Saltwater Stoke

There’s something about the ocean that speaks directly to the soul. It’s an ancient call, woven into the very fabric of our being, a reminder of where we’ve come from and the mysteries that lie beneath the surface. This story, a single thread in the vast tapestry of human connection with the sea, explores the intricate dance of risk, reward, and reflection through the lens of BlueMind.

It was an October morning years ago, in Mouille Point, Cape Town, that found me preparing for a precious hour or two of saltwater immersion. The sun cast a golden hue over the waters, a crisp light that danced on waves that were rolling in just for me, the empty break I had always dreamed of. My faithful yet long neglected fish surfboard was with me, a silent reliable companion from days past, now ready to tackle Off the Wall, a reef break and a spot known for its playful waves, a stone’s throw from my mother’s front door.

As I sat on a rock, the ritual began: scraping off old layers of wax, each stroke a meditation, whilst I watched, and counted, waves and sets. The plastic Checkers packet by my side caught the remnants of past sessions, while my thoughts drifted with the tide. The cold water, the kelp, the seals… and the unseen and imagined shadows beneath, the sharks. Those ancient, silent stalkers, turning the solitary figure of a surfer into a silhouette against the morning sun in the vastness of their domain.

The solitude of the moment, once a blanket of peace, became a shroud of apprehension. The thrill of the empty lineup was overshadowed by the realization of being utterly alone, a proxy seal in the eyes of the imagined beholder below. My heart raced, not from excitement, but from an irrational fear, a departure from the usual respect and awareness I held for these waters.

Then, as if summoned by the sea itself, a figure appeared. Tall, lanky, with a surfboard under one arm, he broke through my paralysis with a few simple words: “Come on, man, they won’t get better than this!” His presence was a lifeline, a sudden shift in the narrative from solitude to camaraderie. Following him into the waves, the fear that had once seemed insurmountable was halved, not by logic, but by the mere fact of shared humanity.

With each wave we rode, the ocean reclaimed its role as a connector, a vast entity that brought us together in a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. The fear receded with each paddle back to the lineup, replaced by a sense of belonging, not just to this spot, but to the broader, interconnected world of water. The BlueMind concept came alive, not as an abstract idea, but as a visceral, lived experience. The ocean was no longer just a backdrop for physical exertion; it was a space for mental and emotional rejuvenation, a place where risk met reward, and reflection led to a deeper understanding of our place in the natural world.

This encounter, brief and seemingly inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, offered a profound lesson in the interplay of risk and reward. The risk, initially perceived as a solitary venture into the unknown, transformed into a shared adventure, multiplying the rewards tenfold. The presence of another soul, facing the same vast expanse, served as a mirror to my own fears and aspirations, reminding me that we are never truly alone in our journey.

As the last wave of my session carried me back to shore, the theme of “Risk, Reward, and Reflection” had woven itself into my narrative, a reminder of the delicate balance we navigate in our relationship with the ocean. This journey, and others like it shared in the story of “Saltwater Stoke,” is a testament to the power of the BlueMind, a call to not only embrace the risks and rewards of our adventures but to reflect on our connection to the sea and our role in its conservation. For in the end, it is through these shared experiences, these moments of vulnerability and strength, that we find our deepest connection to the natural world, and to each other.