Twin keel fish, the kill of the quiver, the insane speed giver. Outshoot the lip like a sunray escaping gravitational forces. Disperse yourself into many forms like a ray of light thru a prism. The cool trim, the slashing, gouging turns-men, the intense barrel holder. Layback cutbacks blend into a blue fantasy of barrel rides, sky light, and life light blurring for a few precious moments. The wave emerges from the ocean and as if shaped by unseen hands, folds and unfurls itself. The water curls out of the ocean, defying gravity, caught in its embrace. You are in between worlds, a place above life and death, a bliss filled nowhere that you spend your entire life searching for.
Where does the wave go when its gone? Does it lose track of time and place like creatures past? Is there a wave boneyard at the bottom of the ocean where the skeletons of waves go after they have lived, roared, and died? Perhaps the waves merely fall asleep after crashing on the beach and rest. Awakening and letting loose another powerful yawn and roar and crash! Before resting again.
You see the dark burgeoning wave before you, turning, you paddle. Hands thru freezing water, your shoulders on fire, the wave picks you up. To catch those awakening waves, the fish glides happily over the lip and speeds along the face. You cruise and swoop and mellow the vibe of the wave, so smooth and quiet, like you are part of the wave breaking itself. Shift your feet, dig the rail, and a moments hesitation, then the bite of the keel fin hurls you in and up the wave, staying low you let the board pivot beneath you. Grab the rail, whole body dragging thru the water, the fish tears thru the lip, showering sweet salt spray into the air. The board orbits your body and reverses direction, rolling under you as it picks up speed. The wave closes itself, and you are covered in a white blanket of water. You have found that sacred space, you are home, you smile, and paddle back to the lineup.
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| Lee Leatherman, twin keel fish |
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