In this regular column series, Bernie Shelly explores the strange, funny rituals of everyday surf life — from awkward line-up conversations and endless paddle-outs to bruised egos and near-collisions in the surf. At the centre is Ichabod: intense, stubborn and fiercely focused, the perfect foil for Bernie’s dry humour and sharp observations about friendship, etiquette and the absurd beauty of sharing waves with other people.
6. Surf Injuries.
The Black Knight in the ‘Monty Python and the Holy Grail’ movie is a metaphor. For me. No matter the injury, the knight kept coming back for more. Like me. As when the Long Beach shore break rammed my lower teeth right through just below my bottom lip. Right Through. I had to lift my lip up and over the teeth to free it. That was one of my more dramatic injuries albeit just a short-lived bout with annihilation.
Of course, Ichabod had much to say about that. And what’s more, he bought me a Gath. A Pink One. Pink. Which doesn’t cover my mouth, so there’s that.
Problem is I daren’t leave it at home because if I were to he’ll not speak to me. Which is almost as bad as the litany of What Could Happen if I didn’t wear it. (Brain damage is just the beginning.)
Or the string of What Could Happen if all the dangers lurking in the ocean were to —-
Ride into me. For example a beginner.
Slash my leg. For example a fin.
Slice the muscle off my arm. For example an over enthusiastic wild child.
Bite me. For example a seal.
Try to eat me. For example a shark
Crash into me. For example a SUP.
Run over me. For example a waveski.
Cut my head off. For example, a foil.
To avoid these sorts of mishaps Ichabod has urged me to (and I use the word ‘urged’ lightly):
Surf far away from surf schools.
Don’t leave your board where you can trip over it. Also, don’t carelessly fling yourself off your board on a fast and vicious wave.
Watch out for those enthusiastic sorts of surfers. You can spot them a mile off — they look extremely, carelessly, happy.
Get a rabies shot.
Wear a shark shield.
Stay clear of SUPs.
Stay away from surf-skis.
Stay even clearer — much, much clearer —- of foils.
I told him not to be such a damned Mother Hen, a vicarious version of hypochondriac, a pessimist. A fuddy-duddy. A ninny.
He does indignation very well and of course now he’s not talking to me.
Check in next week for more lessons with Ichabod.