- and I’m always a little afraid I’m doing
it wrong. I don’t have that fear when
I’m alone- I figure as long as I’m having fun I’m doing it just fine. But once other people are watching me, I have
this vague fear I look like a complete kook.
Now, I am fully aware of the fact that I was
paying Tom to be in the water with me, and it is entirely probable that he was
blowing salty sunshine up my ass, but he said
I had a lot of raw potential in my form and movement, and that if I’d get in
the water more often I’d improve really quickly (“You have to get back in,
Jenny O!” he exclaimed when I told him I used to surf once a week, but that it
just… hasn’t happened lately.) Anyway it
made me feel good that I’m not completely hopeless, and I’m choosing to believe
him.
All of that aside, it was just soothing to my soul
to get back in the water again. I’m
never happier than when I am in the ocean, and there had been a certain quiet
misery at having not-surfed for so long.
As I once tried to explain it to Nathan: it’s like my church. It’s where I find peace with the Powers that
Be. We’ve discussed the fact that next
year we need to get me out to the coast more often. We just have to make it happen.
Anyway, about an hour into being in the water, I
felt something in my ankle shift, and not in a good way (felt like tendon
slipping over bone and back again).
Although I still had another hour due me, I made the Adult Decision to
get out before I janked it up even further.
I explained this to Tom, who was very gracious about the whole thing,
and appropriately impressed with the story of How it Happened. I showed him the difference in my ankles when
we got back on land and he let out a mild Irish epithet and agreed that it was
smart for me not to push it at this stage of recovery (it’s been a month, and
although it’s gotten a lot better, I’m still probably a month or two away from
100%).
Nathan, of course, was not due to come pick me up
for another hour, so after struggling out of my rented wetsuit (and impressing
the guys with my mad towel-skillz) I stumped back up to Sammy’s, elevated the
ankle, and drew for a while. By the time
Nathan showed up (smug because he’d finally found his way to the top of the
mountain), I was more than ready for some Bailey’s-fortified hot
chocolate. Nathan had the same, and we
went completely nuts and had dessert while we were at it, thereby making it the
kind of dinner our young nieces and nephews might fantasize about.
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