The Barefoot And Baffled Blog

They say that every cloud has got a silver lining. It’s one of these gems of folk-wisdom, like “good things come to those who wait”, “the grass is always greener on the other side”, and “better the devil you know”, all designed to make people grit their teeth, dig their heels in and put up with whatever shit situation they’re in instead of actually trying to do something about it.    In this particular case the cloud was pretty toxic. It passed over the whole world, infected and wiped out people at an alarming rate, and forced economies to grind to a standstill. Borders closed, businesses shut down in the single biggest economic downturn since the Great Depression of the 1930s, and people lost their jobs by the hundreds of thousands.    And I was one of those.    I was making a living teaching surfing, among other things such as kayaking and rockclimbing. The official directives were handed down from above, no human contact was allowed between anyone anywhere, and the entire indu

Surfing can be a highly individualistic thing to do. We focus on the wave we are going to ride, all our attention narrowly brought to bear on one thing only, the movement of the water, and how we are going to synchronise with it. The wind, the tide, the swell, the current, the shape, size and type of the board, all these things are important factors that contribute to our engagement with the living water of the ocean, but that engagement itself, that ultimate result of the harmonisation of all those contributing elements, happens between the ocean and one person only. As a broad general rule, not discounting such things as tow-ins. We might paddle out with our mates, and share time in between waves, and debrief afterwards; and, certainly, help each other pick up the pieces and deal with emergencies if and when required. But when push comes to shove, at the very heart of the matter, in the crux of the moment, by and large we are alone with the ocean, for the duration of that ride, howev