Sunrise, Sunset II

I didn't bother trying to stay awake for the drive from LA. In the past I'd got drunk as a monkey before check-in but this time I had reason to go straight to bed. After the usual petty grumbling about his room from the same petulant wankshaft, I got into a real bed around 3.30.

I was awakened from my fuzzy slumber at 7.15 and almost went back to bed, but soldiering on, I packed my bag and went downstairs for breakfast.

Following a quick trip to the bus to raid the beer fridge, the cooler was packed and we were on our way to Mission Beach, San Diego. Sitting on the near-deserted beach at 8.30 in jeans and a jacket, ominous clouds overhead, I was wishing I'd stayed in bed.

Not being the greatest swimmer, I let my regular off-day buddy Crabman go first. The other guy, Lobsterboy, had his own board and suit so he would act as instructor.

When I finished laughing my ass off at watching Crabman get dunked by the waves, it was my turn. lobsterboy, in broken English, gave me the very basics on paddling out, surviving breaking waves and sitting up on the board.

Then he high-fived me, said 'you are surfer now!' and fucked off.
Now, I know a lot has been written about the sea and surfing. Surfers have a certain 'you wouldn't understand, mere land-person' attitude. But there's definitely something special about it.

Once you're in there, paddling for dear life to catch up with your buddy, regularly rolling under the breakers or getting ripped from the board, the sea is a beast. It doesn't want you there, wants to dump you back on the sand. I knew standing up would be a struggle, most likely would never happen on my first day. I knew it would be tiring. I wasn't anticipating a David & Goliath-style battle of wits.

I expected the tide would be regular, like that part in Papillon where he counts the waves, times his leap and in doing so avoids the deadly rocks, instead being flumed harmlessly out to open sea and escape. This was not the case. Some waves were only feet apart, so that if you survive the first lashing, you find yourself scrambling in a trough, a bigger wave breaking right over you.

It's a weird feeling to be belly-deep in water one second, then be 15 feet from seabed the next. Or to be thrown from your board, the waves roaring over your head and the force of the wave dragging you by the ankle back towards shore. In 2 seconds you can be 30 feet closer to the beach, coughing and spluttering, stinging from the shock of the wave or maybe the board hitting you on the head as it's forced from the water.

Pretty soon we were all exhausted, and collapsed on our little spot of safety with a beer. For Lobsterboy it was simply hair of the dog, for us a hard-earned reward. As the tide died down and the waves got more crowded, Lobsterboypassed out, so Crabman and I went out together for a while, laughing at each other's misfortunes.

This time I felt different about the waves; less frightened yet more wary. Up to now I'd been fighting against the sea, and unless you're that guy with the blue penis in Watchmen, that's pretty much an unwinnable battle. Now I was treating it more like a difficult friend; employing techniques to get my way, treating it with caution and respect.

Being rushed towards the shore at an unexpected pace, I managed to stand for a brief, shining half-second before tumbling into the surf in a foot of water. Lobsterboy seemed to sense it, as he rose from his coma to witness the glorious moment.And yet, something overshadowed this shining day. As you all know, yesterday was Fathers' Day. This one was different for me, as rather than being the one who had to buy a card, I actually received a card.

But being away from Trousers Jr and Mrs Trousers was more difficult than I ever imagined it would be. It's difficult anyway, being so far away and knowing Mrs T is raising him pretty much single-handed.

But seeing young fathers on the beach with their sons, digging sandcastles and throwing balls? Yep, there was sand in my eyes yesterday. That must have been it.