There are weeks and there are weeks.
For south eastern Australia what has been going on with the fires in our state has up to today overshadowed all thought of waves I've missed, or caught, or seen.
Not that I've managed much. Last weekend, to escape the hottest on record heat (47C), and while half the state burned, I headed to the coast with the Devil and tried to get a splash. Arrived at Bells, and seeing the wind direction, headed to Southside, which is, you guessed it, on the south side of the Bells headland.
A packed carpark revealed a wedding of all things about to go off, or get blown or burned off. It all felt like Armageddon up there, and a couple of hours up the road it really was the end of the world.
As Tom and I hot footed it down to the beach we passed a Scottish Piper, kilt, sporran and beet root face, trying to muster up enough wind to get the pipes a piping, though he looked as if he was about to do a good rendition of 'I'm a Little Teapot' instead of Amazing Grace. Out in the water the screaming offshore blew us off more waves than we caught, but it was cooler, and then much cooler as a force 9 gale otherwise known as the Cool Change, gave some relief where we were, but as it moved inland all it did was provide a wind change that fanned the inferno and killed a few more people.
Sunday, surf rubbish, all feeling flat as what had happened began to sink in, we popped into the skate park for the kids to have a muck around, some of it on a mountain board on the hill nearby, and then a quick splash for the kids in tiny waves at Lorne, Rod's son Benji taking his fins off and spinning, my Tom practiced his take offs.
The fires a week later are still burning, and Melbourne is shrouded in smoke.
The pics: Tom and Benji, ...and Tom from my iPhone on the mountain board, looking a bit like one of those wide angle from the water to the shore shots, except the wave is missing.