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       DAWN PATROL            WORDS BY JORDAN SLUTSKY        

  It was pitch black and freezing when our host Kye woke us.  There are not many things that would make me give up the warmth and coziness of my sleeping bag to brave such a bitter pre-dawn chill, except of course the possibility of surfing perfect waves.  So it was with visions of frosty barrels that I emerged from my cocoon of warmth.

The day before my friends Ryan, Greg and I had surfed 6-8 foot Bells Beach (something I would  recommend to all surfers).  While swapping long walls with only a handful of others, we befriended a local named Kye who invited us to spend the night at his place.  We had been planning on camping but with the freezing mid winter temperatures of Victoria we gladly took Kye up on his offer.  We whittled away the rest of that glorious day talking story with our new friend and eating dinner in front of a roaring fire.  It was Kye’s suggestion to check Winkipop, a wondrous right hander at Bells (apparently named after the small pop able seaweed that covers the reef) at dawn in order to avoid the crowds.

Sipping the coffee Kye made we watched our breath escape in clouds of white, each one of us (except Kye of course) nervous with anticipation.  We hastily loaded our gear, damn the wetsuits hadn’t dried, into the car.  It was still dark when we arrived at the car park, but thanks to Kye, we knew that this time we were in the right place and would not have spend thirty minutes figuring out how to descend the towering cliffs again (there are numerous car parks and trails at Bells, only some of which will get you to the surf).

We knew there were waves, even though we could not see shit, so we got down to the business of putting on almost frozen wetsuits and booties.  As the sun rose, and night gave way to day, my heart almost stopped at sight of ruler-edged lines stacked to the horizon.  Bells was great yesterday, but this looked unreal.  Solid 6 foot waves peeled with mechanical precision down the reef.  The offshore wind sent plumes of spray back to the sea, sculpting the power of the Southern Ocean into individual works of art: beautiful, raw, and ephemeral.  Best of all, there was no one out!

I managed to snap off a photo or two and was on it.  It all seemed like a dream, even Ryan getting stabbed through his boot by a sea urchin spine, until that first duck dive into the 50 degree water made me realize that it was real.  I paddled like mad.  Once in position, all I had to do was wait, turn and go.  There are times in life when everything seems perfect, times that you wish would last forever, that session was one of those times.  Never will I forget the view looking out from one memorable tube into the glorious, golden sunrise (even if I did get pinched at the end).

DO YOU HAVE  A COOL STORY ?

DO YOU HAVE  A COOL STORY ?