In further trips down memory lane, this is the west coast Northland beach that I nearly drowned at while surfing during a storm.

It wasn’t so much the big waves that were the problem. It was the not being able to breathe underwater. Although I did try. I tried and I learned that even though your mind tricks you into believing you can breathe underwater, you can’t really. Not like Aquaman.

That was a long time ago.

I haven’t been back since. Actually, that’s not true. I went back with my brothers the very next weekend, to get back on the, er, horse, so to speak. The waves were still rough. Got dumped by the first big one. Swallowed some water. Said “Fuck this” and headed back in.

Shame. It looked cool in that movie, Point Break. Oh wait. He died, didn't he? Nevermind.

It is a pretty dangerous beach, though. I think David Hasslehoff would shit himself. It’s unpatrolled. Which doesn’t help matters.

But it’s also beautiful. I used to climb the sand dunes and cliffs when I was young. Used to ride my motorbike up them when I was older. Fished there. Did I tell you about the time I nearly drowned there? Freaky.

It’s wild. It’s rugged. Sometimes throws amusing little tantrums.

We have a lot in common.

[Obviously the surf on a non-stormy day. The blue sky is a giveaway, I guess.]

(Me doing the ole Telling-the-time-by –the-position –of- the-sun trick.)
(That’s not my watch. Honest)

[That's my little brother, by the way. While I was wrestling with a wave that day, trying to work out where the surface was, he was on the shore looking at my surfboard with the broken legrope and trying to work out where his big brother was. Good times, Good times.]

We went back on a whim.
I think I’d like to go back there camping this year.

Probably leave the surf board at home, though.

Probably.