Blind boogie boarding
As Baccara’s great disco number goes, “Yes sir, I can boogie, but I need a certain song”. The words apply just as well to boogie boarding as dancing. In my case, the song I need is my mum’s epic surf talent guiding me along.
It’s late spring and the south-west coast of Victoria still has Antarctic vibes. We are wet-suited up. Clouds hang low in the sky, teasing much-needed rain. The sand squelches under my feet as Mum and I march to the water’s edge, brandishing our boards. A benign wave slaps our shins, and we scream.
“Gees, it’s cold. I can feel that in my bones,” I say.
Another wave whacks us and we squeal again. We’re like little kids– yelling with half fear and half delight. The tide sucks the sand from beneath our heels as the water rushes back out to sea. Despite its iciness, the salty tang of the water entices me. All that roiling energy is magnetic. Mum tells me with expert assessment that the waves don’t look too choppy today. We are here, though. We have our boards ready. Mother and daughter with bung eyes determined to go for a boogie board. Another wave hits. We scream again, and we keep moving deeper into the water.
After I lost my vision, there was a great temptation to assume that some experiences might be over for me. But I’m lucky to have some pretty incredible role models in my family. My mum and my sister are both seriously vision impaired, and they both boogie board. While I wasn’t galivanting in the sea from day one – any loss needs a period of grief and recovery – I soon learned two things about disability. The first is the art of the possible and the second is that disability is often situational. With the right kind of support around you, with someone by your side saying, ‘this is how it’s done’, it’s actually possible to do just about anything. Like boogie boarding, when the only thing you can really tell is which way the beach is and which way the horizon is.
Mum and I get in the spot that she reckons will be the best place to catch one of these despondent waves. It’s now almost pleasant in the water, and we marvel at the power of the wetsuits to keep hypothermia at bay. Of course, I’m jumping up and down like a maniac as well, trying to encourage my blood to circulate faster. Weak drops of rain begin to fall. I wonder if my dad will want to stick it out on the beach performing the roles of photo chronicler and safety spotter if the rain really starts coming down. It’s too early to give up, though. We’ve only just gotten in.
“This looks like one,” Mum calls. “Ready! Ready! Now!”
We leap onto our boards and suddenly, the magical hand of the sea is whisking us forward. We are flying over sea foam and spray. We are laughing our heads off with the sheer joy of it.
And I want to scream like a little kid all over again – this time in triumph - I caught a wave! I caught a wave!