The Phantom

Wow. Two crazy days living on apples, bananas, bread & choriço. I don't even wanna imagine what my innards are inadvertently attempting to communicate to me. Lucky it doesn't know Morse Code... not that it would matter much cus neither do. But if we both did by some miraculous twist of bizzarness, live in the "world of fate" (which neither I nor my stomach live in currently... and neither do currents. The blasted things live with us. Raisins too, I've seen them!! We will all be perishing soon, I can tell you that... but that's another story), then I know full well what it'd be telling me. And it's too crude for me to divulge on this blank piece of paper. Anyway, I arrived on to the camp site on Monday afternoon and pitched my tent to the sombre moods that only the dusk from the coast of Portugal in mid October can produce. The sun shied away behind a mass of cloud that would make any attacking alien spaceship proud. Every now and then it popped it's head through some cracks, but only to remind you it was there, before it zipped off again almost as if stating you hadn't paid your electricity bill and it was gonna make you suffer for it! As it was, I decided there was still time to head off out to see if I could catch some waves. Now, the distance to the beach was something like 20 minutes on foot. 20 minutes if you go the way the guards at the front of the campsite wanted you to. There's a shortcut if you jump the back gate that'll get you there in 5. Unfortunately, I'd had a little chat with them (me and my stupid mouth... actually it was just my stupid mouth. Dang it!), and they couldn't stress enough how irritating it was to have to stop would-be surfers from climbing over the fence and subsequently damaging it... so I bit the bullet and went the long way round. By the time I got round to the beach, the sun was just about to set and the world darkened too quick for my surprise to possibly described effectively. Actually, I could probably describe it, but I'd have to think, and I'm in no mood right now as my surprise did me no favours apart from surprise me. If my surprise had say, decided to surprise me with a surprise birthday cake for example, then maybe I might just have had the patience to describe that good old surprise but for now, tough luck. Besides, I'm writing this, not you... (Surprise ;-)). In the distance, probably about another 30 minute walk, half way round a crescent moon shaped bay, 3 surfers were coming out of the water, leaving 2 out there in choppy metre and a half waves that looked sexy from a distance but that also just looked like too much bother. Once again my mind (I do hate it sometimes) told me NO! So I kept walking. 10 more minutes down the beach and it seemed like I'd made no distance at all. I dropped my board, stretched out my towel and decided not to go, but go for just a swim instead. The water was wondrously warm in comparison to how it had been in the summer. I paddled and floated around for a little while and let the waves wash over me and came out. Walking past me were two cute girls with their dogs (I kept my mouth shut for once) and the 3 surfers in the distance were ambling toward me. I got out and contemplated waiting for the surfers to have a chat (as I do...) but thought better of it and started my long trek back. On the way, after less than 3 minutes from the beach, I walked past the back gate, meaning my tent was but 3 more minutes away, however, because the guards had seen me go out, I had to let them see me come back in again or Mr. Suspicion would come out from behind his desk with some kind of weapon I'm sure. A large dingy or maybe even a nicely assorted compilation of fruit in a bowl and surprise me by showing it to me then stuffing it in my face till I could consume no more. Not a bad way to go I guess. Death by Fruiting! I couldn't really see a lawyer getting you out of that one to be honest. "Sorry, case closed. No compensation to the family as the situation is too bizarre! NEXT!". And so the trek back was a painful one. So painful in fact that, really rather embarrassingly, I ended up with a rash between my legs cus of the annoying net that has somehow mysteriously found itself into every man's beach swimming trunks! How on heaven and earth did they manage that one, eh? I mean, I would have been there, leading the protest had I known the idea was in motion! I hated them from the word go. "Great, lets invent a kind of net to hold onto the man's privates for when he goes swimming in the ocean. Like a "net" to catch fish. A-Ha-ha-ha. Get it?" Seriously... that person, whoever he or she is should be shot!... And then shot again just be doubly sure. Sorry. I do hate them very much. Anyway, nothing a good old fashion tub of Nivea Cream couldn't solve once purchased the next day. Speaking of the next day! Up I arose in my cosy little tent. The sound of the unzipping of the front of it brought back lovely memories of the festival in Zambujeira Do Mar I'd been too earlier this year. Only this time, it was the sound of mine alone and not thousands of others around me. I perched out, grabbed my toothbrush and paste and headed off down the to the bathrooms / showers / toilet area (whateva it's called) to be confronted by a guy I'd met on the beach not 3 days earlier. A guy called Gerónimo from Peru who spoke pretty good English and some French, so after a bowl of language pasta, we seemed to be able to communicate rather successfully. Incredibly, I'd actually pitched my tent pretty close to his and a couple of people he'd met from Argentina. Their English wasn't so good but good humour and sign language allowed us to get on like a tent on fire (of which I'm happy to say I saw non!). After all the pleasantries had been exchanged, I went for a walk to Supertubos. No waves. Pants! I walked back, past the site and on to the supermarket to get some bread. On the way back, I walked up the dunes of Baleal. It was about 8 in the morning and the dew in the sand made the trek an unpleasant one for me in my sandals but I carried on. As I reached the summit and looked over the bay that just the night before, I'd quickly dropped into for my dusky swim, I was confronted with the sight all surfers dream of. 2/3 meter waves with offshore winds that made them look like they rose up to the size of a street light! My heart seemed to increase 10 fold in speed and giddy as a school kid, my pace increased as I marched / hopped / ran / jogged / bounced, you name it (!) back on to the site. 10 minutes later I walked up to the tent and tried to calm down a little. I turned to the guys and said "Hey, I've just been past Baleal" and I stretched as high up with my hand in the air as possible, attempting to convey the size of the waves to them and their jaws dropped. In 5 minutes, we were all suited and booted and at the door of the campsite with our boards and flippers at the ready (apparently, the guys had been caught by the guards the night before, jumping the back gate so were not ready to piss them off again quite yet). We ambled (a bit slowly for my liking but hey...) out to the beach. 20minutes later, when reaching the summit of another dune and confronted by the site, the expressions of all were there to see... and their paces increased! We started walking down the beach until we found a good spot up against one of the banks that led to the dunes and parked our gear. We quickly got our suits out and started discussing where the best place to go in was. There were quite a few peaks, but one in particular stuck out. Past 6 breaks of white rushing, destroyed waves, was one immaculate spot where the emotion of pure love itself would have found it hard to compete against. The wave was easily 4/5 meters at its highest and would probably take at least 20 minutes to paddle round it as straight ahead against it would result in almost certain failure. Maybe not for Superman mind you, but I gave him a quick call and he said he was a tad busy and could he call me back. Something about holding a bus filled with screaming children off of Golden Gate Bridge or something. Good ol Superman up to his old stunts! Still. I was annoyed that he couldn't come round to disprove my theory. Anyway, we paddled in and took a few hammerings but once we were out, we were able to relax somewhat. Then another 10 minutes round past all the surfers to the farthest point where the outside was. I heard a few of them chatting to each other saying it wasn't worth going out there cus the particular wave we'd seen wasn't appearing so much. Non the less, we did it. Indeed it wasn't appearing much, but when it did, we were the first to know about it. The first one came after about another 10 minutes of waiting and caught me out. A wave easily two stories high appeared out of nowhere. I would have shat my pants but for the fact I know I would have been pissed off with myself for doing it in my suit. Like an idiot, I went toward it, knowing full well it was probably too late. As the wave got closer, so it's size increased and I let out a yelp. I looked over to Gerónimo out to my left. He was just about to make it past the break and looked back in my direction worryingly. Paddling like a mad man, already tired from the travel to get there, the wave broke 5 meters in front of me crashing onto the clean water up ahead and roaring toward me like and avalanche of the devils snow, pure, and recently fallen clean from a fresh powdered mountain. I pushed down on my board and took a deep breath just as the wave crashed and I prayed... but to no avail. It seemed to pick me up, when I'm sure it crashed over head. Still, it grabbed me and I held on to the rails of my board. I started to worry somewhat as at one point, I was sure the board had already flipped me over a couple of times and I didn't know which way was up. Still underwater and with no breath left. I tensed my muscles and I started to feel the board struggle to get upwards. I kicked my flippers as hard as possible and suddenly burst through the surface of the water like as if propelled by an underwater trampoline and wishing to display to all, my wonderfully toned and muscular chest (yeah right ;-)). I shook my head to rid myself of the water in my eyes and turned in time to see another huge wave crashing approximately 15 meters away. I knew there was no chance. And to make matters worse, I'd been carrying a calf injury in my left leg. Initially I put it in the shopping basket cus I thought it would make a nice dinner, but now I was regretting the fact as it would not go away and I'd started to feel the beginnings of a touch of cramp. Inside myself I could not stop cursing. I hadn't stretched well before hand and now, right at the beginning of the day, I was not only caught out of position, but I might have to give the whole thing up. I tried to get under the next wave but it was pointless. As I did, I realized I was past the basic point and I was gonna get trounced. I turned, with my back facing the next one and waited for the wall of water to pick me up and take me all the way back to shore. I got out, swearing angrily out loud, took my flippers off and jogged back to the towels. Of course, the other guys were still in the water and the beach felt eerily empty. Everyone was taking full advantage of the beautiful surf and I was left rueing. Still, I didn't give up. I stuffed a banana in my mouth like a ravished sole and started stretching out the leg. This time I took my time and when I was ready, I dove back in. I went past one of the guys (the two Argentines were only body surfing) and they said it was too big to get out without a board. I shrugged and asked where Gerónimo was and they gestured out toward the massive wave we'd gone out for. I repeated the initial process of paddling past the 6 breaks and then diagonally past the surfers again. One even smiled at me and said "Apanhaste com umas setes em cima, ehm?!". Well... at least they were friendly! I just shook my head, sighed deeply and said "fogo!". I kept paddling to see Gerónimo and he held his arms out and just said "what happened man?!". So I proceeded to tell him all and he smiled and said "always do your exercise buddy!" hehe! Typical. Anyway. After all that, all I can say is thank goodness for persistence. We both picked up and went out to the "phantom" outsider. You sometimes feel like a true idiot cus a) you end up waiting way longer for a wave whereas everyone else is catching them further down the beach far more regularly and b) it's so easy to misjudge positions that you end up unavoidably missing some. And you just know the other surfers are laughing at your inability to get it. Still... it was the wave, and all the surfers I was speaking to out there shared in the understanding that the peak for it was hard to find. And finally, Gerónimo caught one. I was gonna catch it too but he had position, so I let him go. Once the wave had gone, I turned round and started paddling out, just in case another was coming. I couldn't see anything for at least 5 seconds because the offshore winds were spraying the top of the previous wave right out over me, showering me completely and making it hard to breath as well as impossible to see. In those cases, I find it's always best to paddle forward just in case... and in this case, thank god I did. Once the spray had finished and I shook my face to rid my eyes of the water once more, I was confronted by a giant! A huge mammoth of a wave with the peak right bang smack ahead of me. I couldn't decide whether to go to or to stay put. What I had decided was that this baby was mine. Regardless! I kinda went one way, then another, but always a little forward and then turned. I didn't have to do anything to catch it. It simply picked me up and took me metres up into the air. The drop was pure and simplistically, utterly daunting. The clean face ahead of me was pure and smooth as I took off to the right. I pushed my board down and let myself whoosh away from the breaking peak to my left and did nothing but ride it in awe. I didn't cutback, I didn't 360, I did nothing fancy at all. Just rode that honey like it was my own. The wall of the wave just kept taking me on down and later someone had told me that a massive tube was chasing me all the way. I guess I could have slowed down and tried to get in it, but it was my first and probably most delightful wave of the day and nothing came to mind but riding her for as long as I could. As she got smaller, I started to give a few cutbacks and messed around a little. I probably should have got off earlier so that I didn't have to paddle back past any breaks, but I was still living the highest thrill available to anyone that rides waves and I wanted this one to last the distance. And it did. It took me at least another 15 minutes to get back out to Gerónimo again but it was worth it. Around then, the tide started to rise, and although the "phantom" threatened, it never again broke and Gerónimo and I came inside to catch some smaller ones. We saw others go far out to try to catch her as well, but she'd gone to sleep by then and arose for nobody else. In the evening we were all shattered. In fact even now, the day after, my bones feel as brittle as a piece of bark, having been carbonated over centuries of time and my muscles feel like they've been pulled and yanked out of position by some monster of a man having a field day at a circus or something. Anyway, I had some bread and choriço and the Argentine chaps gave me a hotdog and some rice. Food had never tasted so good and as we stood outside of our tents drinking, smoking and laughing away, we watched the moon rise through the night and bless us with one of the best nights sleep I think I've ever had :-)