|The bay of Bondi, with Waverley Cemetery in the distance.|
Out the back of the bay, they turned where the lie of the ocean floor transformed the swell into the breakers that would crash onto the beach. Their glistening shoulders strained with each pull creating a rhythmical glide. Past the cemetery, past the swarming cliff walk, past the glimmering white of the club until, cutting a clean swathe through the sand, they heaved to, once more, upon the beach.
|7am surf boat training for ladies|