On a stormy morning before easter, a few hungry souls gathered on a beach at dawn. Over steaming coffee they discussed the tide and swell direction and the day before, until inevitably a wave detonated over the slab-like sandbank. The sea had beckoned and it was time.
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| "Come out and play," beckoned the sea. |
The deliberation was over and they spread themselves into the mayhem and jostled to be the first. And without warning, the morning slipped into routine: wave, run back up the beach, punch through the shorey, back out for another.
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| Cliffi sets up on a gem. |
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| Watchful eyes were entertained by a tricky inside. |
And the glassy sea kept delivering hypnotic games.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Until at last the trance was broken. The sea had had enough, drowning the sandbank with reclusiveness.
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| Lloyd slips into wave of the day. |
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| Salty in the action... |
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| ...and on run to get some more. |
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| This growler chased me right up the beach. |
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| A perfect wall of shred. |
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| Exploring how thick the lip really is. |
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