Light

[andygates]

New year surf was all about the light: frost-covered sand glowing blue in the dawn dune shadows; a low, clear, golden winter sun picking all the detail out of the cliffs; bar after bar of wave-machine perfect foam like regiments of butterscotch, spray glittering off the top of each breaker, rainbows following after. And then, once hands were unable to grip the board any more, it was all about steam and shivering.  Hot chocolate and gingerbread and pasties, and plumes of steam from de-suited surfers suddenly reminded that the air was at freezing, even if the water was relatively balmy.