Momentos de Liencres. Sábado, tarde
La pleamar sucedió a las doce del mediodía. El mar incrementó su volumen y redujo su actividad. Después de tres horas en el agua, Los compañeros que aún estábamos allí, dimos por terminada la sesión matinal. Otros surfers comenzaban su jornada, camino del Mar Cantábrico.
Las horas centrales del día lucieron con intensidad el Sol que apareció por la mañana. El calor atizaba el termómetro disparando su valor por encima de los treinta y cinco grados. En la orilla despegué el invento, con la tabla debajo del brazo, me dirigí hacia el coche. Otros colegas, ya en la arena, habían desplegado una sombrilla y colocado un par de neveras de camping encima de las dunas. Un amigo se acercó y recogió mi equipo para ponerlo al Sol. Después de cerrar el coche, regrese con la comida. Las tablas incrustadas verticalmente en la arena formaban una irregular fila, componiendo una imagen pintoresca de fin de semana. El cansancio se entremezclaba con el alboroto de la conversación. Todo el mundo estaba comentando sobre las maniobras y las buenas olas de la mañana. Un caos apasionante estimulaba la charla, haciendo olvidar el agotamiento por un instante. Entre nosotros risas y emociones al escuchar los relatos que se producían. Tras comer, el calor y el desgaste impusieron una pausa obligatoria.
La bajamar que llegaría por la tarde fue vaciando el agua de surfers. Despertando entre bostezos y posturas, las conversaciones que se oían de fondo parecían no haber interrumpido su marcha durante aquel tiempo. Los músculos, agarrotados por el esfuerzo de la mañana, aumentaban la sensación de agotamiento. Mientras hacíamos estiramientos, planificábamos el resto de la tarde. El oleaje volvió a Valdearenas y la distancia hasta el mar aumentó, apareciendo una llanura ondulada en medio. El peso del agua compacta la arena, las corrientes moldean su superficie. Bajamos hasta la explanada para dar un breve paseo y observar, en la cota cero, el tamaño y comportamiento de las olas de la tarde. Tenía el suelo descubierto una consistencia firme y tersa. Tonificaba esto el cuerpo a cada paso. Cerca de la nueva línea de la orilla, las olas saludaban con sinuosas formas. Trayectos claros aparecían sobre la superficie, que se asemejaban a golpes sobre una extensa y libre cuerda. Permanecimos mirando al frente durante unos minutos, sin pronunciar una palabra. Mientras un compañero afirmaba con la cabeza, dimos la vuelta en busca de los equipos.
Haciendo un último calentamiento, fuimos repartiendo la zona. El Mar Cantábrico caminaba ahora sobre un nuevo fondo, mostrando una naturaleza que se ocultaba; alejada por el agua que se posaba con la marea alta. Empezamos a remar, separando los trayectos. Fui sorteando las olas que llegaban. Sumergiendo la punta de la tabla que empujaba después con la rodilla, evitaba las olas ya nacidas. Alcanzado un lugar adecuado, sentado sobre la tabla, di un vistazo alrededor. Las olas llegaban intactas hasta la arena y precipitaban su final de forma brusca, a pocos metros de la orilla. Aquellas que nacían antes, habilitaban un circuito seguro, casi regular. Al poco tiempo apareció una ola alargada habitando todo el área. En el lado derecho, un amigo agitaba su mano. Preparados, esperamos su llegada. Encaminado hacia la izquierda, visualice posibles trazados; al final las rocas de la entrada. Remando con fuerza y con velocidad de transito, fui transportado sobre el frente de la ola durante unos segundos. Inclinando el cuerpo adelante, contuve la tabla al ponerme de pie. El movimiento siguió su curso hacia abajo, equilibrando el peso con el cuerpo y los brazos alcance la base. Un giro suave me dirigió de nuevo a la izquierda. Corrí paralelo a la pared que se iba construyendo. Un golpe seco hizo que la tabla describiera un trazado ondulante, con forma de «s» invertida. Esquivando la rotura que apareció, proseguí en su continuación. Reconduciendo el viaje, avance unos metros. La cresta quedaba cerca. Las rocas de la entrada se iban aproximando. Lanzado hacia lo alto, salí despedido. Terminé cayendo al agua, empujando la tabla lejos de mi. Sumergido, quedé relajado hasta volver a la superficie.
Pasó otra hora. Más olas ofrecieron su impulso. Viajes y trazados de más colegas animaron a otros surfers a entrar al agua. De regreso a la zona de confort topé con una ola pequeña, golpeó la tabla al llegar a la cresta; provocando un cambio de dirección. Posicionando la tabla con lenta y graciosa armonía, me vi mirando hacia la playa. Una respiración arrancó una curiosa y feliz sonrisa.
Moments of Liencres. Saturday, afternoon
The high tide happened at twelve o’clock at midday. The Sea increased its volume and reduced the activity. After three hours in the water, the companions we still were there, finished the morning session. Other surfers began the day, way to the Cantabrian Sea.
The central hours of the day illuminated with intensity the Sun that appeared in the morning. The heat was stoking the thermometer, shooting its value over thirty five degrees. In the shore, I removed the leash and with the board under the arm, I went towards the car. Other colleagues, already in the sand, had opened a parasol and placed a couple of iceboxes of camping on the dunes. A friend approached and gathered my equipment to put it to the Sun. After closing the car, I return with the food. The boards lodged vertically in the sand were forming an irregular row, composing a picturesque image of weekend. The weariness was intermingling with the riot of the conversation. Everyone was commenting on the maneuvers and the good waves of the morning. An exciting chaos was stimulating the conversation, making forget the depletion for an instant. Between ourselves, laughs and emotions on having listened to the statements that were taking place. After eating, the heat and the wear imposed an obligatory pause.
The low tide that would come in the evening was emptying the water of surfers. Waking up between yawns and positions, the conversations that were heard of background seemed not to have interrupted its march during that time. The muscles, squeezed by the effort of the morning, were increasing the sensation of depletion. While we were doing stretchings, we were planning the rest of the evening. The surge returned to Valdearenas and the distance up to the sea increased, appearing a waved plain. The weight of the water compacts the sand, the currents mold its surface. We went down up to the esplanade to give a brief walk and to observe, in the level zero, the size and behavior of the waves of the afternoon. The disclosed soil had a firm and smooth consistency. That circunstance, was strengthening the body in every step. Near the new line of the shore, the waves were greeting with sinuous forms. Clear journeys were appearing on the surface, that were like shocks on an large and free rope. We continued looking at the front during a few minutes, without words. While a companion was affirming with the head, we returned to search the equipments.
Doing a last warming, we were distributing the zone. The Cantabrian Sea was walking now on a new bottom, Showing a nature that was hiding itself; remote by the water that was settling with the high tide. We began to row, separating the distances. I was avoiding the waves that were coming. Plunging the top of the board that I was pushing later with the knee, I was avoiding the already born waves. In a suitable place, I sat on the board and gave a glimpse around. The waves that were coming intact up to the sand, were precipitating its end in sudden form, to few meters of the shore. Those that were born before, were enabling a secure circuit, almost regular. A little time later, appeared an elongated wave that was living in all the area. In the right side a friend was moving his hand. Prepared, we wait for its arrival. I directed towards the left side, I imagined possible tracings, ultimately the rocks of the entry. Rowing hard and with cruising speed , I was transported on the front of the wave during a few seconds. Inclining the body ahead, I contained the board as I got up. The movement followed its course down, balancing the weight with the body and the arms I reached the base. A soft shift directed me again to the left side. I ran parallel to the wall that was constructed. A dry blow did that the board described an undulating tracing, with form of «s» invested. Avoiding the break that appeared, I continued in its way. Redirecting the trip, I advanced some meters. The top was staying nearby. The rocks of the entry were coming closer. Thrown towards the high place, I was catalysed. I ended up by falling to the water, pushing the board far from myself. Plunged, I remained relaxed up to returning to the surface.
Another hour happened. More waves offered its impulse. Trips and tracings of more colleagues had encouraged other surfers to enter to the water. On returning to the zone of comfort I ran against a small wave, it struck the board on having come to the comb; provoking a direction change. Placing the position with slow and graceful harmony, I met looking at the beach. A breathing started a curious and happy smile.
