A bevy of Baberahams

This is what not froffin' out looks like. Dawn patrol and no waves.

There has been a Baberaham explosion this summer and my wildest dreams from a year ago have come true – a little surfing crew has been established. Yeow!! Last week there was a four-day Lorne lock-in and this time there were about 10 of us looking for waves. Sadly though Poseidon was not smiling upon us from the deep so didn’t deliver the clean sets we had hoped for. Instead for most of the time there was a choice of mooshy washing machine waves or flatty mcflatness. Nevertheless some of us tried our darnedest to surf. And sadly for me my ability seemed to go backwards rather than forwards. Dang.

THIS is froffin' out Doodlebum style

You’d think it would improve just by soaking up the Baberaham froffin’ force but instead I found myself experimenting with kneeboarding. And man, are my knees bruised. I’d manage one or two decent rides a session but for most of the time I felt like the fat kid in gym class. And the thing is a good surf is all a matter of what’s going on upstairs and not big guns and shoulders and athleticism (although that certainly helps. Bing! Bong!) As soon as negative chatter enters my head it all starts to go awry. My proudest surfing moment was managing to steer my board away from whacking a little girl on a boogie board on a wave a foot high. Sheesh!

Mad Dog making pizza. What. A. Man.

When the waves were dire the Baberahams had to find other activities. We made pizza. We danced. We talked surfing. We drank. We watched Morning of the Earth. We played tennis. We did crosswords. All the time quietly praying to Poseidon to show us some love.

The highlight of my weekend. An epic crossword session with Albatross.

And on the last day he did. Big bear hugs of waves. The type that tumble you around and you pop up, giggle and head on back out. At least that’s what everyone else did. It was a beautiful sunny day and I was in my saucy spring suit that I’d been busting to break out – it might make me surf better and sitting on my board with my arms and legs exposed would feel awesome. Well, the latter was definitely true. It was a bit of a struggle to get out the back but I made it and felt good but then ended up floating around like a turkey as the Baberahams paddled in and enjoyed smashing fun rides. We were at the same spot where I’d had my working over a few weeks back and my confidence completely evaporated. I paddled in and pulled out of waves flapping my arms like an un-co chicken for what felt like eons before finally going for one and getting rough and tumbled. Then I didn’t have enough strength to paddle out again. I was paddling and going backwards. Oh, the frustration. I even felt teary. Woah. Talk about emo-ing out. So, before having a meltdown I went into shore and I prayed to Poseidon to lift me from the depths of despair to my bruised knees and pop me to my feet froffin’ out with joy. Praise be! It will happen. There's no choice. Now I’m practising every morning – I roll out of bed, lay on my stomach and pop to my feet imagining the best Gillbraham Lincoln style I can muster. Dame cinco!