Articles

THE BODYSURFER

by John Little

Tim stood on the shore with the waves just lapping his fins and gazed out to sea. Two hundred yards out, grey winter swells broke in regular succession on the sand bank. The air was heavy with their sound. He scanned the ocean north and south, no surfboards, no other bodysurfers and, an hour before sunset, no one else was likely to turn up. This was excellent, he would have the ocean to himself.

Turning, he shuffled backwards until he was up to his waist in water, then pivoted and plunged under a wave, feeling a delicious shock as cold ocean enfolded him. He came to the surface and stroked powerfully twice before another shore break reared up. In a smooth continuation of his overarm stroke he dived, eyes wide open. Planing down to skim the bottom, he saw scraps of weed, suspended sand, a shadow of rock. There was a thud overhead and momentary darkness as the wave passed. He came to the surface and heard the foam hissing like soda pop as it settled. He uttered a long, exalted sigh and trod water for a few moments, smiling with pleasure. He was where he belonged.

Another wave was approaching. He dived under as it broke, and felt the turbulence tug at his heels. Surfacing, he swam steadily out against the breakers, barely pausing in his rhythm as he dived under each one. In deeper water now, he saw a wave rearing above him and floated up the concave face, his head butting through the lip as it fell. For a moment his body hung suspended, two-thirds airborne. His arms were outstretched, Christ-like and as he settled back into the water he hugged it and laughed. He wondered if the dolphins would be there today.

A few more strokes and he was in the take-off zone. As he trod water, his thoughts returned fleetingly to land. Three weeks ago he had lost his job. He had always gone surfing early before work. But the morning dip gradually lasted longer and longer until he was regularly late. Then he began leaving early, for an afternoon swim. When the surf was especially good he would take the day off. In the end his boss had called enough. He should be worried but it seemed trivial and unimportant. Being here, floating free, in the sea was what mattered.

A medium-sized wave approached, but he let it go. He was waiting for a shoulder to present itself. Further out and a little to the right, he saw a shape forming. With a few quick strokes he changed position and poised. It would break left. The wave reared and he thrust with his fins, pushing his left arm forward and digging his shoulder into the face. The water was green in front of him and he heard the rippling sound of his body planing down. The corner was holding nicely. His head was clear and he could breath.

Glancing along the wave he saw it begin to close out. He lowered his head and drove hard into the approaching curl.

As the break caught him he allowed his body to relax completely, giving himself up to the churning water. Over and over he turned, lazily, like a leaf caught in a maelstrom. For a moment he felt the bottom, then the sharp scrape of floating weed. He could see nothing through the broken water. The turbulence was passing, the water was getting calmer, opaque turning to green, but he was in no hurry to surface. He would like to stay here forever. How he envied the dolphins.

He swam underwater for a few moments with his eyes open, then reluctantly surfaced and swam out again. Beyond the break, he trod water and his thoughts turned again to the land. ‘You think you're a goddamn fish,’ said his boss. ‘OK, so go be a fish, but not on my time.’ Two weeks ago they had cut off the phone. Yesterday it was the power. The landlord was screaming for the rent. And it was all irrelevant.

They called him crazy, obsessed, irrational. They were just words. He wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't a fish. He couldn't breath under water could he? But there were other creatues in the sea besides fish. Dolphins, for instance, had to come up for air and they lived in the sea, didn't they?

Instinct told him a big set was due. He swam further out and, a minute later, saw a grey wall approaching, as beautiful and complex as a symphony. Suddenly there was a flash of grey. A dolphin lay in the wave grinning at him. He shouted a greeting and launched. Like the wave before, it was a fine left, only bigger and faster. It gave him a hard, buffeting ride until the shoulder petered out in the rip. He pulled off, whooping with delight and looked to see if the dolphins were still there.

Grey fins pierced the swell just beyond the break. As he watched, another wave reared and three or four dolphins swam onto it, surfing down the face until it broke. Tim smiled and swam fast out through the rip to join them.

The dolphins gambolled around him like puppies. Tim dived and swam down to the bottom and they followed him. The biggest made a run at him and at the last moment turned aside. Tim reached out and ran his hand along the dolphin's smooth back as it swept by. He chuckled with delight.

Another wave came. Tim took off, whooping exultantly and saw a grey shape in the water beside him as he slid down the face. As the wave broke, he duck-dived and let it pass on. Ten feet away the back of the dolphin broke the surface and he heard it breath before it sounded. 'Hey buddy, howja like the ride?' Tim shouted. He was high, laughing uncontrollably. Someone answered, 'Fantastic huh?' He wasn't sure if it was him or the dolphin. It didn't matter.

Rebecca had pleaded with him not to go this morning. Crying, saying he had to get back in touch with reality. She just didn't understand. This was reality right here. He'd have to try to explain it better to her.

The rest of the school were still milling about out beyond the break. Tim swam out to join them and trod water. Maybe they'd share another wave with him.

He waited, but no wave came. The dolphins cruised about desultorily, no longer playing with him. They seemed bored. The lull stretched on for minutes. Then, as if at a signal, the school headed out to sea. 'Hey wait,' cried Tim. But they kept going. Instinctively he began to swim after them. A wave was coming, perfectly shaped, but he disregarded it. He kept his head down and swam, further and further.

After ten minutes he paused and looked to see if the dolphins were still in sight. There they were, a hundred yards ahead, their fins undulating smoothly in and out of the water. They were still heading slowly out to sea. Tim glanced once back towards the shore. The land was a long way away. The surf club was a tiny yellow cube on a ribbon of deserted sand and he could just glimpse the next beach around the northern headland. The ocean was a different colour out here, a deep green which seemed to go down forever, soft and welcoming.

Tim was warm from swimming hard. He took one last look at the land so far away. A thought flitted momentarily and was gone, no longer relevant. Turning once more, he began to swim again. As he ploughed on steadily, the sun slid below the horizon and darkness blackened the surface of the sea. When he looked now he could no longer see the dolphins but he knew they were out there somewhere. He continued to swim with strong, rhythmic strokes and did not look back.