Mashed with a capital Joy

Sometimes it's hard to tell if you're getting the ol' reed cane or a pat on the head from Dave. Were the massive bombs on Sat an attempted punishment for a perceived slight (maybe due to Dub's comsumption of nastee Conehead burger?) or reward for our religious zeal (in valiantly overcoming hardship of said non-tasty burger)? Either way it was a suitably awed gang of Dub, Serhio (Hatty?), Zombie, myself and burger posse rookie Luca that stood on the hill at Torquay and surveyed the majesty of Dave. Very regular sets, not many folk out, offshore winds and lots of size. Not as big as these, but without a jetski&life-vest&15years-of-big-wave-experience, big enough for us. At half tide the reef spit didn't offer much protection from pounding whitewater which made it a struggle to get out the back and even once you were there you'd only find a scared looking line-up bobbing over the 7+ foot lumps, watching alertly for the 9ft rogues that appeared every so often. If you could get one of these, white or otherwise, you were rewarded with a super quick ride all the way in. Dub was lapping it up in the middle, occasionally getting shot up in the air while wearing a huge grin and Serhio in his new bonnet was owning the shore break. Zombie gets the crazy/desperate award for venturing into the vic winter surf in only a rashy to get a last minute wave while I chase the irrepressible Luca (we *got* to get him a tiny board). We all retire for late Ripper Roast lunch and that evening Serhio proves to be a more than apt bean farmer and wallops us at bohnanza. Already anticipating next weekend!

Lockie