Sick’n tired of city livin’? Carrying on like a little bitch about work? Here’s a tale and vid about regular surfers escaping for the w/e.

“Fuck my life” was the whisper like cry leaking from my mouth.

The virtual buoys read like lotto numbers in a game I wouldn’t win. I was at the mercy of a fast pace work schedule that clashed with the forecasted new swell like feuding brother and sister. Potentially to be one of the first true ocean events of the year, and having suffered months of Spring-like mediocrity, anything overhead with an offshore would be classed as all-time.

‘Click’, the swift press of the mouse deleted the juicy buoy data from my view, it’d only encourage the ‘fuck my life’ sulk anyway.

“You know I’m always like Dane [Reynolds] this and Dane that right? Well now I’m Kelly [Slater] this and Kelly that. I get it now, I’ve seen it”.

I could see the froth coming out of Dylan’s mouth. Kelly and Taj [Burrow] had put on a show at a nearby notorious reef during the week, it was a highlight of the swell and Dylan had scored it, along with the superheroes.

“I know Kelly was what you guys grew up on, but I just never saw it like you guys did. But this week I did, I get it now.”

Wylie and I, a generation above Dylan, just sat there sipping our moderately gay cappuccinos, wanting to know but not wanting hear it.

“He had this ridiculous ability to go slower than everyone else, like Matthews was by far the best out there, then Kelly turned up and just made it look like a different wave. He was taking off in spots I’d never seen anyone take off at before. He’d come out of the tube just going slower, no one comes out of the tube there slow!”

And while tales of a conquered deadly sea rubbed salt in the wound, the subject of going slow resonated with us. Our city schedules were all light speed affairs where daily surfs were squeezed into pathetic windows between morning shits and commuting. The fresh aromas of the Friday afternoon coffee shop hang inspired a weekend escape to the South Coast of NSW, and going slow was our prerogative.

It’s a medicinal part of the world, and for us city grinders some left over swell to play with in rural surrounds would be our small shot at redemption. While the winds looked to be rotten, we packed our little boards and little girlfriends ready to take it slow on a little adventure.

“My knee is still rooted and I haven’t surfed! One of the toughest weeks of my life, mate”. Kurt said. I immediately took refuge in his despondent tone.

I had got on the phone while heading south to tap some good energy from a true South Coast human, maybe catch up and shoot some waves I thought. I wasn’t expecting my first source of inspiration to be dry-docked.

“A few of the boys from a magazine were down here for the swell, all I could do was get peppered at the shop. Still some swell for the weekend, but man, did they score!”

Kurt runs Awka surf shop in Milton, and he wears the South Coast spirit like grandmas cardigan.

I did sympathize with him though I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better him not scoring either. Only a city prick would admit that. His ability to remain positively spirited gave my pride a beating. I hated missing a swell and took it like a baby. The South Coast rejects a bad city attitude; the salted air can smell it on your breath.

“Man, I wish I was rich, just enough so I didn’t have to miss another swell. I surfed for 20 minutes in the dark yesterday, for fucks sake that ain’t living!” Wylie vented with coffee in hand.

We sat roadside while shit talk carried forth some souring city livin’ attitudes. Drinking from his soy cappuccino, large, extra froth, Wylie grasped his cup like a tennis racquet, swinging it to the opening of his mouth like he was serving an ace. This quiet street on the coast became almost deserted; it was as if the town stopped to assess the assholes that had packed city hangovers.

“Stop ya bitchin’!” said Dylan as he exited Pilgrims with split melon grin.

He wasn’t yet jaded by a decade old work schedule and having scored surf all week he was well in place to school our bad attitudes.

Traveling as a posse of loved up couples on a quick hit and run mission stretches out the time between waking up and paddling out. Screwing around with breakfast rituals, hair dryers, car-pooling, piss stops and sinking way to many coffees that had us pinging off kilter. Dylan was right; we were carrying on like bitches, as we hadn’t yet surfed. Overloaded on caffeine the weekend was already a quarter drunk and we were still traveling at city speed, yet accomplishing very little of the broader plan, to go slow.

Cue empty coastline, blanketing grey sky, 4ft beach break and little girlfriends manning the video camera.

Tortoise Hare, old fart young dickhead. Mediocre conditions delivered a pacifying segue between punk attitudes and positive spirits, the complexities of maintaining the life balance washed off on the first duck dive. The reset button had been pressed hard.

A moon rose, stars flickered, the brow no longer furrowed and a sea breeze carried our drunken nocturnal howls into the south coast night. A day enjoyed in full, time lived, time keeping ditched. A chapter of south coast solitude slowed things down, supplying a bunch of city surfers’ time for real conversation. Admiration of surfing styles took place, idiosyncrasies in wave riding were assessed and moments of swapping board dimensions happened. We began to understand our surfing life a little more by going slow, even if it was just for the weekend.

We stopped off at a beach not far off the highway to bookend the two-day reset. As the setting sun cast a mystical glow over the farmland backdrop, the moments between sun up and sun down seemed to extend for twice as long as a working week sunrise.

While waiting for a last wave in, I thought back to how Dylan described Kelly’s innate ability to move at his own pace on a wave and let things happen around him. His observations ran parallel to the weekend’s slower more memorable moments.

We’d be entering a new week refreshed; knowing the ability to slow things down was a difficult skill, though definitely one worth pursuing.

I guess that’s why those going slower are often those who get ahead faster.

– Jay Killvan

2 Day Reset from Jay Killvan on Vimeo.