At last...THE SUN

  Caloundra, Australia
Sunday, September 9, 2007

    After four days of grim overcast I awoke yesterday (again, at an uncharacteristic 6:30am) to find a cloudless blue sky.  I ran about five miles, hearing the excited chirruping of an incredible diversity of birds-magpies, butcherbirds, bee eaters, and rosellas.  When I made it to the same beachhead from my earlier run, near the Currimundi estuary, bunches of surfers were already suiting up in the parking lot.  Things were already starting to warm up as I ran along the curvy lakeside path and some elderly man made a wisecrack at my huffing and puffing.  Each breath, though increasingly labored, felt clear and revitalizing.  My legs moved easily and as I watched the shore opposite the glimmering lake creep by I had this feeling of great satisfaction.  It would be a glorious day.
    When I got back to the house, there were the first rustlings of the family waking up-a sound I admittedly have heard very few times (I do like my sleep).  After a bit of breakfast, some coffee, and a shower, we all suited up to head to the beach.  Once there, a quick test of the water showed it to be rather like submerging yourself in an icy beer cooler.  And I didn't have a wetsuit.  Due partly to weight limitations, but mainly to poor foresight in packing, I

Ian, Heath, and Me at Dicky Beach

did not bring my brand new shorty wetsuit.  So I was designated Neil's 30+ year old neoprene top.  To say the least it was a struggle to put it on.  Jane and Heath were both pulling with all their might to dislodge it from a sticking point just under my arms, as Ian tugged at the front, grabbing hold of tufts of my chest hair, my howls of pain and alarm not quite drowning out the duet of grunts performed by Jane and Heath in the efforts.  Finally, after several minutes and what must have seemed like the bizarre reinactment of the courtier-aided dressing of some Victorian well-to-do, I had it on.  The tightness around the shoulders held my arms away from my body, but it would certainly keep my trunk from freezing in the water.  My lower body would be another matter.
    In any case, we were now ready to try some body boarding.  I had tried this many times at several beaches in Florida, but let's just say the Pacific Ocean is a different beast altogether.  Neil quickly informed me about how I should head out-walking backwards with your flippers facing the shore and heading out along a rip, an area between breakers that will take you asea without being dashed by huge breakers.  From Neil's instruction and from watching other body surfers I quickly learned how I should ideally start kicking and catch a wave right as it was stacking up and then head laterally along the channel away from the breaking water.  In attempting this, I fought my way out to the back, where the big waves start to form and then waited for just the right opportunity.  I started kicking furiously, but too late, and just missed my first attempt.  Of course, I then discovered that big waves normally come in sets, and so having moved forward a bit, I was then at the point where the waves were at the highest point and starting to crest.  Rising about 12 feet and falling with the weight of thousands of gallons of water, I was then trounced, spun like a shoe in a dryer, and water forced far into my nostrils.  Coming up coughing and sputtering, I had just a few seconds to start moving and dive under the next wave, fighting to get back to where I had been earlier.
    After a while, I got the hang of it and caught some really great waves and rode them out like I was supposed to.  One time I got going and intentionally steered toward Heath and barely missed him.  When I stood up, the wave following me was now apparently carrying my vindictive cousin, who then (he says unintentionally) used his skull to battering ram me in the kidney.  Well done mate.  So, after thoroughly exhausting ourselves in the surf, and feeling a bit beaten, we headed back home.  

    Today the game plan was to head south, just past Brisbane, to Neil's lifelong friend Peter's 50th birthday bash.  First we stopped near Brisbane to pick up Ray Duggan (whose wife is confusingly named Rae Duggan), another longtime friend of Neil and Jane.   After a brief stop at the Duggan's for some morning coffee and pikelets (sweet little pancakes served with jam), we were on our way again.  
    Peter's house can best be described as...badass.  Out front he had parked a newly purchased fishing boat.  Next to that was a patio and a pool, providing a nice view from the hilltop where the house sits.  It was a small party, and though I obviously didn't know anyone, I was warmly welcomed.  And after the freely provided wine and XXXX beer (which is my favorite Australian beer so far) everyone was happy and eager to hear my spiel on bowerbird mating rituals.  It was also decided that when I get back from Wallaby Creek the Rosses, myself, Peter's nephew Dave, and his wife will all go to Moreton Island, which is a national park just north of here.
    On the car ride home, Heath for some reason suggested that we come up with funny band names to pass the time.  So for the next hour and a half Heath, Ian, and I were shouting out such a massive jumble of randomness that Neil chose to drown it out with some riveting report of the minute-by-minute measure of the tides or some such thing. Here is what we came up with:

The Teatime Sandwich Burglers
The Sasquatch Singers
The Elephant Trunk Stompers
The Kickboxing Naked Mole Rats
The Goat Milk Slip-n-Slides
The Watermelon-headed Space Explorers
*The Poodle Doodlers
Danger McMurtry and the Fancy Teapots
The Basket-Weaving Manatees
The Toddling Dingo Eater Babies
Shrub...
The Munching Moose Masquerade
The Fuzzy Duckling Punchers
Micronesian Whale Poot Quartet
Corncob Squaredants
The Gargantuan Gecko Gang


*-My personal favorite.

So I'll leave you with that. Hopefully you will get some enjoyment out of them, and I invite you to submit your favorite name from the list, or one of your own, should you be struck with brilliance.  Till next time.

Cheers,
Matt