Well I hope the Festive Season was a happy one for all and not too stacked with the lunacy and angst that usually accompanies the end of the year.

My main hope, though, for all of you who read this, and all of you who don't, is that it has been safe. 

For us... we risked life and limb on a drive to Mordor, my name for a beloved stretch of coast, a chance to catch up with some dear old friends and their boys, who I love dearly, having watched them rise from twinkles in an eye to twinkly eyed young men. My two young men have grown up with them so this reunion of sorts was heartening and sobering too. Time has really flown.

In the village at the Trading Company, Old Bill continues to cast his sea crackled eye at the passing throng, throws out the odd nugget of wisdom, and even the odd hug, as he near squeezed a tear from my eye in memory of my Dear Old Dad. Good on you Billy. I was very touched.

One morning, too, we were gifted with some cracking waves, a little gap in a bit of a horror run typical of this time of year, what with early morning onshores and small swells.

Banks everywhere and one very sucky, hollow right was mine! mine!! mine!!! for an hour or two at the bottom of one of the most rugged shorelines on the earth. Jagged, angular and near beach less, but breathtaking too. I could go on. Suffice to say it was not perfect but perfect moments don't need to be.

To sit out there, gaze at the constantly shifting horizon and just be... was the best present I could imagine.

Pics today, some snaps of a divine morning, courtesy of being at the right place at the right time.

This time last week the weather was wild.

Relentless bands of lightning storms, so distant they were silent. I had a camera, albeit an inexpensive one, and a yen to experiment.

This meant happy accidents became the method to my madness as I'd have to be mad to expect anything sharp, but luck can play into you hands.. After all, with digital, all you lose is a press of a button.

So out on the front porch for a few minutes, ducking the rain and trying to hold still leaning on a pole, the usual 'how the hell do I do this?' internal questions coupled with incomplete mastery of my tools resulting in a couple of shots that I like for their painterly oddball-ness.

It was fun, and as I've heard said before by a slightly crazed friend, fun is the key. The more Jackson Pollock of the two came about as I thought the shutter had closed and I'd wandered about, camera in hand.

Soon they may stink, the test of time a bitter mistress, but having a noodle with an idea... playing... well it beats lying down with unseeing eyes staring at the lid of a box, and if you cant' play, then go for a walk.

Which leads me to my next digression in this ramble.

Going for a walk has meant my eyes have been on the ground saving me from tripping, stepping in dog do and/or falling off a cliff.

It does lead you to the bottom of them though and there I found the 'split in two' rock on the left in the pic below. It was in western Spain at the eastern edge of Playa Rodiles, the home of a ridiculous left, and the former home of large gatherings, as I was about to discover, of ammonites, a nautilus like shellfish, though that was around 300 million years back. On a hunch I'd thrown it hard to the ground, breaking it open. Inside was this ammonite, my distant cousin, via an even more distant shared ancestor. 

An ain't life wonderful moment.

A couple of years later, some k's inland from the Moroccan coast near Agadir, at an altitude of maybe 600ft, a glance towards the path side cliff face revealed a not very fresh oyster. I have yet to research the geology of the spot but I bet old Bishop Usher is well off his creation of the world date of 6000 odd years back as this particular mollusc bit the bullet well before Adam was a boy.

That too was an ain't life wonderful moment, bitter sweet in a way though as I love oysters and this one looked like it was a beauty. 

Once.

Why am I going on with all this?

I suppose just a couple of examples of being in the moment.

You never know what you might see, or have fall into your lap, or wished you'd eaten when you had the chance... when you were an ammonite.

Pics for today: Experiments, rocks, and Winki a couple of days back, the first good waves in a few weeks,  hungry crowd just out of the frame.

Little adventures present themselves occasionally, and should be treasured when they land thudding in your lap.

On Friday a lunchtime phone call offering a chance to surf a not so secret but very hard to access wave that I'd last surfed maybe thirty five years back was not to be sniffed at. 

The winds were not quite right, with the anticipated crowds far different to those encountered when we'd sneak in through an army base risking arrest and board confiscation way back when... but I still said yes.

How was it? Not perfect, but still pretty epic. The crowd was testy, the wind was up, and most surfers were way more at ease with it even though I will guarantee I first surfed it well before many of them were born. 

How did I go? Not as well as I'd have liked, and not as bad as I might have, though if I am brutally honest with myself you could say I copped a flogging but kept a smile.

It was so beautiful just to be there it was worth the submarine tours of the sandbank.

I need to go back, re-acquaint myself with the place, perhaps earn a place in the youthful lineup and learn how to pig-dog with more finesse.

Pics. Into the glare. Had no clue what I was shooting until I got home. Thanks for the ride Marky.

It's been a bit of a busy week in Reef Land as both Liquid Notes, the Making of The Reef, and the ABC's broadcast of the Opera House performance have hit the airwaves, and we've been in the edit suite revisiting a few bits, just because we can, and we have the time. 

I've been working with Jonny Frank and Ed Saltau (check his site for some great stuff from the Reef), sitting in our little room, improving on some dreams...after all a good painting is rarely ever completely finished. 

Naturally all this with a view to a near Reef Redux in time for the February East Coast Tour.

Watching the broadcast of the performance I found particularly difficult as I am very close to it, know every moment and so when the cameras cut away from the vision to show the orchestra it was doing my head in, as, naturally, there is meaning invested in every visual and to have it missed was killing me.

Not that I didn't watch it through to the end as catching close up Richard and the rest of the orchestra do their thing gave me other insights that were precious in themselves.

The morning of the Opera House broadcast I spent half an hour on Radio Marinara having a chat with Bron and the team, which was a lot of fun. On hearing the podcast later I had at least managed to sound relaxed, which is a good thing, as sometimes I get a bit tongue tied with a microphone under my nose.

Other than that, very little surf to report, apart from a session at Phillip Island a couple of weeks back that was rewarded with the shot below, and a couple less flattering as my 58 year old tummy is not a six pack any more.. probably because of too many similarly named beverages.

Life. If you can't laugh....

Yesterday saw the end of a long run of great waves and balmy weather.

I'd had things to do most of the day, thankfully, but the late evening check of the water surprised me. Not many out, quite small, but glassy and beautiful too. 'Why not!' I thought, so a quick hour before dark delighted.

I'd taken out my hull, a 6'6" trimming machine. It sort of takes the pressure off. You really just have to go with what the wave dishes up, fly around sections, style a bit, (pause while I stop laughing) and relax. 

The light as the sun shot occasionally through the low clouds was just short of divine, though on one wave the divinity factor shot through the roof, that or someone had slipped me something mildly psychedelic. Trimming along with fingers tracing the chest high lip line, wafts of spot lit spray were coming off the wall ahead. Embedded in them were little saturated rainbows, bright and proud agains the dark blue grey of the cloud reflected water.

As I said in a post a way back... 'the things I see, the things I see'.

A magic dusk, perfect for the festoon of grommits who'd paddled out for afterschool confections far sweeter than a bag of lollies. 

Pics: One lucky guy's solo session further up the reef past Bells, and what was on offer at Winki.

Orawa and other things.

After a request from the Australian Chamber Orchestra to put online (for overseas 'interests') a couple of specific snippets from the Reef a week or so back I uploaded what we call Orawa, named after the music behind it, composed by Wojciech Kilar.

It's one of my favourites, mainly because it took me a fair bit of pain to edit, some 46 hours or so, and perhaps too because there is a certain hypnotic quality to the cut, and the music. It is intended in its positioning in the film as a whole to be a transition from an extended exploration of the inland... back to the sea. After the protracted dry you certainly won't get any wetter unless you jump in yourself.

As to this past week or so, there have been a couple of days of good waves, I've been plugging away at my various 'projects', the world economy is slow and don't I know, but progress is a happening and I have optimism buds a blossoming. We are about to re enter the edit suite for a couple of weeks to do a bit of tweaking for the Reef East Coast Tour. My magazine project now has two partners, one editorial, and one business. A design college is interested in me doing some teaching. Next year looks like it will be full.

Now if only I can convince my darling wife Sue the coast is a nice place to live, even for a city girl from London. So far it is a big ask.

(Sigh)

Today's pics a from a wander to a favourite cliff edge during a a windy day earlier this week. I like watching the wisps off the backs of waves in a blow. Black and white suits I think. All very low key, plus some sticks, and Orawa at the end. ( click on it to watch full screen.. it is worth it, just settle in to the windmill and relaxxxx)

Once this is posted it's onshore slop for me... a slight change from Bells a couple of days back, also included.

Orawa from Mick Sowry on Vimeo.

We're into a run of on shore winds. 

Moments flicker where a wave can be ridden, though my chances have been sabotaged largely as work and family take priority. 

Last week was a little different. I had Richard Tognetti of the ACO down for a holiday so we could combine work and the odd surf in some pretty tasty conditions.

Surfing being the new golf we really could claim productive time as we talked through some tickles to The Reef, and managed to catch some mighty fine waves too.

As the Sydney Concert of The Reef is going to be telecast on Australia's ABC next month, and a making of documentary shown the preceding week, I thought it time to give another, extended, taste. More challenging this time. After a delightful blast of Rameau's Les Boreades with Ryan Burch's windy artistry on an unglassed piece of polystyrene, we explore the darker inner land of The Reef with interpretations of Ligeti's Ramifications, and George Crumb's Night of the Electric Insects.

With hundreds of viewings of the closing scenes I am convinced ants speak English in antennae code. It's quite clear they are all saying "honey honey honey honey honey honey honey"

Pic to accompany the clip. Winki last Wednesday. I was getting barrelled at Bells.

Les Boreades/Ramifications/Electric Insects from Mick Sowry on Vimeo.