A las once de la mañana la playa se encontraba llena. El Sol continuaba avanzando sobre Liencres, describiendo una curva lenta y luciendo con intensidad. Lejanos, grandes barcos mercantes proseguían su ruta a través del Mar Cantábrico. La cercanía de estos a la línea del horizonte suponía una gran distancia hasta la playa. Con un movimiento lento, parecían formar parte del paisaje. Otros islotes más cercanos así lo eran, confundiendo posición y distancia.
La remada hasta la zona de surf sucedió pausada. Fui atravesando las olas que llegaban en dirección a la orilla, flotando con suavidad, disfrutando del paseo. Después de calmar la sed de pasión, pude disfrutar de otros surfers y sus trazos. Las olas que ahora arribaban eran más grandes. Su medio metro adicional, prolongaba su recorrido con un acabado final de gran calidad. En una de estas olas, un compañero, se alzó sobre la cresta. Situado a mi derecha, ví como se puso de pies, para descender hasta la base y girar. Tumbado sobre la superficie, el agua evacuaba por los bordes de su tabla. La onda desarrolló su forma a medida que avanzaba sobre el fondo. Ascendió de nuevo a la cima. Sobre su comba, avanzó su trazado. A lo largo de unos metros, suspendido y con equilibrio, regresó a la ola que caminaba intacta al otro lado. Corriendo la onda, se adelantó a mi posición. Entrando por la pared levemente inclinada de agua, dejé el camino limpio. Buceando de espaldas, con la tabla agarrada, observé el paso diestro de aquel surfer. Con las quillas incrustadas dentro del agua y el bottom de la tabla pegado a la vertical, disfrutó la curva que allí apareció. Ya en la superficie lo seguí con curiosidad. Acabó el viaje con un trazo sobre la base. Alejado del epicentro, terminó tumbado sobre la tabla, de camino a la arena.
A lo ancho de Valdearenas las toallas ocupaban parte del espacio. El final de la playa albergaba gente que descansaba. Acostados sobre la arena y lejos del bullicio que había en la entrada, disfrutában de espacio libre a su alrededor. Sobre las dunas, asomaban las cabezas de personas que eligieron un lugar elevado y miraban hacia el mar observando el espectáculo. Transcurría así la mañana, animada, soleada y oleada.
Las series regresaron después de su descanso periódico. Su altura superaba los dos metros. Desplazaban masas de agua a modo de pequeñas colinas en movimiento. Con una inclinación alargada, tenían un falso llano por encima de su mitad. Aquel comportamiento despertaba la curiosidad de conocer el transito de sus pasos. Fuimos surfeando por turnos, esperando y evitando pisar otros viajes. Arranqué la marcha en la misma dirección que Robayera. Esperando mi momento, pensé en llegar a lado derecho. Hacia allá la olas corrían amoldadas a su nuevo comportamiento. Atrás quedaba la opción izquierda, cuyo trazado acortado dificultaba las maniobras. La zona terminó vacia de surfers, cuando llegué sólo dos compañeros esperaban aún. Ensimismados en la conversación, señalaban más a la derecha. Gesticulando con las manos, parecían elegir otro camino. La corriente los desplazó. Entre nosotros una distancia de treinta metros. Llegó la siguiente onda. De gran tamaño y con hábitat propio, cobijó mi tabla en su ladera. Remando de lado, conseguí alzarme. Avanzando lateralmente esperé relajado. La ola me fue recolocando, poco a poco, hacia la base. Llegando a su semiplano la velocidad descendió. Dirigí el trazado a la cima. A su encuentro, la punta de la tabla golpeó contra el agua que sobresalía. Con los brazos extendidos, movidos como las aspas de un molino y girando el cuerpo, conseguí volver. Sobre la cresta ahora empinada, una sensación de vértigo palpitaba sobre el corazón. Unos instantes de quietud precedieron al descenso. Con el cuerpo encogido empecé la bajada. Transformando la figura conforme llegaba a la base, sentí la sincronía del Mar con la tabla. De nuevo abrí a derechas, cabalgando sobre la onda ya madura. Tras unos metros, la ola mermada abrió una salida para finalizar el viaje. Saltando al agua terminé el viaje.
Descansando, quieto permanecí un buen rato. Tumbado sobre el agua, sentía, pensaba en unos días atrás. Momentos y trazos aparecían sobre el la superficie. Personas hablando, surfeando, riendo, gritando. Todo ello cerca y dentro del Mar, contenido por la línea del horizonte.
Moments of Liencres. Saturday, tracings
At eleven o’clock in the morning the beach was full. The Sun was continuing advancing on Liencres, describing a slow curve and shining with intensity. Far away, big merchant ships were continuing his route across the Cantabrian Sea. The nearness of them to the line of the horizon reflected a great distance up to the beach. With a slow movement, them seemed to form a part of the landscape. Other islands more nearby already were it, causing confusion in position and distance.
The stroke up to the surf zone happened quiet. I crossed the waves that were coming towards the shore, floating with smoothness, enjoying the walk. After calming the thirst of passion, I could enjoy other surfers and their tracings. The waves that now were arriving were bigger. Its half additional meter was prolonging its tour with a finished of great quality. In one of these waves, a companion, raised on the top. Placed to my right, I saw as he stood up, to descend up to the base and to turn. I was on the surface, the water was evacuating for the rails of his board. The wave developed its form as it was advancing over the bottom. He ascended again to the top. On its curve, he advanced his tracing. Along a few meters, suspended and with balance, he returned to the wave that had a clean road in the other side. The speed of the wave went forward up to my position. Entering the wall slightly inclined of water, I cleaned that path. Diving of backs, with the tight table, I observed the skillful step of that surfer. With the keels incrusted inside the water and the bottom of the board stuck to the vertical one, he enjoyed the curve that was appeared there. Already in the surface I followed it with curiosity. It ended the trip with a drawing on the base. Removed from the epicentre, he ended knocked down on the board, on the way to the sand.
Widthways of Valdearenas the towels were occupying part of the space. The end of the beach had people who was resting. They were sunbathing on the sand far from the hustle that existed in the entry, enjoying of free space around them. Over the dunes, some heads, people that chose a high place and were watching to the sea observing the spectacle. It was passing this way the morning, animated, sunny and with waves.
The series returned after his periodic rest. His height was overcoming both meters. Them were displacing water masses like small hills in movement. With an elongated inclination, them had a false plain over its medium. That behavior was waking up the curiosity to know the traffic of its steps. We were surfing in shifts, expecting and avoiding to tread on other trips. I started the march in the same direction to Robayera. Waiting for my moment, I thought of coming to right side. Thither the waves were running through the mould of its new behavior. Behind, the left option, which short path was impeding the maneuvers. The zone ended empty of surfers, when I came only two companions were still waiting. Concentrated in the conversation, they were pointing more to the right. Gesturing with the hands, they seemed to choose another way. The current had displaced them. Between ourselves, a distance of thirty meters. The following wave came. With great size and own habitat, it sheltered my board in its hillside. Rowing to one side, I managed to stand up over it. Advancing laterally I waited relaxed. The wave was re-placing me, little by little, towards the base. Coming to its semiplane the speed had descended. I directed to the top. When them met together, the top of the board throbbed against the water, that was out its imaginary line. With the widespread arms, as the arms of a mill and turning the body, I managed to return. On the crest now steep, a dizziness was fluttering on the heart. A few instants of quietude preceded the drop. With the flexed body I began the descent. Transforming the figure through the way up to the base, I felt the synchrony of the Sea with the board. Again I opened to right, riding on the wave that was already mature. After a few meters, the reduced wave opened an exit, to finish the trip. Jumping to the water I finished the travel.
Resting, I was a long time. On the water, sensations and thoughts about a few days before. Moments and tracings were appearing on the surface. Persons speaking, surfing, laughing, shouting. All, around and inside the Sea, that was contained by the line of the horizon.
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