Underwater Selfie

Sometimes the lousy surf, the lousy weather and lousy health all line up. Life happens.

Ages ago, my friend Lisa gave me a yellow sticky note with the words "the sun will come out tomorrow!" I still have it pinned to the refrigerator underneath some pics of World Vision kids who are doing it a million times tougher than me or anybody who has a computer or is literate.
It's a beacon of light on dark days. Thanks heaps Lis, it came in handy this week.

Below is a sandwich of an iPhone Sahara Desert dawn with a selfie underwater near Margaret River WA. It only took a cup of coffee to make, but I like the way the eyes and the palms lined up without me having to do any digital fanciness.

And yes the sun has come out again.

Mix Tape

Moonset

If you saw the full moon setting this morning in our arid western skies you'd agree it was a pretty awesome experience, difficult to describe. If you didn't see it, then I can't really explain the magnetic hypnotism of a glowing heavenly blob edging towards the rim of our planet through a screen of silhouetted branches. The feeling is somewhere between a thrilling barrel and finding a green oasis after traversing a monotonous, barren lunar desert for hours.

 Have a thrilling weekend.

Monochrome (Sand)

Some more entries from my on-again-off-again iPhone diary:

I put the cameras away as the afternoon wears on. I've lost track of the number of mountain ranges we've crept over and the number of vast, desolate lunar-looking mountain plains we've crossed. This part of Morocco is stark, I mean it makes the Nullabor Plain look lush! 

This is definitely an ipod or book leg. At least we were warned and everybody seems to be hunkered down reading, listening to tunes, dozing or all of the above. The mountains are craggy, surreal, ancient. I can see why Hollywood and the Euro’s liked shooting their movies here – safe, cheap, different and light that’s a lot softer than Broken Hill or Marble Bar, even in the middle of the day. (Though we are definitely not talking summer, where it gets to 50 degrees Celsius here.)

We edge ever closer to the Sahara. The road actually gets better, possibly because here there's a strong military presence. We are warned not to photograph soldiers. We will be going close to the Algerian border. Apparently the two countries are not on the best terms.

Omar pushes the 14 seater Merc bus ever deeper into the dry, sandy heart of Morocco and we start to see date palms beside little mountain streams that eventually run dry in the desert. The camel burger is giving my ass a run for its money and my bladder is rebelling against the constant bumps. There's nothing to see to the horizon except this bare, dry Martian terrain.

Up front. Omar and Yacine are in animated discussion in Berber-Arabic. They could be arguing about the soccer, chatting about the weather or even Yacine's wedding in a few weeks. I have no idea. My question and prayers are answered when all of a sudden a bloody huge oasis at the bottom of a gorge appears out of the middle of nowhere! It's time for a stretch, a haggle and a toilet and a camera stop. I don’t think it was quite in that order though.

After 11 hours and 20 minutes on the road, we park at the edge of the dunes. Just so glad I don’t have to drive, cook or clean up on this trip. The bed feels hard but I'm asleep instantly. Knackered somewhere near Algeria, nowhere near Tibrogargan. 

Tomorrow, I’ll ride my first camel, even managing “no hands” to shoot from the beast' hum, while trekking into the amazing gargantuan dunes of the Sahara Desert to camp under a curtain of stars I don’t know and putting my life in the hands of blue robed Bedouin strangers.

And I'll definitely remember to shake my Nikes of scorpions in the morning."

Surfless x Zen

flat

waveless

clear

Too Old to Rocknroll

More than a thousand suns have grazed my eyes and scorched my skin since my first day at school, a holy picture in my top pocket to protect me and sox that didn't match. I have forsaken the gut blasting pain of pre-rashie-era styrofoam short boards for a plethora of fins, foils and rockers. 

This weekend sees a group of ageing grommets assemble for the annual winter Wrecks and Relics gathering (dare I say "contest"). These are the crew who were there (probably don't remember) when single fins became twin fins and thrusters morphed into longboards more suitable for a gentlemanly (dare I say "middle-aged") approach to sliding the brine.

So if you see a bunch of leathery old buggers down near the Noosa Rivermouth laughing at each other, lugging around old Joe Larkins and Woosley's, know that they have seen it and done it all and that you can still surf after 60!

Monochrome Monday (filmless Atlas)

 I still use a number of film cameras on occasion - usually when the light is perfect or I need large format in the studio, but for the rest of the time, I heart digital and my darkroom-in-a-box.

Duo duo

 Book of the week - "The Five Secrets You Must Discover Before You Die" by John Izzo, who argues the following:

1   be true to yourself

2   leave no regrets

3   become love

4   live the moment

5   give more than you take

(I'm adding one for surfers

wear sunscreen)