Secret Spot

The details of my whereabouts are highly sensitive. Fully classified. On a need to know basis. I’m sorry; it’s not you, it’s me. I’d love to tell you more, I really would. I have no ownership rights; you probably deserve it more, but fate would not have it that way. Somehow, I’m in the loop. This loop will remain firmly closed – I will show you no pictures, tell you no names, leave no trace.

I won’t release this story until long after the time. I have every intention of obscuring even which country I’m in. I’ll lead you down the garden path into a false sense of knowing. Or maybe I’ll double bluff you? Perhaps what I write is not even real at all; a fantasy I have engendered in some irreverent attempt to fool you. Try and figure it out, I dare you.

Protectionism is a great irony in surfing. I want to immerse you, describe to you all the elements of beauty which define my location. Stories of the place, a history which makes it special. I want to tell you all about the ridiculously long waves, reeling perfection, noodle arms, vast scenery, abundance of sea life. But I can’t go into detail, or next time I turn up, I might see you there. It’s nothing against you, it’s just not the right time. I’m not ready for that. I need space. 

I have never been here before but this is my home. The emptiness juxtaposes the infinity of being on the edge of the world; I am full of nostalgia. There are more waves than people. By that I mean more than just waves unridden, we are dwarfed even by the number of set-ups. We could share, easily, but I just don’t want to. I see not even one seaside ambler. This place is mine. Except it’s not; it owns me and owes me nothing. 

I’ve already said too much. This is a fine line to tread, and I’ve erred largely on the side of telling you absolutely nothing. I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I just wanted to let you know. This place is fucking awesome. Your paradise is out there. I really hope you find it, but please, don’t find mine. One of the starkest charms of my paradise is that you are not here. It is unspoilt and uninterrupted. Osmosis connects me to the location; I take it with me and leave myself there. I am home.