Outside of the Box

Comment Share Posted on Monday September 6th 2010 at 11:00 a.m. Tweet

Living without a TV is akin, at times, to living minus one of your senses. There's a scary thought - that television has become an expected extension of ones' eyesight. Sharing a leaking beach flat with peeling paint, single-glazing and a Buddhist-vegetarian girlfriend on a strict budget, unplugging from visual stimulation has become a necessary evil.

What may come as a surprise to some however is that it has also served as an unexpected pleasure. No more shapeless hours transfixed to the box - instead we read, talk, make love, eat and sleep. A simple formula that encourages other ways of keeping stimulated.

And informed. I have long been a fan of radio - not the spoon-fed homogenous pop punctuated by gabbled nonsense from mainstream afternoon DJ's, but the news, current events, information and perspectives of Radio New Zealand or the BBC. What was once an indulgence has grown to become informant and friend.

Listening to the baritones of a familiar voice read an extended long-range forecast via an AM frequency does tend to lend an authenticity and belief to the weather report that any amount of cross-referencing and collation of websites graphs and measurements cannot match. Perhaps it's the human element? A kindly voice in authority harking back to childhood. Be it Dad's advice or a schoolmasters teachings, you listened good. And trusted. The long-range had been hinting south for some left point relief for days and so camera box, wetsuits, flippers, housing, board and tripod were packed. PB and J sarnies were pre-made and a big 3 litre of water cooled in the fridge.

The fact that the day in question just happened to be the first of Spring? Skittles. Did you know that at 4am on RNZ the new days marine forecast is read out for the benefit of fishermen, surfers and insomniacs all over the country? Being able to make a call on what the surf is like from the comfort of bed before the sun is up is a special kind of knowledge. It can save you.

The swell had dropped significantly overnight - from 6 foot slabs to 3 foot peaks. Dollars, sense and a cruisey roll West instead.

Maori Bay is a great surfspot, on its day. Oaia Island sits grudgingly offshore, leaning its back into the heaviest of seas, breaking up the swells lines into wedgy shifting peaks. Often you'll take the steepest most pitching drop imaginable only to haul off the bottom and find nothing else there. Like many of the best, it can lack follow-through.

The steep cliffs, the gannets, the setting western sun do help to soothe another frustrated kick-out - save that pent up energy for the next smackable section!

It was such a south wind clear blue day that a handful of surfers couldn't help themselves from paddling out into the scrappy peaks. Random shallow half-bars added some suck to the occasional wave, allowing the greenish backlit possibility of a top turn morphing into something prettier than it really looked. That was my hope anyway as I snapped away. You have to try hard to be pissed about the waves or cold when a new seasons' sun is looking you in the eye with all its unrealised potential. It's been a trying old winter eh - rain, dodgy winds, economic strife.

Salut to you winter two oh one oh! Time to turn a corner...

Rowan