Surfing

Santa Cruz is surfing. And I never realized until I moved here exactly why people love to surf. Not that I surf or will surf--I'm too afraid that that water will swallow me forever--but the spectacle is amazing.

There seems to be an art, a subtle interpretation of where the wave is going so you know how to prolong the ride. And there are the nuances by which people swimming out and surfers rolling in know how to avoid each other. And there is the not so subtle element that surfers are throwing themselves directly into the power of the ocean, trying to harness it for a thrill or deflect it as a test of prowess.

There is poetry to it, but probably it can only be fully expressed by a surfer.

There always seems to be as many spectators watching from the cliff tops as there are surfers. You watch mammoth waves begin to swell far from shore. You watch a surfer riding the peak, pursued by the wave itself even as he rides it, and you anticipate the moment when it catches him, sweeps him off his feet, but then he is turning across the face of the wave, balances and slides away into quieter water, upright and victorious.