The lure off a new sport for me anyway, is a deafening sound. It starts at
the back of the brain a silent whisper and slowly drifts forward as the
weekend approaches. Come Saturday night, it reaches it's forte, waves of
sound breaking around my brain in complete stereo, "must compete", "must
play", "must win".
On Sunday morning bright and early at 8:00 am I arrive at
the beach. The previous nights brain activity severely dampened by the
earliness of day, the lack of sleep and the bright sunshine gleaming in at
eye level.
Sitting on the beach i try to arise some enthusiasm for the up
coming event. This week it's beach volleyball, a first for me.
The crowds start to arrive and setup the equipment. Duncan also rocks up, a
little late and sporting a salesman's smile. You know the smile you get when
you've just purchased an over priced piece of junk, that you both know won't
work, and will be thrown out within a week. I'm not saying Duncan's the type
of person that would stoop to that level; well you know what I mean.
A few words of encouragement for Duncan, and my brain kicks into over-drive.
The thought of playing beach volleyball kept me up last night and it looks
like my brain is determined to keep me up the rest of the week. It's time to
introduce Jack. He's my partner if that's what you call them. Jack's very
tall with strong hands and very talkative. I glance over at the men's net
and think "yep, reckon we will do okay with Jack." And sure enough we did.
Beach volleyball isn't about getting the ball back over the net, it's about
taking time out to sample some of the finest quality sand Tasmania has to
offer. After the first mouthful you begin to understand the complexity of
the taste. Sure it's got an overwhelming salty quality, but that's not what
you look for in good tasting sand. Up the high end of the beach, where you
can't help but put your face diving for the ball; the sand has a slightly
less salty pallet. It has a fine composition, which makes digesting large
mouth fulls easier. However it's light composition makes for easy ingestion
up the nose, which generally detracts from it's overall appeal.
In summary I'd give it 3 for colour 5 for smell, and with no nasty tannins on the way
down a 7 for pallet.
When comparing sands one has to take into account the age or maturity of the
sand. Down on the water edge the sandy is very young, giving an overwhelming
salty flavour, and sharp tannins on the way down the digestive tract.
Clearly an older more mature sandy is desirable, however given the thick
fuller texture of the lower sand, it's ability to remain out of the nostril
tract and likeliness not to contact glass contaminates; I give it 3 for
colour 7 smell and 3 for pallet. With the finer elements of sand tasting
documented, I should continue with beach volleyball.
The first game was tight, very tight, I felt it was my complete lack of a
serve which eventually lead to our demise at 14-16. The second game again
was close, however those opponents prove to be slightly too good for us, as
our skills were still improving. In the last game our pre-match preparation
and mental concentration proved way too great for our opponents, and we won
in a convincing fashion, 8-15, almost looking like we could play the game.
The heat of the day meant that copious amounts of sun block were required.
So much so that by the end of the day you look like cousin IT only covered
in sand not hair. It was high time to leave I thought, and being on a mental
high note and suffering from chronic sunburn convinced me of it. I decided
to seek shade. Mid beach shade isn't an option so alas it was time to go
Home.
Rob
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