Solo travel, and the lost ring

I had a whole weekend to myself, time to spend however I wished. A rare and valuable thing. I dedicated it to independence, exploring and surfing on the Sunshine Coast, but it started badly. I was quite pleased with myself for packing the car the night before, and actually getting up when my alarm went off at 5am. I was even more pleased when I found my way to the surf breaks at Caloundra without using a map. I had a big grin on my face when, after checking several of the usual breaks along the Caloundra coastline, I found that Ann Street was both looking good *and* virtually empty. And just as I was waxing up my board in the carpark, by pure luck I bumped into a friend who was also about to paddle out. All good.

But.

A couple of waves into the session I got rolled by a steep, sucky one and when I came up for air and got back onto my board, my left hand felt a bit, well, wrong. It took no more than an instant to realise what was wrong. There was something missing, an absent, meaningful, never-ending circle, a lack of something to rap on the rail of my surfboard whilst waiting for a set... I looked down, but couldn't even see my feet through the water. I looked to the shoreline, saw the breakers, the white water and the swirling currents and I just deflated as I knew my wedding ring was not going to magically appear on the dry sand or float up next to me. I paddled out of the impact zone and sat up on my board out the back. Powerless, nothing I could do, wished I had bloody taken the thing off and left it in the car before paddling out, thought about just paddling back in and going home, calling the whole weekend off. It wasn't even 7am yet. I did a bit of looking around, stared at the ocean, swore, slapped my board. But life just goes on, the waves kept rolling in, and I knew that Skye would understand.

I surfed a few more waves, but my heart wasn't really in it and about an hour after I had paddled out I was back in the car park. Amusingly, just as I was rinsing off the salt water the rain came bucketing down leaving me no option but to stand around wet and getting wetter waiting for it to stop. Once the sun came out again, I got on the phone to Skye, told her what had happened and I was right that she immediately understood. "You know you've married the right girl when..."

And the weekend just got better and better from there on in :) I ate breakfast with friends, camped and made friends with the families on either side of my pitch, and I surfed twice in perfect conditions at Tea Tree Bay. I ate fish and chips sitting on the sandy shore of the Noosa River under the moon, I woke up to the sound of Corellas squawking at the dawn, and I caught up with more friends for a beer on the way home. I surfed each session for as long as I wanted, staying in the water for a personal record of 3 hours on Sunday morning, and I saw the most vivid rainbow I've ever seen, sitting up on my board at Tea Tree Bay, 6:30am Sunday morning, the full, unbroken arch touching the surface of the water on both sides of the bay. If only a pod of dolphins had swum through it :)

The thing I most enjoy about time spent on my own is finding out what I'll actually do. For instance, it's all very well *saying* that I'll get up at 5am to go surfing - but to then actually do it when there's no-one else around to witness it tells you a bit about yourself. While I was eating my fish and chips with only a home-brew beer for company on Saturday night, I thought about the weekends I spent camping solo in the Black Mountains in Wales. I used to drive off to Wales with something on my mind, take the weekend at my own pace, and emerge from the forest, mountains and motorways tired but relaxed, with a sense of peacefulness and an increased confidence in my independent abilities. There's something about going on a journey, traveling on your own. I feel exactly that same after my weekend on the Sunshine Coast, except the aches and pains are all in my shoulders and back rather than in my legs :)

...but don't misunderstand me here. I would have loved to have had Skye and Levi there with me to see the rainbow, to enjoy a relaxed breakfast by the beach, and to see the Koala in his usual tree in the national park. But with the pair of them in New South Wales, it would have been criminal to miss my chance for some solo travel.

Back in Brissy, the rain's bucketing down but it's hot and steamy all through the night. I've somehow got more to do each evening than there's time for, and I've happily got computer parts spread all over the lounge floor as I chip away at the old media centre PC I'm rebuilding. Skye sends me photos and videos from her mobile each day, but I can't wait to see them both again soon.