A day at the beach

From the cliff top over Godrevey Beach, Cornwall, Sean listened to the familiar roar of the Atlantic rollers in the distance and the screeching of the seagulls in the sky. He used to come here all the time with his brother Jim before the Afghan war estranged them. It had been a long time since he was last here. The sunshine sparkled on a six-foot swell today, the light wind blowing straight off the sea. He watched surfers riding the tubes of long waves from right to left and left to right. Black rocks covered in green slime and seashells congregated near the cliffs but then there was a vast flat expanse leading to the ocean. To his right, he could see Godrevey's lighthouse standing on a small island and exposed to the full force of the Atlantic storms when they came.

The tourists were out in force. Toddlers, only just able to walk, strolled hand in hand with their mums and dads and dipped their toes in leftover pools of water. Sean smiled at the giggles of delight emanating from these. He wore beach socks with plastic soles on the sharp stones of the rocky path. The narrow path was brown dirt at the top but became more sandy the further down you went. The traffic was all downward as midday approached.

By the foot of the cliff, Sean's surfboard was feeling heavy and he was sweating in the black wetsuit top he wore. He always put it on before going down because otherwise sand got inside it and there was chaffing from that in the waters and because he hated to ask for help with the zip on the back. Besides he did not like people staring at all the scars on his back, bullet wounds from the life behind him and scars from Ahmed, his Taliban torturer, in an Afghan cave.

There were already many people there but it was a big beach with plenty of space. At the foot of the cliff, a small clean stream flowed toward the Atlantic rollers.

The tide was turning. Most of those entering the beach chose a place just above the wet water line of flattened darker sand dampened by the previous tide from last night to lay their towels. Here the sand was hot and yellow in the sun. It was fluffy enough to lie on and safe from the coming tidal deluge in a few hour's time. There was a cooling breeze from the sea, but the day was the hottest of the year so far and getting warmer all the time.

Sean was momentarily distracted by a leggy blonde removing a flowery blue and white sarong from her legs and then lying down on her front on top of a beach towel dressed only in a blue bikini. She undid the straps of her bikini top as she did so. She smiled up at the man with her, her left hand holding up the sunscreen. He took the yellow bottle and squirted some of the white creamy lotion onto his hands then he caressed her as he added the lotion. Sean saw the contentment on her face as the man's hands lingered on her smooth skin. Sean looked away, remembering the old adage that the difference between normal attention and lust was how long you looked. Besides the ocean was calling to him now.

He removed his beach socks storing them in a zipped pocket in his jacket and walked barefoot toward the ocean. He knew the seawater would be colder and with the wind especially, hence the neoprene top and shorts. The sand felt good beneath his toes and was slightly damp. Occasional shallow pools and tiny rivulets crossed the otherwise perfectly flat landscape, the sun sparkled in the pools. He splashed through them. The water was warm in these from the sunshine. It took a while to reach the breakers. Scattered across the waters before him surfers in black suits bobbed up and down and lifeguards were there in attendance with megaphones.

He greeted the spent force of his first wave and moved deeper. Lying down on his front he started paddling strongly out, his fingers tight together to save energy and maximize his pull. As the first white crest rose above him, he watched as two surfers to his right paddled furiously to try and hit it. One timed it wrong and did not catch any speed, so he turned his board back outwards. The other hit the wave with a whoop of delight and stood up turning across it. Sean observed how he expertly worked his surfboard. Sean dived his own board under the swell, kicking through it and rising on the other side.

Sean could taste the salt now and looked around. Surfers were paddling or sitting on boards waiting for white horses. The waters were darker, greener and colder here than nearer the beach. It was quieter here also, the surfers were mainly content with the silence and focused on their own experience of the ocean. But there was one group a boyfriend and girlfriend who chattered excitedly together, their laughter crossed the waters between them like a love song from a time forgotten. Sean used to come with his brother Jim to this beach years before usually with women in tow. That was before Afghanistan and Ahmed.

The tourists were a trek away now on the dry sand at the top of the beach and a thinner line of paddlers nearer still. But there was no one waiting for him there, no bikini-clad beauty reading a magazine while lying on a beach towel. He felt the ache in his heart, ignored it, turned back to the waves and started to read the patterns.

The rollers were coming in sets of three today with the first one in the set the largest. He timed the interval for a while which was roughly six seconds between each swell with an extra two-second pause between sets. The peaks were completely irregular appearing all over the place but giving good tubular waves on a regular basis. As each wave set completed, he waited, looking out for the next set. A big one was coming and he saw a peak forming right in front of him. He would not be the only surfer trying for this one. Four or five scrambled to get into position. But he had a better line than them and as waters rose to peak he paddled furiously to hit the perfect spot turning into the momentum of the flood. The others did not make it or conceded when they saw he had the prime position. He gathered speed lying flat on the board and then rose to stand on the board keeping his center of gravity low, hanging loose, his muscled legs bent and he sped down the wave turning to the right, gathering momentum as he did. Running across it, leaning into it, he rode up and down the wave increasing his speed, he rose to the peak flipping a 360 on the board at the last moment back down to slide through into the tunnel as the waters curved to break above him. The sunshine glistened on a green- blue wall of water and he held out his hand touching the wave gently with his fingers. As it collapsed he turned to the beach riding the rough water and then stepping back letting the waters pass under him. What a perfect start he thought.

With that, he was hooked and the child-like voice in his head was screaming 'again, again.' He turned his board and paddled back out.

It was several hours before he admitted to himself that it was time to go in. He took the second wave in a set because the first was now too crowded from all the surfers that had come to greet the incoming tide at the warmest time of the day. He hit it right and rode it to the beach. Three young women in tiny bikinis smiled at him as he rose from the waters carrying his board, Sean felt tired and decided he would go straight back to his car parked on the hill above the cliffs.

He kept walking, it was not the same without Jim here with him but it had been fun. Things had been better then, the laughter flowed and it was easy just to be alive. He missed that, yearned for that but they had gone their separate ways many years before. Sean had joined the army, served in Afghanistan, and seen too much of the wrong kind of sand and rocks, the kind without Cornish waves. He saw the woman in the blue bikini again and this time he saw the man that was with her. It was his younger brother Jim and he was waving to him. He must have a new girlfriend he thought to himself, feeling glad now that he had not looked at her too hard on the way down to the beach but reflecting she was hot enough to have made him miss his brother completely, so well done, Jim. He waved back feeling suddenly awkward. What's it been, three years, no five years since they had spoken on the telephone? He'd been on a special op and well people had died and his head had not been in the conversation. They had not spoken since.

Jim stood and approached him. He took his board and planted it in the sand beside them. Jim hugged him and it felt like centuries of pain melted away. Two brothers back on the beach. He sat down and Jim introduced Sarah. Sean shook her hand noticing the ring on her finger.

"Married?", Sean asked looking at Jim.

Jim shook his head, "No engaged, just last week. What are the odds we would meet like this? I have been meaning to reconnect. Why did we even lose contact in the first place?"

Sean shrugged, "The war I guess, I could never talk with you about it, but that's all over now and I guess I am wondering what it was all for..." Sean stopped, an image of Ahmed's face grinning maliciously at him in his mind's eye. But then his brother interrupted the flow of dark images.

"Hey bro, we are all proud of you and pleased you came back in one piece. Hottest day of the year, with surf like this I guess it makes sense we would both be here though."

"Yeh, great minds think alike. Hey, I did a 360 and a tube run in the same ride." Sean smiled and the darkness was gone.

Sarah laughed and said, "We saw! I got you on camera doing that when Jim said who you are, your first wave was the best one. You should set it to music and post it."

Sarah moved close to share the mobile video. She smelt good, like salt, sand and peaches but Sean looked up at his brother who smiled down at him. Reading his thoughts Jim even winked at him. Sean grinned back. He would not break the bro-code and Jim was safe to leave his girlfriend with him.

"Hey, can I borrow your board and neoprene for a few waves? Perhaps you can help Sarah guard our place on the beach, and show her a few army tricks on how she can do that." Sean looked around, there was plenty of space.

He laughed and waved at his board, "Go have fun. You can buy me a beer later."

"Done, " said Jim. Sarah helped undo Sean's neoprene and he handed it to Jim, careful not to get any sand inside it. He knew that both Jim and Sarah saw his scars, but somehow it did not matter with family and he appreciated that they said nothing about them.

Jim left them there chatting about nothing in particular and everything that mattered, watching the waves, faces in the sea breeze, eyes shining in the sunshine.


Notes ▼

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