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Full moon surf scar

It’s 5am. I’m cleaning out my wounds. A big bomb (wave) threw me down the rocks reef when I was full-moon-surfing Malibu an hour ago.

Clean long lines. All shadows and a light. A big yellow eye illuminating the black surfers heads. There’s at least 10 of us out there. But no one makes a sound. Between sets it’s pure calmness. No fear at all. But here they coming. Boom. C’mon.

The moonlight shapes the height. I can see it breaking far out. You don’t want to get caught up inside. Not tonight. It’s dark. It’s late. It’s cold. And you don’t want to be in the washing machine. Eye of the hurricane. You don’t want to hold your breath while the wave sucks you down for an eternity and drink salt water when you’re launched back to the surface by the next whirlpool all exhausted having to recover in a matter of seconds because the next is coming. But if you want to ride, and that’s what we came here to do, you have to risk it all.

Off-shore winds blowing up the lips of this huge chics. Position yourself. Try to avoid the forests of kelp. Paddle hard. Don’t think. I see it when is just 20f away from me. It’s big. ‘But hey, this one is mine’. Paddle, paddle, paddle. I turn my head around to the left and here it is. Uuuuuuuuuuuhuuuuuuuuu!! IIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiihiiiiiiiiiii! That’s how we say each other ”hey, i’m on the wave!”

A great wall of water stays on my right and I touch the unstoppable smoking crest. An angry white foam follows my tail. You draw your line and let it go through the awesomely turned black into blue waterwall. First section’s feeling is indescribable. It’s like god coming down to earth making you feel like you are a man. And that, my friends, gets stuck in your neck. At the very bottom of your head.

Soon the story comes to an end. You’re throwing turns as she calms down when approaching the shore. Euphoria revolution. Infinite joy. Ecstasy. Shaking. Smiling. Screaming. Sexy.

I paddle back out. And there I’m again. Moonlight shapes the height. Off-shores winds blowing up the lips. It’s dark. It’s cold. It’s late. I touch my tipp big toe and I can feel there is no skin. Oh sh*t! I must have hit the reef at the end of that wave. Thanks then. If that is all what it takes. I am extremely grateful then for everything that brought me to that point on earth at that moment in time, to do something worth remembering with a photograph, or a scar. For having discovered there was nothing to loose where adrenaline of freedom becomes extremist. And is just that clean that fear to death vanishes. And magic happens.

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