Top 5 Things I've Learned Living Coastal

Camp Rad is rad

On Saturday it was a year since I picked up the keys to Camp Rad and unloaded the 3 tonne truck with Beyonce blaring. It's been a pretty interesting year. As I am fond of having a quiet beer in the backyard after a surf, I've been thinking about the move so here it is...

1. Smiling like a crazy person out in the line-up works ... eventually
I'm stupidly happy about owning a surf shack so close to the water. When I paddle out at my local break I'm so stoked when I realise once again it's my local break. So I grin like a loon.

For a while the old salties would blankly stare back but after persistent crazy smiling, a few 'Gorgeous day, isn't it?!'s and keeping out of their way on the waves, I became mates with two of the coolest dudes out there. The man who looks like his dog (aka Duncan) and Brendan (aka Rodney).

The other day Brodney even paddled in from perfect waves to go to his surf truck and bring back a board of his he said I just had to try. The board was called Big Dog. 'Nuff said.

Brodney is the saltie on the shore with his 13ft board

2. My penchant for a surfer tradie grows stronger
One of my favourite weekday past times is doing the grocery shopping at Torquay. Let me tell you, there is some eye candy to be had in the tea and coffee aisle. And don't even get me started at the checkout - no magazine reading for me. Eeeeeyyyyes up! I will happily be Goldicocks and try all the tradies (just quietly, I've tried a couple already) until I find one juuuuust right. I'm sure he's out there loitering in a surf carpark or the dairy section... I'll keep lookin'.

3. Winter nights are long
What harmlessly starts as a 'Oh it's cold, why not just throw on my fox onesie, have a glass of goon and relax' can easily downward spiral into a wine-stained onesie, an empty goon box and 'Oh god, I'm in my mid-30s and wearing a onesie'. Next winter I'll have to have a friend on onesie alert. It's a slippery slope, I tells ya.

It started out innocently enough... 

4. It's time to cool my jets
Yes, this godforsaken shoulder injury that won't go away has forced me to cool my jets. I'm still struggling with it - and there's been nothing Bodhi-like about me some days when I've been watching perfect longboarding waves and in too much pain to go in. Anger and sadness and lotsa swearing. I've now seen nine different health practitioners of various disciplines and all of them have said the same thing, 'Stop being gung ho and chill the eff out' (my words, not theirs). I'm trying. If I can't surf, I may as well hula hoop so I've bought one of those.

5. Locals are a tough crowd
I've made some solid gold mates down here (Emu, my 60 year old neighbour, entertained us with dance moves on Saturday night - walking stick pointed to the ceiling and finger gun with the other hand.. genius) ... but I've got a loooong way to go before I can dance walk into the Bird Rock on a Friday night and feel at home. That's okay though, it's only be four months of full-time coastal living and friend recruitment drive is about to amp up for summer. Look out!

First day of summer!