Ocean Rules

by Kate McMahon

  ‘You know, sometimes talking to someone you have no connection to can be a big help. The amount of baggage I’ve unleashed on strangers would fill an aircraft,’ the lady laughs. She pats the space on the bench next to her.

  Jaspa takes a seat and offers her hand. ‘I’m Jaspa, lovely to meet you.’

  ‘Likewise, Jaspa. I’m Rosie. Rosie Kay.’ She points towards the surfboard on the grass. ‘Is that yours? Are you in the competition?’

  Jaspa stares down at her board, the inanimate object that’s caused her equal measures of pleasure and pain over the past month. ‘Yeah, it’s mine. I’m competing, but I … well … sometimes I feel like I just don’t belong here, you know?’

  ‘Well, yes. I’ve been watching some of it, as my granddaughter is in the event. She’s only thirteen, it’s her first year. There are a lot of talented surfers this season, is that what’s bothering you?’

  ‘No. I mean, yes, kind of.’ Jaspa props her knees up against her chest and wraps her arms around them. ‘It’s not that I don’t think I can surf as well as them. I mean, I used to think I couldn’t, but it seems I can … it’s just, I’m wired differently to the other competitors. They seem to have an agenda; training, strategies … all I want to do is surf. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for all of the rules.’

  ‘Jaspa, I can relate to your feelings more than you know.’ Rosie is smiling, and nods before drawing in a deep breath. ‘I was a surfer in the seventies. I could’ve had it all. I was winning almost every event I entered, and starting to attract interest from sponsors wanting to take me on the professional tour. But before it even began, I walked away.’

  Jaspa is mesmerised. She doesn’t want to seem pushy, but she needs to know more. ‘What happened? Where did you go?’

  Rosie clasps her hands, folding her fingers over the wrinkles in her knuckles, and rests them in her lap. ‘I climbed up onto my high horse and galloped off to Byron Bay to be a hippie. I didn’t think it was possible to be a competitive surfer and a soul surfer all in one.’

  Jaspa’s mouth drops open in disbelief. ‘That’s exactly what’s in my head right now!’ she squeals, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand.

  ‘Well, let me tell you, while I don’t regret moving to Byron and meeting my husband and having a beautiful daughter, I now believe you can do both. You can put your soul and your own flavour into all aspects of surfing.’ The lines around Rosie’s eyes fold into kind creases and she rests a hand on Jaspa’s knee. ‘That’s something I tell my granddaughter. Every surfer is an individual, there is no right or wrong. Just stay true to yourself and all will be perfect.’

  ‘Do you have any regrets?’

  ‘I’ve never been out of Australia. I gave up the chance to travel the world and experience all it has to offer. That’s definitely something I wish I hadn’t walked away from.’

  ‘So you’re saying I could be on the world tour, but do it my way?’

  ‘If that’s what makes you feel good, then it sounds like a pretty great plan to me.’

  Jaspa flops back against the bench and smiles. ‘I have always wanted to go to Hawaii, and Malibu and Brazil,’ she ponders. ‘Especially if that means going with my best friends. I can’t believe I let myself get so upset about this,’ she says, swinging her legs to propel herself forward. ‘I’m such an emo!’

  ‘I’m not sure what that is, but you are what you are, and that’s all you need to remember.’

  Jaspa bends down to give Rosie a hug, then picks up her surfboard and strides towards the tent.

  Carolyn is leaning on the beach side of the fence. ‘Hey, yo, where’ve you been?’

  ‘Oh, there was a massive line for the loo, took ages,’ Jaspa lies.

  Carolyn takes Jaspa’s surfboard so she can climb over the fence. ‘Tyler’s about to surf his quarter final, and yours isn’t long after that. Dude, everyone thought you were gonna miss it.’

  She smiles, jumping from the rail onto the sand. ‘Nah, I’m just on Jaspa time.’

  #16

  Tyler paddles furiously into his first wave of the heat. His three opponents watch as he takes off on a hollow left-hander, squats low, cuts into a speedy bottom turn and then sprays a massive backside manoeuvre. Not shifting from his low stance, Tyler performs two more risk-taking turns and ends the wave with a deep six-second sand barrel. As he’s shot forward from beneath the cover of water, he screams, ‘Yeah!’ and pumps his fist towards the judges.

  Opinion blares from the speakers declaring Tyler’s the stronger surfer of this heat, and a likely shoo-in to go the whole way in this competition. The judges agree, rewarding him with a 9.8 and the crowd goes nuts, with his family screeching and whistling from the sand.

  As he’s paddling back out, Tyler sees the surfer in blue get an impressive ride, achieving a combination of three solid turns and popping an aerial to complete the wave. When Tyler hears his opponent’s score of 8.5, he clenches his teeth tight enough to shatter them. There’s no way he’s allowing this kook to beat him.

  All Tyler needs is a second placing in this heat and he’ll secure enough points to qualify for the junior tour. But he’s hungry for a win, the glory of a win. The announcement that Cooper had progressed to the semi finals plays over in Tyler’s mind, leaving him breathless and more psyched than ever. The plan, ever since joining the Bonita Shores Boardriders when the boys could barely stand on a surfboard, is to both qualify for the World Junior Tour. Neither has considered the possibility that only one of them might make it.

  Tyler stays within half a metre of the challenger in blue at all times. They hassle each other into rides, which only attract scores in the low range. The other two competitors go wave-for-wave on the smaller right-hand break, their average six-point scores not even on Tyler’s radar. A set approaches, and Tyler paddles to the far right of his rival to get himself into position. With a smirk on his face and a boost of adrenaline, he strokes into the five footer, rising with the thick wall of water ready to set himself up for the biggest wave of the day so far, sure to be a heat winner. Grabbing the outside rail of his surfboard, Tyler soars down the water feeling like he’s speed-bombing a hill on his skatey. For a few seconds he has a clear view of the direction he wants to take, an overhead blanket of blue outstretched like an empty highway. He stamps on his front foot to gain speed then gasps as a thick section of the wave suddenly shuts down, the lip smacking him into the shallow sand bank and holding him there for several seconds. The surfer in blue is far enough down the line to take off in perfect position, and puts on a dynamic display of power surfing that sees him rewarded with eight points from the judges.

  Tyler pushes himself off the sand and swims furiously to the surface. He fills his lungs just before the set of waves strikes him back down. Pulling on his leg-rope, he draws his board towards him, hops on and paddles strongly towards the back of the line-up.

  The scores are announced, and although Tyler has clocked up the highest single wave of the heat, his best two-wave combination has him only in third place. Panic floods him as his watch blinks – there are only four minutes remaining in the heat. Tyler swears and aggressively kicks his legs to power-paddle back into position. Straddling his surfboard, all he can do is wait for his elusive last ride. He punches the water in frustration as the surfers placed first and second turn Tyler’s tactics against him, sitting less than a metre away, ready to challenge his every movement.

  Back on the beach, the commentary team feed off the drama and wind up the crowd like a yo-yo. Surf journalists take particular interest in the heat, knowing that an upset like this is sure to attract a punchy headline and plenty of online shares.

  Jaspa and her family scream encouragement from their tent, fearing that Tyler’s about to hit the post of his lifelong goal.

  ‘C’mon Huey, give us a set!’ Anthony bellows through cupped hands, calling on the surfing god.

  ‘Tyler Ryder is in third place. He needs a 3.5 to get into second, or a 7.5 to move into first
,’ the commentator blares over the loudspeaker.

  Jaspa hugs her mum around the shoulders and buries her head against her neck. ‘He should just take off on anything, he can get that score with his eyes shut!’ she says.

  Tyler feels a tightness in his chest, a sense of urgency. He allows one of his opponents to hassle him out of two waves that roll through, knowing they’ll shut down again, leaving him without enough time to return to the back of the line-up.

  A small right-hander makes its way towards the shallows. Looking at his watch, Tyler realises he needs to take this ride, no matter what. Only forty seconds remain in the heat. All he needs to qualify for the launch pad of his surfing career is a 3.5 – just two of his most average turns. That should be a cinch, and he’s absolutely pumped to end this heat with the most magnificent and nail-biting climax of the competition so far.

  Tyler knows he’s the better surfer, with the ability to take off deeper than the others, so he scoots himself into position and jumps to his feet with the confidence of someone who plans to tear the wave apart. Racing to avoid the shut-down section, Tyler leans hard into a stylish turn at the bottom of the wave that generates so much speed, the ensuing dynamic top turn he sets himself up for will be enough on its own for the required score. He shifts weight to his front foot to swivel the board around, but as he returns the pressure to his back foot to slice his fins through the breaking water, he slips on the wax and collapses onto his board with a thud. His body is flung over the falling lip and he’s tumbled underwater like a ragdoll, his pro-surfing hopes breaking with the wave itself.

  #17

  ‘Should we go and talk to him?’ Jaspa asks her mum, having just witnessed Tyler’s meltdown on the beach in front of the judges’ area – and the world, it seems, given the amount of phones that were held up to capture the moment. Jaspa wonders how two humans can be created by the same people but turn out so differently. Perhaps he got her share of the hothead gene?

  ‘No, let’s leave him be. And don’t take it to heart if he doesn’t want to talk about it,’ Ellen says, dusting sand off her water bottle and taking a delicate sip before changing the subject. ‘How’s Mel doing? This is her quarter final, yes?’

  Jaspa takes off her oversized sunglasses and squints towards the ocean at the girls’ competition area. ‘Yep. She’s doing okay, I’m pretty sure. Carolyn?’ she asks her friend, who’s folded forward in a stretch.

  ‘Yeah, looks like she’ll romp it in. There’s only a minute to go,’ Carolyn replies while gripping her ankles.

  The siren sounds and Jaspa claps, happy for Mel’s win and relieved, too – that’s one less of the known fire-starters in her life whose emotions could blaze out of control because of a surfing contest. ‘Let’s go down and congratulate her,’ Jaspa suggests. ‘We’ll be back soon, Mum, my quarter final is in about an hour.’ She takes Carolyn by the hand and runs to the shore.

  ‘Ready?’ Jaspa asks, submerging her arms in the water. Carolyn nods and they wait until Mel is a few feet away before pelting her with sand drops.

  ‘Right biatches, you’re goin’ down!’ Mel screams, ditching her surfboard and freeing her hands for retaliation.

  They dive under the breaking waves together to wash off and Carolyn places her hands on her knees to catch her breath. ‘Nice surfing, Mel, you dominated that heat. I’ve gotta shoot, I’m in the third quarters. Any tips?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t always go for the sets – some of ’em are closing out,’ Mel advises, tucking her board back under her arm.

  Jaspa and Mel wish Carolyn luck as she jogs up the beach to collect her competition vest. ‘That’s what Tyler just struggled with, the closeouts,’ Jaspa says as she walks with Mel to the officials’ area. She’s dumbfounded that people like Tyler and Mel can even try to predict something like winning a competition when it hinges on something as unpredictable as a breaking wave.

  ‘Wait, you mean he didn’t make it?’ Mel stops, grabbing Jaspa’s arm. ‘I thought he was a dead cert for his heat.’

  Jaspa hangs her head, feeling the weight of her brother’s disappointment and struggling to work out how she can console him without sounding condescending. ‘He was ripping, absolutely ripping, but he started hassling and seemed to lose it a bit out there.’ The girls walk slowly up the beach, a fog of sorrow following them. ‘He would’ve just scraped through but he fell on his last ride. He only needed a 3.5.’

  ‘Man, that’s so heavy. So he can’t qualify now?’

  Jaspa shakes her head. ‘Nope, I think it’s over. He’ll have to do all the local comps and try again next year.’

  ‘Seriously, Jaspa, I feel way bad for Tyler, but you should stay the hell outta his way for the rest of the day. You don’t want him ruining your surfing story.’

  Jaspa nods sadly. She knows she’s the last thing Tyler needs right now – and vice versa.

  ***

  Jaspa stares at the closed bathroom door. As soon as her quarter final had finished, she bolted straight back to the house to be alone, her guilt following closely behind.

  Jaspa cradles two bits of paper in the palm of her hand. She stares at them blankly.

  Talk to him, he needs you.

  Leave him be, he’ll come to you when he’s ready.

  Heaviness weighs in her chest, that feeling of not being able to help someone, especially when they’re forever pushing you away. Her brother has had his hopes crushed, and she’s scared to utter two words to him. She wants to wrap her arms around him and reassure him that everything will be okay, that this must’ve happened for a reason. Humph, that’d go down as well as a broken elevator.

  Tyler has had his sights firmly fixed on being a pro surfer since his first contest win, when he was just nine years old. And he has the potential to do it, but the feedback along the way has always been the same: he’ll have to work hard at it. He will never be one of those people who finds it easy, someone with a natural grace, whose every move pops into sync perfectly, who possesses a deep, soulful connection with the ocean. Unlike someone else in his family who just won her quarters.

  Jaspa is startled by a repetitive banging, which sounds like a round of bullets.

  ‘What are you doing in there, having a nervous poo?’ Mel shouts through the toilet door. ‘Why didn’t you wait for me?’

  ‘I’ll be done in a minute,’ Jaspa replies, fully clothed and sitting on top of the closed seat.

  ‘We’ve gotta go – like, seriously, the semis are starting soon. I’ll see you out the front.’ Mel retreats back downstairs and sits on the front bench, jiggling her leg impatiently.

  Jaspa screws up the paper in her hand, shuts her eyes and unfolds one of the strips. Her gut instinct is right, and the universe agrees – now is not the time. She’s just going to have to accept that Tyler doesn’t need her right now.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long. Here,’ Jaspa offers, chucking Mel a banana.

  ‘Thanks. Don’t eat it now, though. Last thing we need is nana vommies in the semi finals,’ Mel says as they walk across the street towards their beach tent.

  ‘How did Carolyn go?’ Jaspa asks, tucking the banana into her bag.

  ‘She made the semis, which means she’s qualified already! Mad, huh?’ Mel nudges Jaspa with her elbow. ‘So, how you feeling? Are you pumped? This is huge, Jazz, we’ve almost made it, too.’

  Before Jaspa can come up with a convincing answer, an argument stops them in their tracks. A girl storms towards the beach, trying to escape her dad’s outrage. Jaspa recognises her as Lisa Campbell, one of the competitors in her quarter final, who only just scraped into second place. Although her placing means she has still made it through to the semi finals, it obviously wasn’t enough to impress her father.

  ‘You let her out-surf you, and you were bogging most of your turns,’ her dad thunders, saliva flying. ‘All the money I’ve spent on coaching you goes out the window when you don’t listen,’ he shouts, tugging at his earlobe to illustrate his point.
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br />   ‘Look!’ Lisa screams, raising the palm of her hand to her forehead in frustration. ‘I made it through, I don’t know why you’re stressing over this. This is my dream, not yours. Just because you’re a has-been. Get off my back!’ Lisa bolts.

  Having a dad who’s an ex-junior state champion should be a blessing for any surfer, but not for Lisa. When her dad was Lisa’s age he was their hometown’s surfing hero, Jan Juc’s biggest hope of making a splash on the world surfing stage. But that was during an era when many professional surfers indulged in hard partying while competing, and only a handful could juggle that combination successfully. Despite years of trying, and using every dollar he had, Lisa’s dad never made it past the top sixty surfers in the world. He concluded his attempt with no cash, little education and wound up with a job he loathes, looking ten years older than he is. His little girl is his only chance of surfing stardom.

  ‘Man, I bicker with my mum, but you gotta feel grateful not to have to put up with that crap,’ Mel whispers to Jaspa.

  ‘I know, poor thing,’ Jaspa agrees, wiping her sunglasses on her dress. ‘Must be so embarrassing for her. She seems pretty nice, too. Remember we met her at that event on Phillip Island in March?’

  ‘Yeah, that was one of the funnest comps this year, I reckon,’ Mel nods. ‘I do recall her dad having a bit of a spat there as well. Didn’t he storm into the judges’ area?’

  ‘Yep. I hear the association even threatened to ban him from events. I bet she wants to qualify just to get away from him.’

  ‘Female surfers in the semi finals, please check in. Action starts in fifteen minutes,’ a voice bellows over the loudspeaker.

  Mel squeals in excitement and pulls Jaspa towards the tents, where they each collect a rash vest. Mel is in blue and will be in semi final one. Jaspa will be wearing yellow in the second semi with Carolyn. Jaspa takes a sly peek at the men’s heat sheets to see that Cooper has just qualified for the final. If she was his girlfriend they could support one another. She could even stand on the sand and point out where the sets are coming from and direct him to the best waves. When they get married and buy a beach house, they can have one side of the mantel for his trophies and the other for hers, with a photo of them riding tandem on a longboard at sunrise hanging above it. Jaspa snaps out of her daydream with a twist in her stomach as she realises that this picture is most unlikely to come to life.