Simply swell

IT’S ONE OF THOSE moments when you can’t stop a swear word tumbling from your lips. The sky has suddenly turned slate grey and the wind has whipped up. I’m paddling in the warm waters off Mirissa Beach in Sri Lanka when I spy a huge wave looming from the direction of the storm clouds.

I try to turn and escape but in a moment I’m dragged under and tossed around. Clearing the salty water from my windpipe with a cough and trudging back up the beach a minute later, I feel more embarrassed than anything, especially because I’ve lost my sunglasses in the swell. Thankfully, Mirissa’s one shop offers a neat range of fake Ray-Ban Wayfarers for US$3.

These waves are legendary and have made Mirissa a mythical stop for surfers. I look out to sea and can see the unmistakable shapes of a dozen or so surfers; matchstick men riding the rips between jagged rocks with the kind of verve and aplomb clumsy old me can only fantasise about.

My close encounter with the power of nature makes me think of another wave – one that will be remembered by generations to come. The December 26, 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami obliterated Mirissa along with many other villages and towns along the coast of Sri Lanka. Mirissa today, however, is back to its chilled-out, blissed-out best.

Nightmares don’t seem to last long here – it’s so tranquil that you feel you can forget your troubles.

From the top of Parrot Rock, just10 metres or so high, you can appreciate this place’s real beauty.