Langre, descubriendo las olas. Camino
El atardecer llegó de improvisto. Los viajes y espectáculos vividos habían hecho olvidar la mundana concepción del tiempo. La playa aún conservaba luz suficiente para continuar surfeando. Sobre el acantilado de Langre, una línea difuminada de color anaranjado iba ocupando parte del cielo.
Alejado de las rocas permanecí un tiempo prolongado. Con el mar ondulante de fondo y el agua liberada de gente, apareció un viento que pulía la superficie de las olas. Aquella brisa alentaba el movimiento, rodeando las figuras que encontraba a su paso. Un estruendo sonó distante. Contra La Punta de Langre, chocaban las olas que llegaban erguidas en el momento del impacto. Sobre las rocas cruzaba el agua que salía despedida, cubriendo la zona por un instante. La pleamar dotó al oleaje con más energía. Otras olas avanzaban hacia la playa, manteniendo una serie armónica de menor tamaño y haciendolas hábiles. La mejores condiciones de estas últimas, estimulaban la imaginación en busca de una gran ola.
Avanzando hacia el interior y situado a cien metros del centro, veía llegar las series. Caminando a la izquierda ,sobre ellas, un rizo que terminaba limpio. Descolgando partes de la cresta, continuaba su trazado. Buscando una posición mejor, llegué al extremo central. Poco tiempo después arribó una ola mediana. El golpe con la tabla me ancló a su cresta. Corrí unos metros sobre ella. Descendí a la base para seguir el camino. Con un embudo de agua detrás de mí y gotas salpicando sobre el trayecto de la tabla, fijé la atención hacia adelante. Tras un par de giros, sincronicé mi marcha con la del mar. La onda fue rebajando su tamaño hasta rodar sobre la superficie. Terminé el viaje con un feliz y tranquilo salto. Suspendido en el agua, sentí atravesar una ligera brisa por mi contorno.
Apurando la tarde hasta el final, continué en el agua con otros colegas. Otra chica se subió a un ola. Realizando un aéreo sobre la cima, aterrizó con suavidad en su base. Continuó su marcha ondulando su trazado. Al encontrarse de nuevo con la cresta repitió la misma maniobra. Con el paso de la onda desapareció su figura. Minutos después estaba en la arena recogiendo su equipo, para llegar al aparcamiento. El final de la sesión se iba acercando.
Esperé un cuarto de hora, descansando y disfrutando del mar. Otro surfer alcanzó una buena ola. Corriendo ya en su base, aquella comenzó a cubrirlo. Su silueta se veía sobre, y dentro del agua. Adquiriendo velocidad dejó atrás el agua que rompía. El resto de nosotros mirábamos con atención. Durante decenas de metros siguió con la maniobra hasta salir del tubo para acabar remando hacia la orilla. La ola continuó y lo alcanzó la espuma.
Pensando en finalizar, un sonido me hizo girar la mirada a mar abierto. Una buena serie llegaba. Pasaron las primeras olas, preparé la tabla para la tercera. Cuando llegó, tenía dos metros de altura. Flotando sobre la cresta, incliné mi cuerpo hacia adelante. Bajando a la base, ví como la ola comenzó a entubar. Giré a la izquierda buscando la salida. Corriendo debajo de la cobertura que se formó, alcancé una nueva abertura. Surfeé hacia la cima. De nuevo en la base, la ola volvió a entubar. Antes de que completara el cierre, me deslicé más allá de ese punto. Curvando la trayectoria de nuevo a su tope, conseguí esquivar la rotura ya producida. Continué el viaje pegado a la cima, siguiendo el camino hasta encontrar un claro que se abrió antes del cierre contrario. Con un gesto, subí la ola y pasé al otro lado. La onda se desplomó, alejando su estela hacia la orilla.
Lagre, discovering the waves. Way
The late afternoon came suddenly. The trips and spectacles that were lived, had exiled the mundane conception of time . The beach still was preserving sufficient light to continue surfing. Over the cliffs of Langre, a blurred line of orange color was occupying part of the sky.
Removed from the rocks, I remained a long time. With the undulating sea of bottom and the water liberated of people, a wind appeared that drew the surface of the waves. That breeze was encouraging the movement, surrounding the figures that he was finding to its step. An uproar sounded distantly. Against The Tip of Langre, were shocking the waves that were coming raised in the moment of the impact. Over the rocks, the water was crossing through the blow, covering the zone for an instant. The tide provided to the surge with more energy. Other waves were advancing towards the beach, with a harmonic series of minor size and making them usefull. The better conditions, of the above mentioned, were stimulating the imagination in search of a great wave.
Advancing inside and as I placed to hundred meters of the center, I saw the series that came. Walking to the left side, of them, a curl that was ending cleanly. Parts of the crest were broken, but the wave was continuing its tracing. Looking for a better position, I came to the central end. A little time later, a medium wave arrived. It blow with the board, anchored me to its top. I ran a few meters on it. I descended to the base to follow the way. With a water funnel behind me, and drops that were splashing on the path of the board, I fixed the attention ahead. After a couple of drafts, I synchronized my march with that of the sea. The wave was reducing its size until it rolled on the surface. I finished the trip with a happy and calm jump. Suspended in the water, I felt a light breeze that crossed for my contour.
Playing through afternoon until the end, I was in the water with other colleagues. Another girl was raised to an wave. Doing an air wave on the top, she landed with smoothness in the base. She continued his march waving his tracing. The re-meeting with the top produced the same maneuver. With the steps of the wave, her figure dissapeared. Minutes later, she was, in the sand, carrying on her equipment, to come to the parking. The end of the session was approaching.
I waited for a quarter of hour, resting and enjoying the sea. Another surfer reached a good wave. Running already in its base, that began to cover it. His silhouette was seen on, and inside the water. The speed allowed him to left behind the water that was breaking. The rest of us were looking with attention. During dozens of meters it continued with the maneuver up to going out of the pipe to finish towards the shore. The wave continued and the foam reached him.
Thinking of finish, a sound made me turn the look to open sea. A good series was coming. The first waves happened, I prepared the board for the third one. When it came, it had two meters of height. Floating on the top, I inclined the body ahead. Going down to the base, I saw as the wave began to coil. I turned to the left side looking for the exit. Running under the coverage that was formed, I reached a new opening. I sailed towards the crest. Again in the base, the wave returned to coil. Before the closing would be completed, I slipped beyond that point. Towards the path again of its ceiling, I managed to avoid the already produced break. I tried the trip stuck to the top, following the way until a safe zone was opened before the opposite closing. With a gesture, I raised the wave and went to other side. The wave collapsed, painting its stela towards the shore.
