It’s curious to me how the magnetic pull of surfing overrides the primal fear of sharks. When a whale washed up between Eastern Beach and Nahoon in August, the surfing and swimming community were understandably nervous about the sharks the carcass attracts.
Then came Kevin Harris’ close encounter with a great white near Mermaids’ Pool soon after and all hands were off deck … for at least a few days.
Slowly but surely, the surfers and open water swimmers returned to their waters, even Reef.
It’s fine, we told ourselves. Safety in numbers? Let’s go out together, spread the risk.
It’s now September and the whale is still there and probably will be until it decays, which could take months.
Non-surfers and non-open water swimmers probably shake their heads and think we are idiots to take such risks.
Of course, shark attacks can, and do, happen, but they are few and far between.
I’ve only started surfing less than a year ago and pre-surfing I would have judged the surfers getting in the water with a dead whale around the corner.
Now I get it.
Yes, it is a lottery. And most of us prefer more legs in the water to spread the risk, so tend to surf in groups.
Personally, I feel more at risk navigating the tricky intersection from Old Boys to Old Transkei Road, where no one quite knows whose turn it is to cross the road, than I do surfing backline at Corner.
Life is all about trade-offs, mitigating risks where we can but choosing to take risks when the payoff means being in the water, chasing the Zen, overlooking the minimal chance that a shark may take a liking to us.
There is something magical and liberating about paddling out, a feeling of freedom unlike anything else in our ridiculously suburban lives.
If you’re stacking up the odds of possibly getting chomped by a great white versus the thrill surfing gives you that gets you through the day, I reckon a paddle will win every time.
On September 9, there was a proper shark encounter at Queensbury Point. Graeme Field and his son, Daniel, were lucky to get out of the water unscathed.
My immediate thought? Well, avoid Queensbury for a while, let’s surf Yellows tomorrow!
I don’t want to minimise the heartbreak of shark attack victims.
To be taken in that manner is brutal and hectic and tragic.
Which is why it is interesting that surfers still get in the water, some of whom have lost friends to ocean predators.
I’ve given a lot of thought as to why surfing, in particular, out of all the sports I have done, is so addictive.
Unless you’re a contest surfer, there are no medals or times to aim for, no accolades or applauds for paddling out, and yet I am drawn to do so time and time again. Wind direction determines my day’s movements, and even mood.
For me, surfing is a gift, a balm, a tonic, a relief, a release.
Paddling out, I can breathe.
I leave my worries on the shore and look around. I am awestruck and enveloped, immersed in beauty, the scale of which fills my soul and pushes problems to the back of my mind.
Flying down a wall of water, skimming over a glass surface, constantly gazing out for the rising edge of the next set, even getting crunched up and smashed, I can’t think of what needs the most thought and that’s exactly what I need at the time.
Perhaps it’s just me, or maybe that’s what drives surfers to risk the very real danger a beached whale — with an increase in shark activity — presents in order to paddle out and find peace.
Taralyn McClean is a former editor of Go! Welcome back!
There is something magical and liberating about paddling out, a feeling of freedom unlike anything else in our ridiculously suburban lives
