Dawn at Coconuts, Midigama, Sri Lanka

Holding the board in both hands I lunge forward, springing off the soft sand, before landing stomach down. The board sails through the cool blue water, using my arms I begin to paddle, gently gliding across the liquid surface.

The sun, slowly rises to the east, evaporating the darkness, painting a picture with it's rays of colour, oranges, yellows, reds, fade into blue. Silhouettes of coconut tress, which give this break it's name, greet me with a wave.

Dawn at Coconuts, Midigama
Alone, yet I am not alone, below fish scourer the reef, turtles surface for air and seagulls dive bomb the unsuspecting marine life, morning has broken.

Paddling, excitement rustles deep inside, I admiringly observe the rolling waves, like mercury, they creep along the seabed, mapping the depths before reaching the shallow reef and curling into the blue sky, breaking with a crash of thunder and a trail of white water.

The waves call me, the thrill of riding these majestic waves of nature, on a board crafted from foam, cloth, resin and thin layers of glass fibre  The art of surfing has always been surrounded in mystery, ever since Captain James Cook first observed the Polynesians, sailing the waves using carved tree trunks.   

I slow at the peak, where the wave first begins to break and sit upon my board, watching, waiting, for that wave with my name on it. There is no wind this early, perfect conditions, the surface reflects like glass, refracting my legs dangling into the water. Shades of blues distinguish the depths below, as I stare out to sea, smiling.

Creeping toward me I notice a large swell, mine all mine my thoughts drift off, I turn and position my board, paddling to were I suspect the highest point will be. I wait and watch as it approaches, I lightly nudge myself forward, then using my arms I claw at the water, generating speed, alternating between left and right. The resistance between board and liquid is minimal, I lean forward brushing my chin over the top of the board and feel the power of the wave propel me forward.

Coconuts, Midigama
Grabbing the sides, rails, in both hands I push my board into the water, thrusting my torso into the air, my feet race up, finding their place gripping onto the wax. The momentum drives me forward and I slice down the wave, the water rushing up to meet me, leaving a trail behind. The rush is instant, my focus is magnified, I weave for more speed, using the vertical incline as my play ground. Below me the reef rushes by, as I sail effortlessly along the face of the wave, towards the shoreline, creating a splash here and there.

I pop off the back before it gets too shallow, landing flat on my stomach to paddle back to where it all began, adrenaline pumping through my veins, like a child on Christmas day waiting to open another present. This is the reason I forbade sleep rising early and peddling the 2 kms in the dark to ride these waves until my arms ache and force my return to the shoreline, satisfied and hungry for breakfast.   

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