The initial cold blast of air across our bare skin shocks our senses as we race, barefooted across the bitumen road to the beach; our surfboards tightly pressed against our sides, like shields protecting us from the wind...
We reach the shore and hastily secure our leg ropes to our right ankles- We ride 'natural', left foot first. We then pull our wetsuits over our torsos and with arms raised above our heads, pull our zipper cords up to seal our second skins before braving the cool water. With a nod towards other surfers arriving for the morning breaks, we sprint through the icy white wash before leaping onto our boards and paddling out the back between the sets.
For two hours we paddle hard against the current, dragging ourselves through the water, catching waves back towards the shore and returning to the calm waters behind the breakers. Eventually we begin to shiver and our stomaches grumble with hunger. We ride to shore at an incredible pace and laugh like children at the number of times we were dumped, comparing red rashes and wrinkly prune-like skin from the water on the way home.
When we arrive, we hose the salty sea water and sand from our boards, shower under a glass-sided waterfall and ravenously pick at the previous night's dinner leftovers as we prepare our next meal to be enjoyed on our balcony overlooking the sea.
Winter surfing is one of my favourite activities in the cooler months. We surf when we can, for health, for laughter, and for the soul. There's no other place I'd rather be than with my husband, floating and surfing in the powerful blue sea.