The Fanta Super Hero

My friends and I will always remember a super hero named Guru. Guru is surfing’s everyman. His wetsuit was four seasons old, but very well looked after; the bright orange panels still glowed like they were made from solid Fanta. His board was inches short of a full length diving board, but he needed some extra buoyancy to support his boep. He’d arrive at Avalanche at 5:30pm in his work bakie (White Lightning), still wearing a carpenters overall, Ciggie dangling from the corner of his handle bar moustache. Saw dust and elbow grease stained his clothes and his skin was the colour of milky hot chocolate; you could see he worked outside all year round.
We’d be shivering in the parking lot, weak with hunger and sporting a snot doughnuts round our noses from the cold wind, waiting impatiently for our mothers to arrive. Guru would stop in front of the parking lot and stick his head out the window. After scanning the horizon for 20 seconds he’d whip White Lighting into a devastating wheelspin, placing his steed dead between two white road lines with plastic surgeon-like precision. Jaws aloft, we’d see Guru get suited up in nano seconds, still sitting in the single cab (like superman in a tikkie box stall). Our Fanta superhero, the one named Guru, would emerge and be dashing down the beach before we ever had time to ask his real name.
His skill and agility saw Guru over the rocks and into the line up just as my mom always arrived. From the back seat of my mom’s Kombi, we’d watch Guru stroke into his first set wave, Rothman’s Red still in his mouth, and cheer him on as his boogied down the line on his giant surfboard. He never won any contests or earned critical acclaim, but his tight fisted claim after riding a cracker two foot wave at Avos will always stand out in my mind as the epitome of awesomeness.
I had the honour of gracing the lineup beside Guru once. It was on a Thursday afternoon. Avos was firing— the waves were somewhere around 3 foot and glassy, so in PE that qualifies. I’d seen my mom’s Kombi, but I was hard pressed to get out of the water. She was flashing her brights and hooting, but I couldn’t leave until I got a good last wave in. I sat at the back waving at my mom, signalling one more wave. Amidst all my flustered waving, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed White Lightning peering at the line up. Suddenly everything went black. The Fanta Super Hero cracked me across the back of the head before I had a chance to say, “Jissus, It’s Guru!”
I gathered my senses and turned towards him, but before I could ask why he klapped me The Guru said, “Only a peephole doesn’t listen to his mother.”
And with those words I left the line up, apologised to my mother and got in the Kombi. From the boot of my mom’s car I watched Guru stroke into wafting three footer and ride it clumsily down the point. Although I couldn’t see it in fine detail, because of the afternoon glare (and because I lost a contact lense when Guru belted me), I knew it was him. He howled like a wolf on its last night in the forest and claimed it like Super Hero.
Today the waves were appalling. The conditions weren’t that bad, there was no swell whatsoever. Even driving down the coast from Cape Town, I saw no swell activity along the West Coast. Maybe with the imminent Cold Front and easterly winds we’ll have something to shout about by the weekend?
The South African Team ended up seventh at the World Surfing Games, which is a marvellous achievement. For photos and fine details (like heat sheets and video highlights), check out www.wsg2008.com