The year was 1977. DB is a brand of beer. Dedicated to all those who were there: Brett, Bev, Ron, Gray, Rob, Marie and anyone else I forgot.
Bright sun lit the sky and I lit a joint and the mood was gay and our spirits free - down the old coast road to Te Arai Point on that long dusty trail through Forestry. As surf breaks rolled in upon the beach wall we heard the waves over the radio static - slowly I climbed the jagged rocks should I fall lest my death, like our camera, be instamatic! Summer school daze of “substance” over style - a DB or six in the tussock grass, when the gulf wind off Great Barrier Isle blew waves to the shore and sand up my ar-se! Late a campfire did blaze a windward chill when long into the night its flame we’d stoke, and gazed at the stars till we had our fill with magic silver bullets up in smoke. I look back now on that castaway beachhead to my sepia youth frozen in kodachrome - when back to the world up the backroads led we hit the trail and the hot pools home. Summer school daze of “substance” over style - a DB or six in the tussock grass, when the gulf wind off Great Barrier Isle blew waves to the shore and sand up my ar-se! Written: March 1995
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