Tracks Magazine Issue 581

FA N TA S EA - A S IMP LER TIME

NO.

581

ISSN 1032-3317

Shimmy Disco • Shaun Tomson • Tai Graham’s Empire of Fun • Ry Craike vs. The Cyclone • Costa Rica & Indo • Untold Tales From Morning of the Earth • Classic Goodvibes 9 771032 331028

04 AU $14.99 INC.GST NZ $15.95 INC.GST

Continuous line, series of marks, left by person, animal or thing in passing along

2X WORLD SURFING CHAMPION

© 2020 Patagonia, Inc.

When the Basque beauty is churning top-to-bottom, near-endless drainpipes over sand, it’s okay to feel a little giddy. Dan Ross in Mundaka, Spain. Al Mackinnon

Our Yulex® natural rubber* wetsuits are here to make oil- and limestone-based neoprene suits a chapter of your dark past.

If you knew the dangers of petroleum- and limestone-based neoprene wetsuit manufacturing, would you buy them? Would you let your children wear them in the lineup? (Hopefully) no. Which is why we’ve tapped into alternative methods to construct our wetsuits since we started making them. Our Yulex® natural rubber wetsuits* come from the hevea tree, are made for the sea and leave a lighter footprint on the environment than ever before. It’s time to take a stand against the dirty neoprene peddler and do what’s best for the natural world. Demand more from your wetsuits.

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Introduction Opposite: The Sco’ Mo’ Surf Team has grown in numbers over the course of the pandemic. Are you on the team? Illustration: Jeremy Jones Lightfoot

SURFED-OUT SUMMONING THE ENERGY FOR ONE MORE SESSION.

Ever surfed so much that you wake up praying for it to be flat, only to be confronted by the sight of another new pulse of swell bending into a well-sculpted bank at your local? There’s a dull ache in your muscles, the wetsuit rash on your neck looks like a ghost spent the night sandpapering your skin, and your stinging eyes resemble a topographic map with their webs of bright red lines.

Despite the various ailments from which you are suffering, after one look at the waves you know you have to go out. This swell might be the last before the summer doldrums kick in, and what if that really is the best the banks are for another year? Better shrug off the lethargy and get amongst it just in case.

And sure enough, once you hit the water and feel the rail bite on the first turn all that fatigue magically slips away. The endorphins start pumping and your mind and body are energised, immediately open to all the possibilities the session presents. You can paddle like a maniac against the rip bowl current, hoot wildly as you watch a friend get a wave and summon unknown forces to throw all your weight behind a cutback. Wave after wave it goes like that until you’re confident you’ve made the most of the fleeting opportunity and resign yourself to coming in.

The COVID months have been cruel in many ways, but it seems the misery of lockdown and restricted travel has at least been offset by an abundance of swell. Courtesy of the pandemic, some of us have been liberated by more flexible work schedules. Days can now be planned around the arrival of optimal tide and wind conditions. Meanwhile, with few work options available, some have been enjoying the ‘surfseeker’ perks of the Sco’ Mo’ surf team. Cash-flow is low, but wave quotas are high with a Centrelink sponsorship. No, it can’t last forever without leading to economic crisis, but while businesses are shut, and jobs are scarce there’s little to do but go surfing.

COVID has claimed lives, but it has also robbed Australian youth of two precious years, you can’t begrudge them a few extra waves as compensation.

My own recent surfathon was the result of a perfect coalescence of circumstances. A run of swell coincided with optimal winds and a couple of rare banks within the 5km radius I was permitted to travel. The motivation to surf was further compelled by my registration for SurfAid’s ‘Make a Wave’ challenge. The idea was to surf every day in September to raise funds for women and kids in marginalised regions of Indonesia. It was all

the extra encouragement I needed to tap into my inner surf junkie.

When the swell finally slowed up and the good banks collapsed, I figured I’d done pretty well during the purple patch. As I pulled up at the local carpark the morning after the conditions went awry, I watched a 20-knot southerly whip at the lineup like a vengeful God. As I pondered how I might fill the day, a mate rolled up beside me. Talk soon turned to the recent run of swell – the peak moments, our most prized rides, and the ones we’d witnessed. As the excitable conversation reached its natural conclusion, my mate said proudly, “I must have put in 25-30hrs in the water over the last week.” I did the rough sums on my own session times and then turned to look at the surf. The southerly had gone up another notch and thrashed at the surface in cruel gusts. A few hardy souls stabbed at the crumbling peaks and between waves lifted their arms to shield their eyes from the wind-flicked spray. Stoically, I walked around to the back of the car and suited up. I figured I had some catching-up to do. - Luke Kennedy

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Contents Editor Luke Kennedy luke@tracksmedia.com.au Creative Director / Deputy Editor Ben Bugden ben@tracksmedia.com.au

General Manager / Director of Marketing & Advertising Damian Martin damian@tracksmedia.com.au +61 (0) 417 168 663

ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF COUNTRY Tracks Magazine and its staff acknowledge the Traditional Owners of the land on which we operate our business, the Arakwal people of the Bundjalung Nation & the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation. We pay our respects to Elders past, present and emerging. We also extend our respect to all the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people across all of country. Tracks celebrates the rich history of the world’s oldest living culture and their continuing connection to land, water and community.

Social Media Manager Luke Faddy faddy@tracksmedia.com.au

Archivist

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Lightbox - The best images from the last couple of months.

Head Dips - an entrée sized serve of surf snippets.

Memory Millionaire - A deep dive into Joli’s archive.

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Fantasea - Artists deliver their illustrated surf nirvana.

Water Coloured Waves - A series of paintings by Dave Sparkes.

Priceless - A tale of theft, betrayal & a stack of Tracks.

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Goodvibes - Revisiting the best of the Pig of Steel.

Lineup - A bit of wave-porn for dessert.

Ray Henderson

Contributors - Anthony Pancia, Jamie Brisick, Melissa Connell, Fred Pompermayer, Jordan Rodin, Ben Mondy, Alan van Gysen, Kirk Owers, Steve Ryan, Al Mackinnon, Jason Childs, Tom Pearsall, Nathan Oldfield, Brian Bielmann, Dom Mosqueira, Joli, Swilly, SA Rips, Andrew Shields, Peter Boskovic, Dom Mosqueira, Greg Nagel, Greg Ewing, Emily Brugman, Phil Jarratt, Corey Wilson, Karen Hudson, Kate Allman, Tim Baker, Trevor Moran, Bill Morris, Tom De Souza, Mark McInnis, Wayne Murph, Morgan Bernard, Craig Peterson

Subscriptions: subscribe.tracksmag.com.au Email: subscribe@tracksmedia.com.au

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Dimity Stoyle is bringing the music.

An open door with Shaun Tomson.

Welcome to Tai Graham’s Empire of Fun.

CEO: Peter Strain peter@tracksmedia.com.au Co-owner: David Mulham Co-owner: Greg Cooper

Independently published by Tracks Media Pty Ltd

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Ry Craike Vs. The Kalbarri Cyclone.

Are you a traveller or are you a tourist?

Albe Falzon’s untold anecdotes from Morning of the Earth.

Tracks is published by Tracks Media Pty Ltd ACN: 646 929 053, SE1005 L10 97-99 Bathurst St SYDNEY NSW 2000 All rights reserved. No part of this magazine may be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the prior permission of the publisher. Printed in Australia by IVE, distributed in Australia by Ovato Retail Distribution. ISSN 1032-3317. The publisher will not accept responsibility or any liability for the correctness of information or opinions expressed in the publication. All material submitted is at the owner’s risk and, while every care will be taken Tracks Media does not accept liability for loss or damage.

PRIVACY POLICY - We value the integrity of your personal information. If you provide personal information through your participation in any competitions, surveys or offers featured in this issue of Tracks Magazine, this will be used to provide the products or services that you have requested and to improve the content of our magazines. Your details may be provided to third parties who assist us in this purpose. In the event of organisations providing prizes or offers to our readers, we may pass your details on to them. From time to time, we may use the information you provide us to inform you of other products, services and events our company has to offer. We may also give your information to other organisations which may use it to inform you about their products, services and events, unless you tell us not to do so. You are welcome to access the information that we hold about you by getting in touch with our privacy officer, who can be contacted at Tracks Media, 23 Lamrock Ave, Bondi Beach, NSW, 2026

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Classic MP from the filming of Morning of the Earth. For more, head to pg.90, where Albe Falzon delivers a series of untold anecdotes from the making of the film.

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SURF ER: LACHLAN LE MAR S E NY P H OTO : BILL MO R R I S

At first glance this shot of Lachlan Lemarseny making the descent on a wind-clawed arch of ocean looks like some kind of outer island reef in Hawaii. You wouldn’t know it’s a twenty-buck Uber ride from Sydney’s CBD. Back in the 80s you could have stumbled out of the surf here and into the fabled Salinas Bar to watch Midnight Oil play live. The ’Oils of course wrote a classic instrumental track about the rocky outcrop that gives this wave its name, ‘Wedding Cake Island’.

Southside photographer, Bill Morris, believes this late autumn rumble of swell produced the biggest and cleanest conditions he’s ever witnessed at Wedding Cake. “When I showed up just after first light, there had to be a couple that were 20-foot,” insists Bill. “I was blown away.” Lachlan Lemarseny was similarly in awe as he gripped his 9’0” Webster alongside Jeremy Wilmotte and negotiated the precarious entry. “Once I got to the jump off spot I saw the biggest, scariest set I’ve ever seen,” recalls Lachie. “The rock- off is as sketchy as it gets and things can get really ugly if you time it wrong.

With eight-footers breaking onto dry rock it was a scramble down the ledge but luckily both Jeremy and I made it out.”

Having witnessed the unsettling lurch of the early bomb sets, most of the pack sat as far out as possible. “I didn’t get my first wave for 45 minutes,” explains Lachie.” The paydirt moment arrived soon after. “I made my way back out into the take-off zone, as I did that set popped up, and I was lucky enough to be in position. I just put my head down and paddled, got a little chip in and got to my feet.” Out of the corner of his eye, Lachie spotted his good mate Oscar Tate scrambling up the vertical wall. “… He bravely rolled halfway up the face so as to not bail his board in front of me,” explains Lachie, obviously grateful for the sacrifice.

“The drop was easily the biggest and most vertical I have ever had. I couldn’t believe I made it to where I did given how much it doubled up,” recalls Lachie. “Unfortunately, I hit some chop and fell super awkwardly. The lip landed on my back and exploded me into the air for what felt like a couple of seconds – it was a surreal, weightless feeling. What followed was the most violent thrashing of my life.”

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SU RF E R: N IC K C O L B EY SEQ U E N CE : DYL AN G R ANT

Nick Colbey knew he had to paddle out on his own. The thick, desert-fringed slab was sixeight foot and only the deftest of backdoor takeoffs gave you a chance at making it. The wave was violent enough to cause serious injury and proper medical help was well over a tank of gas away. However, in this notoriously sharky stretch it was the psychological barrier that was perhaps hardest to overcome. “It’s a constant mental battle out there,” explains Nick by phone.

By this stage Nick had already travelled halfway around Australia, enlisting good friend, Dylan Grant, to document the journey for a film.

However, several weeks into the trip they had nothing in the can that constituted a wave of genuine consequence. Paradoxically, a couple of years earlier, it had been Nick behind the camera making the Tracks production ‘Wanderlust’ which featured Mikey Wright and Louie Hynd roaming OZ. “Making Wanderlust inspired my own wanderlust,” chuckles Colbey, who has always been a good enough surfer to keep his film subjects honest.

However, at this point he was ready to throw in the towel on his own project. On the morning this shot was taken he’d cartwheeled out of the lip at another unforgiving wave, snapped his board and stumbled in demoralised. “I was so down on myself,” reflects Colbey. “I was pretty much ready to give up on the movie.”

When he paddled out alone later in the day at the flexing ledge featured in this shot, there was a lot on the line. He’d quit a band and broken up with a girlfriend and then poured himself into this film, which was sinking fast and taking his selfworth with it. When Colbey ultimately speared out the end of this barrel he remembers feeling like he’d changed his fortunes with a single ride. “It meant a lot more than it seemed,” he explains. “It was a real sliding doors moment.”

As for the movie? Just google the title ‘Hooroo’ on YouTube for a classic, Oz surf adventure and keep an eye out for this wave – the one that changed everything.

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SU RF E R: G REG LO N G PHOTO : MAR IA BASTI DAS

Shooting from the water at Puerto Escondido is no easy feat. The photographer has to contend with detonating lips, violent undertows and random A-frames to be in position. “Puerto is definitely one of the scariest places to shoot from the water,” professes Mexican-born, Maria Bastidas, who has been travelling to the wave sometimes known as Mex’ Pipe for the last eight years with her camera gear in tow.

On this occasion, Maria had only been in the water for 20 minutes when a triangulated swell gripped the far northern peak known as Carmelitas. “My friend who was swimming with me, started yelling and pointing to look back, when I did, I saw this perfect wave forming, and Greg paddling into it.”

Greg Long has been a Puerto devotee for well over a decade. He’s been know to wait hours for a single wave and has an uncanny knack for being in the spot when those ‘special ones’ arrive. “It was almost like he knew it was coming,” recalls Maria, who instantly spun around and aimed her lens at the dramatic fold of ocean. “Even though there was not a single wave like that the entire morning. It was definitely the wave of the day, some say maybe even of the whole season.”

“I wasn’t even sure that I got the shot. All the surfers in the lineup, started to approach me, asking if I had got it,” explains Maria.

With her flippers dangling and camera still clad in the heavy protective layer of the housing there was no way for Maria to confirm she’d immortalised the moment. Riddled with excitement and uncertainty she went straight in to analyse the contents of her camera. As Maria anxiously scrolled back through the images she was delighted with what she found. “I couldn’t believe it, I had gotten my best photo in Puerto Escondido so far, and of Greg Long!”

Maria later sent the sequence to Greg. It wasn’t the first time the two had connected for a Puerto wave but he soon confirmed it was certainly their finest moment together. “He said that it was probably one of the best photos he has ever had!” Maria explains proudly.

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S URF ER: BEN MACARTNEY P HOTO : BILL MO R R I S

In a modern age the swell forecaster is a central figure in surf culture. No one influences the daily decisions and expectations of the surfing tribe more than those entrusted with the role of predicting what the waves will be doing in a day, a week, or a month from now. Want to take a day off to surf, run a local contest or plan a strike mission? Check the diagnostics supplied by the forecaster.

need just one day of good waves to pull off their controversial new finals format. As to when they hit the trigger in the nine-day waiting period depends heavily on the advice of the forecasting sages.

Although we might occasionally malign the inaccuracies of their reports, we can’t deny that we are fortunate to live in an era where professional forecasters provide us with daily Seeking a historical parallel, one might liken updates in readily digestible graphs, columns, the forecaster to ancient soothsayers and and summaries. It’s a far cry from the times prophets. Kings and commoners alike would when we squinted at the synoptic charts in place great stock in the predictions and divine the papers or frantically glimpsed the nightly interpretations of these oracles. In Greece TV weather flash and made our own rough around 140 BC pilgrims travelled from near guesses about the waves. Admittedly, this made and far to consult Pythia on everything from us feel proudly independent and more devoted when a crop should be planted, to the right time as surfers, but the modern swell forecasters for declaring war, or setting sail. Throughout are far more accurate than our own backyard the ages there have been many more Seers meteorology. whose counsel was eagerly sought. Perhaps the forecasters would resent the comparison It’s also worth remembering that these experts between meteorology and mythology, but there are not just faceless women and men. They is no denying they have a prophet-like status in surf too. In fact, you might be more trusting the surfing community. And although they may of a forecaster if you know they have a mean not be responsible for the launch of military frontside hack and an acute tube addiction – campaigns, forecasters can certainly let us surely their own self-interest in the waves would make them better understand the importance know when we should reach for our guns. of getting the calls, right?

If you enjoy extreme flexibility (as many of us have in the recent work-from-home window) However, with the weight of the ocean’s you can literally base your life on the whims of expectations resting on your shoulders, being a forecaster can sometimes be a thankless task. a swell forecast.

If people see you in the water and the waves are Swell-chasing freesurfers or synoptic beatniks not nearly as good as you predicted they might as they are sometimes known have been doing glower like you stole their kids’ Christmas this for years. Meanwhile, as I write, the WSL presents, or worse still vocally blame you for

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their bad day. And if someone catches a known forecaster in a quiet moment between sets they are likely to pepper them with all kinds of questions about impending swell and wind changes, when all they want to do is catch a wave too.

Surfline forecaster, Ben Macartney, knows all about it. Ben is a dedicated surfer who has been known to cross the continent to put himself in the path of one of the swells he’s forecast. However, sometimes fortune strikes a little closer to home. Just the other day I was out in the water with Ben and I was in fact that annoying guy picking his brain about the evolving conditions. Shortly after, I found myself standing on shore alongside a couple of other Sydney locals, staring back at the ocean. It was a good day and you kinda wanted to linger and watch after you’d come in so you could mind-surf the wave you might have missed out on. Sure enough, as we were standing on the beach, Ben Macartney swung into a howler, deftly knifed a late take-off and speared across a reeling left as the lip chucked behind him. It was as if the swell prophet had somehow made the perfect prediction – the one that put him in exactly the right spot for the best wave of the day.

On the beach, we all gave a little cheer, figuring that Ben probably deserved it. Fortunately, Bill Morris was on hand to capture the serendipitous moment with all three of us watching on.

POWERED BY NATURE

doctorv.com.au

Head Dips BEHIND THE COVER: ‘A SIMPLER TIME’ BY PHIL MEATCHEM Artist Phil Meatchem is an Archibald Prize finalist whose connection with Tracks spans decades. Many will remember his iconic illustrations of rubberlimbed legends, Mark Richards and Larry Bertlemann, while he painted portraits of all the Australian World Champs for our 40th anniversary issue.

For this cover Phil dialled in the kind of feel good ‘Australiana’ vibe that makes you feel lucky to be a surfer living Down Under.

This print will soon be available for purchase at Tracksmag.com and you can pre-order at support@tracksmedia.com.au

LOCKDOWN LESSONS

CLASSIC AD

LEARN UKULELE ONLINE If you’re currently in lockdown, chances are you’ve probably got some time to kill. One of the best ways to do that, while also aquiring a new skill, is to learn an instrument. What could be better than noodling away the hours on a ukulele.

Hey, if it’s good enough for Tom Curren it’s good enough for us. Stephanie Sims of Uko Ono has been plucking the strings of the uke for decades and now she’s offering online classes for those looking to bring a bit of music into their lives. ukoono.com.au

LOCKDOWN ART! Angus Holden is not an artist nor was he ever meant to be but lockdown does strange things to mere mortals.

When engineers start becoming creative and painting their favourite surfing magazine, you know that the restrictions have been in place for too long. Send your Tracks masterpiece to enquiries@tracksmedia.com.au

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This classic 70s ad for Henri surfboards has been raised from the dead because we love the fact that Chris Henri wasn’t afraid to have a little fun with a graveyard joke. With so many boards being made out of Brookvale at that time you needed something a little quirky in your ad campaign to stand out. Henri also had a showroom and shop on Griffith street Curl Curl.

A quick search brings up an image of one of the Henri team riders, Russell Lewis, flanked by racks of colourful Hawaiian shirts while showing off a couple of magic looking new boards.

Back then Lewis was a legend at Dee Why Point, but ultimately went on to become a coach for Bethany Hamilton. Meanwhile, Chris Henri moved up the coast to Coffs Harbour and went into business with his son, Byron. They’re still shaping boards that you can RIP on. Give them a call on 0422 336 546.

Ride Everything

I SPENT HALF MY MONEY ON SURFBOARDS AND THE REST I WASTED. WILL WEBBER’S ‘WING YONG’ MODEL

While beyond-vert slabs and throttling points are part of the Australian wavescape, we spend much of our time riding two-to-four foot beachies that feature a mixture of steeper pockets and flatter sections. In such a varied playing field the elusive search for the ideal allround board is often about finding a ride that is curvy enough to grant you access to those steep, juicy pockets but still maintains enough speed when you hit a flatter section.

Will Webber’s ‘Wing Yong’ model offers a meaningful solution to the infinite quest for synergy between planing speed, pivot, and critical sections access.

Although Will’s website suggests the Wing Yong model has a slightly flatter rocker, it’s still got plenty of bend, particularly through the nose. Indeed, as someone suggested to me the other day, curve might just be in the Webber DNA (Will’s brother Greg, is well known for the extreme rocker in his boards).

The generous but not excessive rocker lets the Wing Yong transport you to those steeper, more critical sections of the wave when you want to. Meanwhile, the board’s slightly wider outline and forward volume helps maintain the glide between turns and hold speed when the wave gets a little

sloppier between sections – providing you stay on your game and keep the board pivoting.

The pivoting capabilities of the Wing Yong are aided by the wing-swallow set-up. The wing gives you an obvious release point upon which to focus the weight of your turns on, while the shallow swallow tail delivers a welcome mix of drive and hold.

The single to double concave is slight, so there’s less grab on the wave face, and the whole pivot factor is further amplified by the hint of vee through the tail.

I had most fun riding the Wing Yong in bowly two to four-foot waves with a bit of push and a well-defined pocket.

Meanwhile, Victorian stand-out Adam Robertson fell in love with an epoxy version of the Wing Yong at the Urbnsurf wave pool in Melbourne. “The volume in the front combined with the reduction in the tail volume helped it turn really tightly,” explains Robbo. “It allowed it to fit in the pocket of that wave (Urbnsurf) really easily… On the lefts and the rights, it very quickly became the best board I’d ridden there.”

go to for his ’ Juc sessions. “Ultimately, I ended up surfing it into the ground on a thousand waves at the wave pool,” claims Robbo. Former Urbnsurf marketing manager, Rupert Partridge, was also a big fan. “I love the Wing Yong. The best all-round board I’ve owned. I’m on to my third,” enthused Rupert who is now the director of Product and Revenue with a different wave pool company – Aventuur Inc. I rode a 5’8” model and tweaked the dimensions slightly, going for a hint more thickness than width in the standard 5’8”.

This board is anything but a fish but can probably be ridden an inch or so shorter than your standard board. If you want to increase the paddle power add some thickness.

All round the Wing Yong was a lively performer that challenged you to look for the pocket and was full of pleasant surprises when you found the sweet spot.

Ideal for pinballing around a rip-bowl, but also suitable for a bowly point break with a few flat sections. willwebbersurfboards.com.au

At his regular beachie, Jan Juc, Robbo played with the fins to add a little more drive, but the Wing Yong soon became a

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Head Dips STUDY FINDS SURFING PRODUCT TERMINOLOGY IS JUST TAKING THE PISS NOW An enquiry conducted by the Australian Researchers of Surfing Ethics (A.R.S.E), into the terminology used to descr ibe technology within surfing products has today concluded that brands are officially taking the piss.

The study also found that no one is sure how we went from the word ‘seam’ to describe the meeting point for two p i e c e s o f r u bb e r t o t h e 2 0 - s y l l a bl e tong ue twi s te r ‘ N a nobutte r Te c hnoPar ticle-Bot Rubberization Infiltration Tech ™.

MORNING OF THE EARTH 50TH ANNIVERSARY COLLECTABLE BOOK AND DIGITALLY REMASTERED EDITION The meticulously curated coffee table tome showcases 170 remastered images from the film and 50 screen grabs from the never-before-seen ‘Lost Reels.’ The book is a timeless tribute to an iconic film. Comes with a fully remastered 4K version of ‘Morning of the Earth’ and the 30-minute ‘Lost Reels’ film.

Pre-orders available at Morningofthe earth.com

VERBATIM

“It’s never been easier to set off halfway across the world (lockdowns excluded), but it’s becoming increasingly challenging to experience a destination’s culture.

Instead, travellers are forcefed curated versions of a culture that’s a mere shell of its Indigenous self.”

– Morgan Bernard from Traveller or Tourist? – Pg.078

PROJECT BLANK - 2/2MM HIGH PERFORMANCE LONG ARM SPRINGSUIT Project Blank’s whole mission is to deliver high-quality, mor e s us ta in a bl e we t s u it s , without a heavy-hitting price tag, and they’re doing just that! Get your self into this Supreme stretch ecolimestone neoprene (no petrochemical nasties) long sleeve spring suit today! projectblank.com.au

THE HUNGRY SURFER WITH JENNY BENNY: GARLIC SOURDOUGH LOCKDOWN LOAF 1 x loaf artisan bread (I used homemade sourdough) • 4-6 cloves garlic 1/2 Cup butter (melted) • Bunch of Parlsey • Pinch of Sea Salt A campfire or BBQ • (Cheese opt.)

Cut your loaf in to 1/2 inch wide slices avoiding slicing all the way through as you want the pieces to remain attached to the loaf. Mince garlic and parsley, melt butter and mix together. Using a spoon drizzle the parsley butter in to the cracks making sure to coat the whole loaf. Sprinkle a pinch of salt over loaf. Wrap up tight in tin foil, twisting ends to make it easier to lift out if using fire pit. Tongs are also your friend here. Cook 15-20 minutes or until done. Smash. @jennybennyfoodco

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Good Reads

FOUR LOCKDOWN PAGE-TURNERS A SELECTION OF RECENTLY RELEASED PAGE-TURNERS WITH SURF THEMES.

Fiction: ‘The Purple Patch’ by Monty Webber Like some kind of fiberglass Excalibur, The Purple Patch is a surfboard that has a profound impact on whoever possesses it. Each chapter is a mini-tale about someone’s volatile encounter with the seemingly possessed board – a young schoolgirl, a schizophrenic pot smoker, a Vietnam-bound soldier and a draftdodging beatnik all fall under the spell of the Purple Patch. A quintessentially Australian yarn set in the 60s and 70s that spans the east coast and introduces an array of classic characters.

Available at: www.gertrudeandalice.com.au and amazon.com.au Fiction: ‘Mine’ by James Russell A slender book that reads like a thrilling late take-off that hurls you down the line with your toes just gripping the wax. After 26-year-old Jimmy Brennan busts up with his deceitful girlfriend and buries his mother, he bails to Indo. Disenchanted by the Bali crowds and haunted by recent events, he feels compelled to keep moving north through the archipelago until he

ultimately arrives at North Sentinel Island, a forbidden realm that is home to a forgotten tribe and a handful of worldclass waves. A gripping plot that has an almost autobiographical realism about it.

Brennan gets the surf syntax right while still making his wave descriptions sound original.

Available at: amazon.com.au

perfect Mundaca swell. An intriguing novel that works on a number of different levels.

Based on a true story.

Available at: booktopia.com.au and amazon.com.au Non-Fiction: ‘Waterproof ’ – Australian Surf Photography Since 1858 by John Ogden

Fiction: ‘Mundaca’ by Owen Hargreaves

Featuring the work of Australia’s leading surf photographers from the first known photograph of the Australian surf zone through to 20th century boom in surfing Set in the charming, Spanish surf town and the contemporary scene. Featured of Mundaca in the late 70s, the novel photographers include Richard Daintree, delicately marries golden-era surf travel Frank Hurley, Harold Cazneaux, Jack with espionage and romance. Fresh out of Eden, John Witzig, Peter Crawford, school, young Australian, Owen, heads to Ted Grambeau, Joli, Bill Morris, Tim Europe before planning to start a medical McKenna, Russell Ord, ‘Rich’ Richards, degree. Owen wants new experiences and Stuart Gibson, Leroy Bellet, Ray Collins to track down the brother who has gone and dozens more. Meticulously compiled walkabout in Europe. When he falls for a striking Spanish girl, Maite, it’s not just the and featuring high-end production values, it’s a great Christmas present. reeling rivermouth left that keeps him in Mundaca. However, it soon emerges that Maite has mysterious connections to the Available at: Basque separatists, ETA, who revile the cyclopsproductions.com.au fascist leader, General Franco. While Owen grows increasingly concerned he is a pawn in a dangerous ETA plot, he is pulled in by his love for Maite and his hopes for a

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Top: Miguel Blanco isn’t one for doing things by halves, both in the water and when it comes to minimising his impact on the planet. Photo: Paavo Tamminen • Bottom: It was witnessing the shocking amount of trash innundating the Maldives that changed Miguel’s path. Photo: Maldives Surf Photography

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Environment

SUSTAINABLE SURFER FREESURFER AND FORMER CT WILDCARD, MIGUEL BLANCO, IS ASKING HARD QUESTIONS ABOUT EVERYTHING HE BUYS AND CONSUMES. Written by Mara Pyzel

Surfing isn’t new to Miguel Blanco. The 25-year-old has been catching waves in his native Ericeira since his grom days. Being a standout in the water quickly propelled him into the classic pro-surf trajectory: regional contests, sponsorships, trophies, and titles.

Freesurfing his way across the world’s premier breaks, Blanco logged days worth of video, gracing surf mag covers, landing CT wildcard spots, and winning National Championships. But as Blanco matured into adulthood, so did his thirst for novelty and thrill and the long-haired regular-footer found himself zipping up his board bag and setting off in search of a challenge.

2020 hit Blanco with the greatest challenge of his life.

It was on a near paradisiacal surf trip in the perfect waves of the Maldives when Blanco was struck by his come-to-Jesus moment. “We were having the best time, but I was astonished with the amount of plastic [in the] waves and the devaluation of the problem,” said Blanco, repulsed by the plastic accumulation in the break. He knew the Maldive population wasn’t to blame – it was a tidal wasteland made by global consumption, our universal need for new, more, better, and our First World eagerness to throw away and start anew. Face-to-face with the environmental degradation, the guy had a mid-wave moment of clarity. He knew what he had to do: “There was a little island full of trash right where the safari boats were parked and I felt like it was time to take action. With the help of the local crew, [we] cleaned up the small island.” It was a small gesture, but for Blanco, it was the start of some very big moves.

Packing his bags, Blanco returned home where tough talks and a personal lifestyle confrontation awaited. “By the end of the Maldives trip, I had decided to drop Sumol, a canned drink that used to sponsor me,

when I realised they were the cause of a fair amount of pollution on the island.” He knew it was a financial risk. Still, Blanco regrets nothing.

“It was [challenging],” he admits. Blanco remained steadfast in his values, determined to pursue a more environmentally-friendly way of life, despite the personal hardship.

“Sponsors keep me surfing and following my dreams, but it was the right thing to do. When you realise that a brand you are promoting is one of the ones most responsible for the waste you’ve witnessed in a place you feel so connected with, you have to take action.” His refusal to back down proved worthwhile – and he is helping Sumol shift to more sustainable business practices. “I’m currently in the background trying to help find solutions to reverse the negative footprint they have left.”

He’s helping others, closer to home, too.

Blanco now hungers for earth-friendly meals, and, in meat-heavy Portugal, greens over ‘teins can be rough going. Still, Blanco strives to return to an environmental Eden, satisfying a post-surf crave with locally sourced fruits and veg. “Start with the food you eat,” the newly-minted, green-eats guru advises. He’s persuasive – he even got dear ol’ mum on board, proving it’s never too late to make a change. “When I began making veggie meals as part of my new routine, she thought I was crazy, but she eventually started to support it and now she follows a more green diet as well!”

To stick to his principles, Blanco has a secret weapon, a mental cheat-sheet. “Making more conscious choices comes from being honest with yourself and asking simple questions like ‘How do I feel about buying this? Where does it come from? How was it produced? How far has travelled to reach our dinner table?’”

The strategy has helped the mostly vegpowered surfer source more than his next meal. “This goes along with the kind of clothes we choose to wear and even our transport methods.” Stressed yet? Don’t be.

“I know it’s not easy,” he concedes, then offers up some words of encouragement: “Perfection doesn’t exist; all we can do is try our best.”

Despite his willingness to offer advice, the guy has remained grounded and humble.

He hasn’t – yet, at least – become that overzealous, obnoxiously judgemental sidekick, ready to call you on your every misstep – you know the one. Blanco lets his actions take the lead, turns out, leading by example pays off.

Through a partnership with Fuel TV and that ever-popular YouTube platform, Blanco has a global lens documenting his ongoing, soul searching, pursuit of sustainability.

IMPACT as he describes it, is: “A series of around the world adventures where I get to know some of the biggest problems, but also learn about new solutions and encourage local projects.” The increased exposure means he’s held accountable as he stumbles his way towards making the world a better place. Frankly, his struggle is relatable, learning as he goes, and inviting the world along on his journey. “Everything is so fresh to me and I’m learning every day, but my intent is to share it and spread the message.”

The creative and motivated young gun has outgrown naivete. He knows lasting change requires more than the advice of recycling’s chasing arrows. But Blanco’s personal awakening shows just how simple it can be to wake up one day and decide to change the world. “We live in one world, so we better act together like one.”

IMPACT is streaming on Fuel TV Globally and available on YouTube

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PHOTO: RUSSELL ORD

Memory Millionaire A DEEP DIVE INTO THE PHOTO ARCHIVE OF PETER ‘JOLI’ WILSON, AKA THE MEMORY MILLIONAIRE.

ROSS CLARKE-JONES, DANNY WILLS & CARWYN WILLIAMS - ALL DOWN THE LINE

The story behind this image of the boys (and girls) in this classic red Cadillac is a long tale, which all started close to a year before it was taken. In early 1988, Quiksilver made surfing history when they signed a million-dollar sponsorship contract with Tom Carroll, with one of the clauses being that Tom be included in their film projects.

From Tom’s perspective, an important part of that clause was a commitment to make a feature film that would showcase his extraordinary tube riding ability in waves of consequence.

As Quiksilver’s Australasian Advertising and Marketing Manager at the time, there were months of planning with all the Quiksilver offices around the world, before finally a surf trip to G-Land was announced.

Surfing Magazine was going to cover the trip. Tom’s brother, Nick, was along to write the article and staff photographer, Jeff Hornbaker, would be shooting stills.

Cameramen, Dan Merkel, was shooting water footage and Dick Hoole had been assigned to shoot from the land. I was along to shoot

stills as well as coordinate the logistics of the To tie all the surfing together, some of the Quik team riders had to become actors. trip. It was all systems go.

After his exploits in ‘Mad Wax’ Ross Clarke It absolutely pumped during our trip, and Jones was cast as the party boy cruising we scored amazing footage of Tom Carroll up the Pacific Highway in a bright red surfing classic G-Land, however, it wasn’t Cadillac convertible with his mates Carwyn enough to make a whole film. Over the Williams and Jake Spooner, flanked by a next six months, footage of Tom and the bevy of beautiful girls. The boys in their red Quiksilver team was shot during the North Cadillac hit Byron Bay and hooked up with Shore winter, before filmmaker, Paul Witzig, a 13-year-old Danny Wills, or as Tom calls came on board as Director with his wife him throughout the film, Daniel, for some Marianne as Producer to pull the project ‘grommet training’ and as a surf guide. together.

There are some funny and cringe-worthy To finish the film a loose script was put moments in the film. One of many being together with a production schedule based when the crew hit The Piggery, a Byron around the 1989 Pro contest season in Bay nightclub during the 80s, where I got a Australia. Paul Witzig was based in Yamba walk-on role as a Club Patron. There were and put forward the prospect of shooting also some glaring continuity clangers as the Angourie and breaks on the North Coast of crew drove around Byron in the Caddie, but funnily enough these ‘cringe’ scenes were the NSW around a swell. string that tied all the surfing together in the Jeff Booth, Dave Macaulay, Michael finished product which became the movie Rommelse, and Ross Clarke Jones were ‘All Down the Line’. - Joli on the east coast for the contests, and they were put on standby for a filming session at Angourie. If you can find a copy of the film, you can see the crew scored.

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ARTIST: P H IL MEATCH E M TITL E : SI MP L ER TIMES , NO RTH C OAST, NSW

Fantasea

Lately I’ve been reminiscing, so my Fantasea harks back to simpler times. North Coast trips where grassy headlands jutted out from natural bushland. Boards were big and fins were single. Tracks mag was in its infancy and Morning of the Earth was doing the rounds.

Glassy lines would roll into a little sandy bay. A couple of the boys were on it, with no intention of “destroying” the waves. This was a time of going with the flow.

DIMI T Y STOY LE IS B RI N G I N G THE MUSI C

Dimity Stoyle aka DJ Shimmy is one of surfing ’s most dynami c operato rs.

SURFER BY DAY, DJ BY NIGHT; THE SUNSHINE COAST BORN SHREDDER KNOWN AS SHIMMY DISCO HAS VOWED TO MAKE HER COMEBACK TO THE WSL CHALLENGER SERIES TOUR IN SEPTEMBER. AND IT’S MUSIC TO OUR EARS. Written by Kate Allman

When Dimity Stoyle was about eight years old, a primary school teacher took her parents aside to warn them about her future.

Dimity had been showing up to school with surf-drenched hair still dripping onto her school uniform. Forget skipping rope or playing handball with other kids: she had been sprinting into class as the bell rang after early morning surf sessions with her brother and dad. At little more than three- feet tall, a shock of salt-bleached hair mopping the crest of a toothy grin, this grommet had already abandoned conventional career plans.

“Dimity is going to be a professional surfer,” the teacher told Dimity’s parents.

Quelle surprise, they must have laughed back.

They had known this for a good few years already.

“I just knew, I knew when I was in grade two, that’s what I was gonna do,” Dimity says. She had caught the bug at four years old when her dad pushed her onto a wave in Byron Bay. Her mum was watching on the sand, dutifully taking photographs on a grainy disposable Kodak.

“I could never understand friends who couldn’t tell me what they wanted to be when they grew up. Because I was going to be a pro-surfer.”

Tenacious and real: that’s the impression teachers must have formed of young Dimity.

It’s an assessment that still rings true if you throw in party-starting additions like ‘fun’, ‘goofy’ and ‘everyone’s mate’. This writer witnessed all three of the latter attributes

earlier this year at Melbourne’s Urbnsurf wave pool. As I skittered through the chlorine tubes with plenty of wipeouts, Dimity sat in the channel whooping and cheering, even coaching me privately on a few, before swapping her wetsuit for a party shirt and mixing beats poolside as her alter ego ‘DJ Shimmy Disco’. I sat by the bar shaking water out of my ears, trying to make sense of this five-foot-three, margarita-swilling weapon, stroking the decks – who, just moments ago, had been dragging the entire rail of her board around perfect S-lines and sending long-haul sprays so far they might have wet the streets of Melbourne CBD. Sunshine Coast locals who watched her shimmy into packed lineups around her home breaks of Maroochydore and Noosa probably never questioned Dimity’s bright future. Crowded waves like the Pass at Byron – a regular destination on weekend surf trips with her family – became training grounds for the aspiring pro before she tested the waters on the equally congested Gold Coast (which she now calls home). High school friends even nicknamed her ‘Shimmy’, which later became her DJ name. It’s likely unrelated to surfing but an apt testament to how good she is at scoring waves in the most competitive of breaks.

As one example: during a recent, widelyInstagrammed swell at Kirra in July, Dimity paddled around for four hours hoping to score. The east coast was pumping for the first time in weeks, and everyone knew it: there were probably 400 people in the water at Coolangatta’s fabled right points.

Exhausted and about to give up, she strayed to the inside and turned to go in when a

peak approached. What materialised was an epic 12-second barrel ride that immediately exploded on the Internet, making lockeddown Sydney residents weep.

“That one came through and I was like, oh my God, there’s no one on my inside,” she says.

“I just had to go. You know when a wave is yours and you just go, oh God. I looked down the line and I didn’t have time to stall. I just had to race to get to the end. It was so dreamy.

I think it’s the best barrel I’ve ever had.”

“I came out so far down at Kirra that I literally thought no one would have seen it. As I was walking back down the beach I saw one of the guys with a camera who was like, ‘Was that you in that barrel? That was epic!’”

That’s Dimity Stoyle. Not fussed by who’s watching – mostly just stoked to be amongst it. But with the eye of the tiger and a killer instinct when her wave comes through.

It bodes well for the 29-year-old, who is about to have a second crack at living out her childhood dream of being a professional surfer. She’s booked her spot on the Challenger Series, to paddle out in her first event of the season at Huntington Beach, California, in September.

“I’m turning 30 in September, and my goal is to go and win the US Open,” she says. “I’ll turn 30 on my final day, so I at least want to make the final. If I make the final on my birthday, I’ll be happy.”

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as a Coolang atta wall Dimity Stoyle sets a line and remain s compose d Miller bends into some kind of wonder ful. Sequen ce: Damien

DIMI T Y S TOY LE IS BR ING I N G TH E MU S I C

Yo u ng D i m it y be fo re sh e wo rke d o ut t h at s h e p ref erred to ride with her lef t f oot f orward.

Judging by her second-grade career plan, Dimity is already living the dream. She’s sponsored by DHD, Creatures of Leisure and Glidz Japan – a wetsuit company kitting her out with custom-made designs in radical colours like a bright purple and white number with ‘Shimmy Disco’ emblazoned on the back. She qualified for the WSL Championship Tour (CT) back in 2015, at 22 years old, and spent two years competing on it. But she recalls being, “Young and a little bit dumb” during her first run on the CT.

“I just wanted to surf and wasn’t thinking too much about tactics in events or how I did,” she says.

“I remember I was just catching like a thousand waves at perfect Snapper.

It was pumping and I was up against Lakey [Petersen] and I was catching so many waves,

trying to get barrelled, but they weren’t scoring waves. I was in full free-surf mode.”

In those days the WSL ran the CT at the same time as the Qualifying Series (QS). This exhausting format was starkly different to the new 2021 format, which runs each level of competition at different times through the year, prior to the CT, so surfers aren’t overloaded by competing in multiple events at the same time.

That was under the old format, and they needed to change that because if you weren’t in the top five, you had to constantly chase the QS and you’d be constantly exhausted.

You never had free time to work on surfing.”

Those years on tour weren’t for nothing, though; Dimity gained experience, made friends, and travelled with a who’s-who of women’s surfing including Laura Enever, Nikki Van Dijk and fellow Queenslander Stephanie Gilmore. It was the seeds of those friendships that last year planted a new idea to make a surfing feature film during lockdown in 2020, when international surf events were called off due to COVID-19.

Dimity and Steph roped in filmmaker Dan Scott to shoot ‘Surfing’ – a women’s surfing

film shot in and around the Gold Coast with Nikki Van Dijk, Tyler Wright, and Macy Callaghan. The stars hosted ‘screenings’ of the film at pubs around Newcastle and Rottnest Island during the recent Australian leg of the WSL in 2021.

“We were all stuck at home on the Gold Coast, Steph and I were surfing together like every day,” Dimity says. “It was the first time we’d been home together for so long in years – probably the longest time Steph spent at home since she was about 16.

“We started filming with Dan Scott, just for fun to get some clips for Instagram and whatever. But we started having a few good sessions, then Macy was home and Nikki came up from Melbourne before lockdown, and Tyler also moved to the Gold Coast last year. So, we were all just surfing together every day and we had a couple of pumping days and said, ‘Let’s make a movie!’ The waves were pumping, it was probably the best year of waves on the Gold Coast I can remember.”

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DIM IT Y S T OY LE IS BRIN GIN G T HE M US I C

Rig h t : P la y i ng DJ se t s and wo rking as a ro v ing rep orter f or the W SL are p art of the act, but Dimity al so wan ts an oth e r sh o t a t li fe o n t h e CT. To p le ft : F ro nt side jam with a hail of sp ray p rovidin g the exclamation mark . Bottom le ft: Di mity hunt i ng fo r t h e rig h t t rack as t h e w ave g o e s in to a sp in . P hotos: Swilly

Since dropping off the CT, Dimity has added two more enviable titles to her dream resume: DJ and surf commentator.

“I always wanted to learn how to DJ properly for work, but I never really had time until I fell off the Tour,” she says.

“My brother had been a DJ in all the clubs when I was in high school, and he was going to sell his decks. I was like, ‘Don’t do that – I want them!’ And he was like, ‘Alright, I’ll teach you.’ It just went from there and I started getting gigs.”

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One of her now-regular gigs is spinning the decks overlooking the beach at Burleigh Pavilion on weekend afternoons. She’s also a popular choice to get parties started at major surf industry events like the Australian Surfing Awards.

In 2021, the WSL recognised her ability to capture an audience by asking if she’d like to help commentate the Australian events of the Championship Tour. She and Laura Enever took turns donning wetsuits, hoods, and booties to sit on the back of a Jet Ski at Merewether in Newcastle and then freezing Strickland Bay on Rottnest Island, providing entertaining in-water crosses as they tried (unsuccessfully at times) to avoid being swamped by sets. The pair became an hilarious side show as they shot behind-thescenes Instagram stories and interviews with their friends who were competing.

“The best part was it was just commentating your friends,” Dimity says. “Because I know all the girls and the guys and we get along so well, it was really easy and natural.

Especially when you’re in the water on the Jet Ski, everything looks so much better when you’re out in the lineup watching the guys do massive airs, or the girls getting barrelled. It was so much fun.”

Her fun, go-getting attitude will serve Dimity well when she dives back into the highly pressurised world of competitive surfing at Huntington Beach in September. This time she might also need a sprinkle of the tactical patience we saw during the July swell at Kirra.

But if that barrel was anything to go by – the WSL women better stay on their toes. DJ Shimmy is about to bring the music.

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OP E N D O O R A CANDID CONVERSATION WITH SHAUN TOMSON ABOUT HIS ‘FREE RIDE’ GLORY DAYS, HITTING ROCK BOTTOM AND HIS SUBSEQUENT REINVENTION AS A WRITER, BUSINESSMAN AND MOTIVATIONAL SPEAKER. Written by Luke Kennedy

In his halcyon days Shaun Tomson was frequently cast as pro-surfing’s ultimate pin-up figure. Raised in an affluent, South African-Jewish family, Shaun was Hollywood handsome, well-educated, and an unrivalled master of the tube. While fiercely competitive, Shaun was never afraid to venture into the metaphysical when it came to discussing the mysteries of hollow waves. In an early Tracks interview he once stated, “I remember certain tubes where I was so in control of my mind and body, that it actually felt as if I were controlling the wave itself.”

bicep in San Francisco, Ernie travelled to Hawaii to recuperate. Staying at The Royal Hawaiian Hotel, he befriended Duke Kahanamoku and his posse, which included the Duke’s five brothers. As a four-time Olympian and two-time gold medallist in the 100m freestyle, Duke was a hero to Ernie, who soon developed a real affection for the Kahanamokus and their Hawaiian playground. Once Shaun proved to be a prodigious wave-rider, Ernie, having missed out on the opportunity to pursue his own sporting dreams, was eager to ensure his son had every opportunity to follow his own.

Long before Kelly Slater zig-zagged his way through a line of glamorous partners, Shaun was also surfing’s quintessential sex symbol.

A classic photo from the Tracks archive shows him at a Bondi contest in the 80s clutching a topless twin sister under each arm. Five minutes earlier he’d been chatting to Bob Hawke, then Prime Minister of Australia.

These were different times and if you ask photographer Tony Nolan, the girls just wanted to meet the fabulously good-looking Shaun Tomson and why bother putting bikini tops on for a photo when they weren’t wearing any at the beach to begin with. Well, what was a guy like Shaun supposed to do?

Say no to the request for a photo?

When Shaun turned 14 and celebrated his bar mitzvah, Ernie decided the best present for his son was a trip to Hawaii. By the time Shaun got home, the Hawaiian hook was firmly set, and he returned several times throughout his adolescent years. When Shaun famously claimed the Hang Ten Contest at Sunset in 1975, he was a 20-year-old on University holidays. At the end of the same year Shaun won the Pipeline Masters, rewriting the approach for natural-footers at Pipe in the process. By 1977 he was the world champion and the eloquent spokesperson for a nascent professional sport that needed all the attention it could get.

However, for all the polychromatic evidence to suggest that Shaun has led a charmed existence, in many ways his life has been framed by drama and tragedy. Shaun’s childhood was shaped by the shark attack his father, Ernie, suffered at Durban beach in early 1946, nine year’s before Shaun was born. Prior to the attack Ernie (also an air force tail-gunner in WW11) had been a champion swimmer with high hopes of qualifying for the 1948 London Olympics.

After receiving surgery to his badly mangled

After watching his cousin Michael launch Gotcha in 1978, Shaun created his own brand, Instinct, in 1979 while continuing to compete on the circuit. In the flamboyant 80s Instinct leant heavily on catchy buzzphrases and colour-saturated images that painted surfing as the coolest subculture on the planet. E.G. ‘Surfing is Life … the rest is details’ and ‘Waiting for waves is O.K. Most people spend their lives waiting for nothing.”

However, drama again followed when Shaun sponsored fellow competitors Tom Carroll

and Barton Lynch on the Tour. In 1985, Carroll narrowly defeated a reinvigorated Shaun in the World Title race. Shortly after claiming the title, Carroll blindsided Shaun, his major sponsor with Instinct, by announcing that he would be boycotting the South African leg of the tour because of the government’s apartheid system.

By the early 90s Instinct had fizzled and Shaun slipped off the surfing radar, then in 2006, he was back in the media after news emerged that his teenage son, Mathew, had tragically passed away while taking part in a schoolboy game which involved precarious tomfoolery with a school tie. The incident floored Tomson and his family, and by his own admission, it was surfing that saved him. He has since rebuilt his life by hurling himself into a host of creative endeavours. In 2008 he produced the successful documentary ‘Bustin’ Down the Door’ which revisited the heady days of prosurfing on Hawaii’s North Shore in the mid70s. Tomson published a book with the same title as the movie and has written several others since, including ‘The Surfer’s Code’ and ‘The Code’, both of them self-help titles, inspired

by Tomson’s own life experiences. Tomson also turned ‘The Code’ into a motivational speaking platform aimed at providing a framework for leading a meaningful and purposeful life. Then, just a couple of months ago he relaunched Instinct alongside Australian partner, Cameron Williams.

Tracks recently caught up with Tomson for a long, intercontinental conversation.

While ever the erudite statesman, 65-yearold Tomson was in a mood to talk freely about the oscillations of his eventful life. The stories came bursting forth like a Backdoor foam ball. A distillation of that conversation appears on the following pages.

A young Shaun Tomson swings his beat-up ride onto the North Shore’s Kam highway. In the 70s and 80s it was a rite of passage for travelling surfers to buy a bomb in Honolulu and then ditch it at the end of the winter. Photo: Merkel

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Main: Deep bottom turns on curvier equipment granted Shaun access to Pipe’s hollower realms. Photo: Wilkings • Bottom right: Laying it over at Sunset.

Bottom left: Shaun with cousin Michael (right) at the 1977 World Cup in Hawaii. Shaun won the event and subsequently the World Title. Photo: Merkel Top left: Ernie Tomson watches on intently as Shaun competes. Photo: Merkel • Top Right: Full-rail blitz in the famous yellow vest. Photo: Merkel

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OPEN DOOR

You first went to Hawaii when you were 14 in 1969, and there is a story about you witnessing the fabled wave that Greg Noll rode at Makaha that was for so long considered the biggest wave ever ridden.

So, we’d all been out there in the morning. It was just like Randy Rarick, Keith Paul from Australia, Rolf Aurness, George Downing – all these legends and here’s little me, I’m 14 and out there with all the big boys freaking out. I mean, I just paddled out there because I wanted to have a go. And then it just kept getting bigger and bigger. I nearly drowned – I got a couple and then got drilled. And then later that day, I was with Albe Falzon and Baddy Treloar and my dad had rented an apartment, right above the break. That’s where we were staying at Makaha right on the beach. So we had the vantage point of the wave. And my dad took a movie of it and Albe actually got the wave on camera, but over the years the story has sort of shifted around…but it was a beast of a wave, and you know what happens at Makaha as the wave moves down the line and it goes into this section – they call it The Bowl – where the wave increases in size. So the whole wave gets massively bigger. And Greg just fired across that towards the Bowl and the whole Pacific Ocean just unfolded on him and it just like destroyed him.

You went via Australia on that same trip.

On the way to Hawaii my dad goes, ‘Okay, we’re going to fly a different way. We’re going to fly east. So we land in Sydney.

We’d ordered boards from my hero, Midget Farrelly. So my dad had done a business deal with Midget to make Midget’s surfboards, under license. And at the same time, he started what became the longest running pro contest in the world, which was the Gunston 500. It’s now called the Ballito Pro. So my dad started that with a couple of friends in 1969 and they brought Midget out to compete.

So Midget comes out, and he had sent the templates of the boards of his models to my father. My father had bought into this surfboard factory called Weapon that was going bankrupt and was the biggest surfboard manufacturer in the town. And the shaper didn’t understand the templates. They call them half templates. So, you’ve got half of the board on one side of the template – the front – and then you’ve got the rear or tail

on the other side of the template. We didn’t understand them. So we we were riding these boards with a gun nose and a short board tail… They were so futuristic, and they were so advanced, and Midget took one look at these boards and freaked out – like these guys are riding these aberrations, but we loved them. We thought they were the thing!

Anyway, so now we want to get the real boards for Hawaii. So we go over to Sydney for a week to pick up a gun and pick up one of these little Double Enders that all the Aussie guys were riding in the late 60s… Bob Evans met us at the airport. I’ll never forget he picked us up in an Australian car called The Monaro, which was some kind of hottedup beast. We had met Bob and Albe and the gorgeous Tanya Binning because they came and stayed with us in South Africa in 1969.

So my first surf ever in Australia was at North Avalon. So, you know, for me there has been a love affair with Hawaii and Australia for my whole life. I would say I love those countries and I love the culture.

You went back to Hawaii several times in your teens but where did you really start to push your tube riding at home? Was it Cave Rock?

No, I think it was The Bay of Plenty… The Bay of Plenty was like the heaviest tube in the world – I think – at the time… It was long, it was technical, and it was unpredictable.

And we didn’t have leashes in those days. So I developed the turnout. So when the wave closes out, you could turn out inside the tube.

That hadn’t been done before . So it (the Bay of Plenty) would break far out, and the water was always brown. And it was scary, you know, I was always terrified of sharks and that manoeuvre was designed so I could still be deep inside and then kick out and escape.

In Feb’ 1975 you were 20 years old and won the Hang Ten Pro at Sunset, defeating Jeff Hakman in the final. You won $5000 and a motorbike. You were actually a student on University holidays at the time. Then you rang your parents and said you were deferring Uni to head to Australia to surf and compete. How did that go down?

You know, my mum and dad were always full-on stoked. They always gave me a lot of personal self-responsibility.

And they, I mean, my dad was super stoked with my competitive success. And I loved to win for my mom as well, but especially for my dad, because it was like with the Olympics, you know, his dream never came true because of the injuries from the shark attack…

We had a lot of fun together, but they were always very trusting of me, because, you know, in those days surfing was a minefield, and there was a lot of guys doing bad dope.

A lot of heroin, a lot of guys doing a lot of drugs. So it could have could have gone badly. And you know, like Jeff Hakman he was one of my heroes. And I didn’t even know that Jeff was involved – he certainly had issues as did a lot of guys on the North Shore.

What happened to the motorbike?

I used to go to university on the motorbike.

But one day I was showing off and had the front wheel up and fell off the back and cut my chin, and that was the end of the motorbike (laughs loudly).

It seems like education was always a priority for you or something you were encouraged to pursue when growing up.

I think that comes from my Jewish background. You know, Jews believe in education, that you want to get ahead, get educated. You want to succeed as an athlete, be dedicated, but be dedicated to education as well. So education was a big thing for me and for a couple of years I was on the Tour, and at university. And then it all got too much, when the whole pro tour

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OPEN DOOR

Top: Under the lip hook at Pipe on the fabled board that became known as the Pink Banana. Photo: Trout • Bottom: With his trademark forward stance and guiding front arm, Tomson took tube riding to another place. Photo: Merkel

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thing happened in 1977, I went, I’m taking another year off university. And I took that year off and it took me 13 years to go back to university. My first degree took me 13 years (loud chuckles).

After you won the Hang Ten in 1975 you deferred University and went to Australia to compete. What was that experience like and was there a sense that things were starting to happen with surfing as a sport and as an industry?

I went to Australia and competed in 1975.

I became very friendly with Phil Byrne in Hawaii. I loved Phil like a brother. I landed in Melbourne airport, and I was picked up by this amazing Aussie guy John Pawson. He was a legend down in Bells Beach. Actually, we lost him a few years back, he got killed on the button at Winky. I stayed with him, and I just had the greatest time. That’s one of the best trips I’ve ever had to Australia. Meeting Aussies, understanding the lifestyle and getting connected with the culture and the heritage… You know the whole surf industry was just starting to happen. Quiksilver was starting to bubble up and Rip Curl was starting to bubble up and everyone was friendly, and it was vigorous competition. It was really good. And I remember I came up against Michael Peterson for the first time.

At Bells Beach, of course, he was the God. And I remember it was like nine rounds and I won eight rounds, and I went there’s no way I can be beaten now and somehow Michael Peterson went past me. He thought I’d beaten him. When they had the prize giving, they announced, “And in second place, Shaun Tomson,” and I was like. ‘Ah the bastard has beaten me’. And no one could find Peterson; he thinks he’s been beaten so he hasn’t turned up and that was my first experience of Peterson, and you know what an amazing surfer and a paddler. I used to study the guys’ paddling styles. I thought I was the fastest paddler on the Tour, and then I watched him, and then I copied his paddling style because that dude was a machine. And you know, we had some other battles over the years and then unfortunately he retired in ’77. He retired too young. I mean, he had his own demons.

You arrived early on the North Shore in the winter of 75/76. That’s the year you really started to push it at Off the Wall and Backdoor.

I had this unbelievable board that Spider Murphy had made me, it was a complete fluke; it eventually became known as the ‘Pink Banana’. But it had a huge amount of rocker. I’d asked Spider to copy a big Brewer

board because Brewer was like the legend. He shaped all Hakman’s boards and he was the king at Sunset.

It was supposed to be for Sunset but when he was shaping he couldn’t get enough curve in the board. So he put some bricks on the nose and it bent it and it came out like this banana and it was supposed to be red and ended up pink.

Anyway, I took it out at Sunset, and it was a dog. I spun out on my first wave and a guy ran me over and then I rode it at Pipeline and for some reason it just fitted perfectly into the face, and you know I rode that board eventually for five winters and I never lost it on take-off once.

So that board gave me so much confidence.

At Pipe, as long as you can get to the bottom you know, you’re usually going to be okay.

You get to the bottom, and you pull up into the tube but when you go over the falls and when you lose it on take-off that’s when you’re going to really get hurt. I understood that so I used to go really hard at Pipeline, a few of us went really, really hard because we wanted to be known. It was also very cool to suddenly be just some young dude off the beach at Durban and now you’re up against like Rory Russell, Barry Kanaiaupuni, Jeff Hakman Reno Abellira – like these guys were Gods.

That season 75/76 you won the Pipe Masters – which was a major coup as a natural footer.

It was a whole different way of surfing there.

I mean, no one had ever come hard of the bottom and a hard off the top, that whole

backside tube-riding thing. There was never a technique before… I suppose it was a moment of of change and Rabbit and I were in it together. We were going hard. My cousin Michael was fantastic out there as well. So we were all going really hard and taking big chances. And then I had the board. So I had an advantage that those guys didn’t have. It’s funny, you know, I spoke to Simon Anderson last year. I love Simon Anderson too. He’s just one of the greatest people ever in surfing.

And you know – what a design revolution he created. But he said to me, you know, Shaun, there’s only been one board in my whole life that I’ve wanted from another shaper. And that was that pink banana… I mean, Simon to me is one of the greatest backside surfers of all time. So it is wonderful to hear him say that you know. That board gave me the technological edge.

I guess there were two competitions running simultaneously, there was the official competition but that was the Free Ride period and every session on the North Shore was like a full-blown competition. And I guess you were really competing just for bragging rights?

You wanted the word on the North Shore, like, ‘he’s the hottest dude. He’s the hottest surfer out there’. And that was what we were all gunning for… So there was a purity there. And it was like the competitions were important, but the performance was the most important. And when I say the performance, how you performed in power outside of the competition, you know, because everyone understood that in competition it was get the wave, someone’s going to win. It’s not always the best guy that’s going to win. But like, the day-to-day performance, everyone wanted to be the best guy… You know today it’s different in that I think people are in widely different countries and different locations. But then everyone came to the North Shore, and it all happened on the little seven-mile stretch and there was only one beach a day where it was the best. And that’s where everyone gathered. We wouldn’t surf the B spots, or the C spots because in those days, it wasn’t that crowded. So we’d all be together going hard at Inside Sunset, Pipe, Haleiwa, Laniakea, Off the Wall, Backdoor you know.

And then there were the Hawaiians too who were amazing. Like Dane Kealoha was one of the greatest of all time and Michael Ho. It was cool. It was a really beautiful time.

The story has been told before, but what is your version of events for the famous drop-in by Mark Richards that features in ‘Free Ride’?

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Shaun makes a vertical plunge at Pipe and dials in a jagged-tooth, fluoro spray for added dramatic effect. Photo: Cassimus

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The straight up version was this, MR and I never ever dropped in on each other. We had absolute respect. MR was a gentleman in the water, so we didn’t drop in. But this one day it was like the day of the days in the end of the ’77 season. I’d won the World Title on my single fin Spider Murphy and MR had just introduced his twin fin and had ridden it maybe a few times out at Off the Wall and was exploding on his twin.

It was like the best day of the winter, and it was like an intense scene.

There were cameras lining the beach and it was like, full-on and this is like the ‘World Performance Title’.

And you know, we were all going head-to-head; Rabbit, me, MR, and I think Dane was out there and it was on.

And I took off on this wave and MR drops in on me (not the famous wave yet). And I’m like ‘What! What’s MR doing dropping in on me? There’s no way that’s going unpunished.’ Because, you know, it was at a level of intensity. I mean, normally, I suppose I’d go he probably didn’t see me, but you know, we were all like intense and cranked up to like seven and a half thousand revs.

So I go back out and immediately he takes a drop and I drop in on him and MR tells me that he didn’t know that he’d dropped in on me. He just sees me dropping in and now he’s aggro… I used to take off at Off the Wall right on the edge of the reef. I had my spot and guys would like paddle around me and sit inside me and I didn’t care. There was a channel there so you could be one-foot out and you wouldn’t get the wave it would just go dead. Anyway, I’m paddling like super cool and this double-up comes twisting in from the northwest and as I’m paddling into it I see MR paddling towards me furiously. And I know the games are going to be on here.

And as I take off, he takes off and he tries to stuff me. If you see the movie, you can see he tries to fade me back into the pit, so I had to fade with him. So, as MR does his bottom turn, I crank my turn and I managed to get up and take a highline on the wave. And I’m right behind him in the tube and the tub

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starts to throw and I’m just thinking of those two fins. If something happens I’m going to get those two fins right in the head. And then I’m thinking it’s Mark Richards man, this dude never falls off. You know, Mark Richards would never ever fall off. It was so seldom you’d see him fall. In fact, I saw him a couple years ago, and we’re talking about surfing Waimea. And the first time I surfed Waimea, I had like one of the worst wipeouts of my whole life. I said, “Hey, Mark how many times did you wipeout at Waimea? And he’s won contests there. He surfed there for the first time when he was 17. And he said, “No I never wiped out there, not once ever.”

So, back to the Freeride wave, I’m pretty confident and we blast through the tube together. And then as we come out, he thinks he’s left me on the turn. So I gave him a little hoot. And he looks back at me and that was it.

So that was actually wave number three in the exchange?

Yeah, in actual fact, I still owe MR one, but I’m not going to take it (loud laughter). MR, he went on to win four World Titles, so he can talk a little bit of stick on that wave. Yeah (more loud laughter).

The story of PT being handed a phony trophy from the cabinet of the Waikiki outrigger Canoe Club for his World Title in 1976 is well documented. Did it feel a little more formal/official by the time you won in 1977?

In ’77, there was a proper ceremony, but it wasn’t run by the IPS. It was this company running a parallel tour called Beach Comber Bill’s. So they had like pro-surfing’s first black tie event. And they gave me a beautiful trophy, so surfing had somewhat improved by 1977. Not much, but a bit… But I had great expectations after 1977, but they were never realised. I became a little bit disillusioned, not with my love for surfing, but like where pro-surfing was going to go, you know, I thought I’d be getting these big endorsements and contracts. And, you know, making all this money but surfing was small time.

You created Instinct in 1979. However, in a 1977 Tracks interview you said you couldn’t divide your energies if you want to do well with surfing? But ultimately you had to do that when you went into business?

You know, I think back to it, and I mean, I’m sponsoring Tom Carroll and competing against him. And I’ve just opened the store on Wilshire Boulevard. You know, it was like,

I should have just gone ‘pullback’ and should have, would have, could have? And you’re right. I did divide my energy too much.

And my competitive results, I think, would have been better if I didn’t have so many other distractions. But what if I’d done it any differently? I don’t know. I think perhaps having these other distractions, or not distractions, but having these other interests and other motivations, might have kept me stoked longer than I would have been stoked.

Yeah. So there was always this challenge, you know what I mean? I love to be challenged.

Yeah, starting a company was a big challenge, but I’m glad at the way it ultimately worked out.

Yeah, it’s sometimes overlooked that you actually finished second to Tom in 84/85.

I remember I lead the whole year until it ended in Australia. I remember Tom and I had a heat at The Stubbies, and I had a three/ two decision go against me, and he had a three two go for him. In those days it was called a three two decision (three judges to two). And then ultimately, he won the World Title at Bells Beach. Tom’s a great surfer and a great guy and a great individual and I admire Tom a lot, but it was a tough loss for me.

That was an interesting time because you were sponsoring Tom and then after he won the Title over you, he came out and said, “I’m not going to South Africa,” at a function at the Surfing Hall of Fame in Torquay. And that was a complex issue. You were passionate about South Africa, and you didn’t necessarily want to see surfing politicised. At the same event you made a speech and asked rhetorically if surfing should also boycott the USA because of their intervention in South America or Great Britain on account of their role in Northern Ireland.

It was a very, very complicated issue. But ultimately, I think it comes down to you know, is sport to inspire, uplift and unify, or should sport be used to divide? And I totally respected Tom Carroll’s decision at the time, and Tom and I have spoken about it. You know, he never picked up the phone and said, ‘Hey, Shaun, this is what I’m going to do’. So I was completely blindsided. So, I’m bummed out now I’ve lost the title. And then I get this. And at the time, I felt it was a personal betrayal. But over the years, I’ve come to realise that, you know, Tom felt really strongly about it and as did I, I knew the South African situation was dire, but was a sports boycott going to hasten the end of apartheid?

OPEN DOOR More than forty years later it’s probably still surfing’s most famous drop-in. MR and Shaun making ‘Freeride’ history.

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OPEN DOOR

Top: Halcyon days on the North Shore in the late 70s. Shaun on the beach with Peter Townend, Steve Jones, Mark Richards, and Mark Warren. Bottom: Shaun loads up the bottom turn as he prepares to make the speed run at The Bay of Plenty.

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I read this amazing interview with Nelson Mandela, later in my career after I retired, which was a beautiful statement. Anyway, I’ll paraphrase the words.

‘The sporting boycotts didn’t help end apartheid. But they did show us that people cared’. And I cried when I read that man, it was a beautiful statement. And yes, I cared about South Africans, and I cared about ending apartheid, but just perhaps our ways of doing it – Tom’s way and my way – were a little bit different.

And I’ve always respected Tom. His decision was a courageous decision, as was Martin Potter’s a courageous decision not to come, as was Cheyne Horan’s decision to come to South Africa and have ‘Free Nelson Mandela’ on his surfboard. So all three of those guys showed moral courage.

You were always very close to your cousin, Michael. So he was surfing shoulder-to-shoulder with you for a while. But then he diverged and went off and started Gotcha. So you were surfing and he was pursuing business. You’re a competitive guy. Was there a part of you that felt challenged by his success in business as well?

A lot. Full on. Michael and I were gnarly competitors. Like when we were growing up, he would spend every single weekend at our house. My father would pick me up from school and my brother, and then pick up Michael from his school, and then we’d go surfing in the afternoons if the surf was good, and Michael and I would always try to catch more waves than each other. We’d always try to beat each other in competitions, but we were, very, very respectful and I never dropped in on Michael once in my entire life. He never dropped in on me. So, we had the competition in the water and business wise, he was a genius man, Michael was most probably one of the cleverest people I’ve ever met in my entire life. And he started

Gotcha the year before I started Instinct, so like I’m ‘Michael’s started Gotcha, I’m full on out there and I’m going to start a brand’.

Michael certainly had a big, big influence on me and then Gotcha and Instinct were duking it out, and it was it was cool, you know what I mean? For a time there we had the number two and three brands in the core market. I mean Quik’ was always number one and then Gotcha number two, then Instinct number three. In certain countries I think Instinct was bigger than Gotcha. It was cool to have that competition. That’s why I think competition is amazing for young people…

You know, there is this vein of thought that you have one river of soul, and you have one river of competition? Let me tell you, they are absolutely intermingled. And if you don’t intermingle them, I think that both suffer.

So what about someone like Mikey February who has obviously abandoned official competition, but I would say he’s still competitive. Like he’s got to keep up with the other freesurfers and he’s got to better himself.

I like the fact that that a young guy can exercise his sort of artistic tendencies…

Many years ago, I read this interview with Terry Fitzgerald, who is most probably one of the greatest surfing thinkers of all time.

And I read it when I was about maybe 15 years old. And he said, ‘Do your own thing, man.’ That was his quote. ‘Do your own thing, man.’ So, I think that the very best guys are not derivative. The very best guys are inspirational and creative. The very best guys it’s art, not artefacts. The very best guys take risks and bust down the door.

What about surfing in the Olympics?

I think one of the greatest moments I’ve ever seen in the Olympics – and I was watching as a sports fan as well as a surfer – was seeing Italo Ferreira take that first wave in the final and carve across that section, do one huge snap, come off the bottom and go for a section that could have killed him, that could have been an absolute career ender.

Both legs could have been busted. And he could have crawled out of the water. But he went for that at 1000 miles an hour with absolute commitment. I was screaming when I saw him land and he went right through that surfboard. I didn’t see him for about 10 seconds, I thought the guy was dead. I didn’t see him. And then he comes to the surface.

He runs up the beach, runs back out there, and I knew that this guy was unstoppable.

Because he had that raw commitment and to me that exemplified surfing in the context of the Olympics – faster, higher, stronger…

So, on another competitive vein, you’re jumping back in the ring with business and relaunching Instinct. How does that feel in a modern context?

You know, I’m really excited about it.

Cameron Williams in Australia is really driving the bus. And we want to do something small, something soulful, something authentic, something heritage, it’s not, you know, we’re not going to be storming the Bastille. But we want to make some cool gear for people that might have become a little bit disenchanted with the corporatisation of the surfing brand experience. Get back to the roots, man get back to like, dropping into the barrel. And that’s why I called it Instinct, because you know, the best moments in surfing you’re on the foamball and the board feels like a snake and you’re losing the tail and putting the tail back in and your mind is clear and you are just operating on instinct, it had a very pure start. And hopefully we can maintain that purity through the clothing range and the brand identity and hopefully create a little tribe like we used to have.

How do you feel about the modern surf industry and the role of social media etc? It’s a different landscape to the one in which you started the company.

I do think it’s a different place and there’s a lot more points of connectivity, there’s a lot more content out there. I think in some ways, it’s a lot harder to get your brand message out there, because there’s so much going on. But I do think people respond to authenticity. I do believe that they respond to a pure heritage. And I think they respond to a cool product, and I think we’re going to have all three of them. And along with that, over the last sort of 20 years, since I lost my son, or since my wife and I lost our son, I’ve really, really devoted my life to inspiring people through surfing, and helping people activate the code to help them find a new path. And I think that I can tie that personal mission into what we try to do with Instinct as well. And I want the brand to be emblematic of that outreach that I’ve been doing. Because you know, when you have like a big loss, like I’ve had, and many parents around the world have lost a child, and it’s terrible. And through COVID, many people have lost people that they’ve loved. I found that helping others helps you. It helps you deal with your loss or your suffering, or your tragedy. So I think this connectivity to purpose. I think people will see that there’s a purity that is there. It’s not just profit, sales, and growth. Profit, sales, and growth are very, very, very important. But it’s also about purpose, too. It’s got to be about profit, sales,

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Shaun goes into crouching tiger mode to absorb the power of a heavy, Hawaiian drop. Photo: Merkel

OPEN DOOR

Top left: Who doesn’t like ice cream? Bottom left: Stand-tall passage through a luminous Pipe chamber.

Right: A Spider Murphy recreation featuring Shaun’s Instinct logo. Photo: Tostee

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swami, this amazing woman. But I tell you this because on the day I lost my son I was in the United States, I was flying down to Obviously, when your son passed in 2006 South Africa the following week, I phoned my wife and he picked up the phone and he it was an extremely difficult time. What said, “Daddy, dadda, listen to this.” He wrote role did surfing play in your life then? these words, and they just really stuck out to me. They were just the most beautiful words I’ll tell you what happened. What happened about tube riding. And if you look at ‘Bustin’ with me, okay, so my wife and I, we lost our beautiful boy. And he was at a private school, Down the Door’, right at the end, there’s an essay with those words. my old private school, Clifton school in Durban, South Africa. And it was a formal And then two hours later, I got the terrible all boys school and the boys all wore collars news that he played this game, and we’d lost and ties. And he played a game with the our son. So he’d written this essay about school tie called the choking game. And surfing about tube riding. And these words, that’s what killed him. And we didn’t know whether this was peer pressure because we’d ‘the light shines ahead’. And then we have this like lightning bolt that hits the hospital. heard the game was going around at the And it was like that lightning bolt was in school. We’ll never really know but it was an some ways, it was like a sign perhaps from absolutely devastating moment.

God, that, you know, we’re connected with Mathew and Mathew’s spirit is alive. And it So, for about a month everything just came was really the first moment when, for me, I to a stop – the shock, the denial; it’s just a thought, well, maybe there’s a way forward terrible stage. for us. And then I had a friend of mine who kept phoning and saying, ‘hey Shaun, let’s My wife was in hospital, and I was in the hospital with her. I didn’t think my beautiful go surfing.’ I mean, I told him I don’t want to go surfing my stoke’s gone, but it was wife was going to make it. And a guy came my mate from school – we used to sit next to us while she was in hospital, and he to each other – Grant Taylor; great guy. He had also lost a son the year before and he kept phoning me and going Shaun let’s go walked into the room and he said, I have surfing, let’s go surfing. And then eventually a message for you from Mathew and one I went, okay, let’s go surfing. So Grant takes bolt of lightning hit that hospital, “Bang!” me to a place north of Durban. I’d never out of absolutely clear blue skies because been to the spot before. And we walked I looked out the window and there wasn’t even one cloud in the sky. It was a very stable down these long steps to the break. And it’s on the east coast like Sydney and the sun’s time of year. One bolt of lightning, and he rising through the water. said, “Mathew is okay. Mathew wants you to know it was an accident.” Now, he had been in touch with a faith-healer-guru, a growth, and purpose. It’s got to be about doing good and being good for business.

As we’re paddling out this amazing African Sun is boiling out through the ocean, and I paddle out and I’m crying, and the salt water is like washing over me like washing, washing my tears away, it was beautiful. And I paddle out towards the sun, and I sit down, and it was like I could feel, I could feel my son was with me.

And then a wave comes in and I swing around, and I catch my first wave. It’s probably the best feeling just to get a wave and just to stand up and just to experience that amazing sensation of seeing the world differently.

And then I kicked out and caught a few more waves and I paddle up to my friend and I say, ‘Grant what’s the name of this break?’

And he said, ‘It’s Sunrise’. How about that?

That was amazing. It was like surfing just took me back to where I had to be, and it was beautiful. You know surfing that’s what it is for all of us. It’s our home when we are

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OPEN DOOR

Left: Shaun’s snarling glare at the camera hints at the intensity that rumbles beneath the eloquent statesman.

Right: Latter-day Shaun with a timeless arc through the upper reaches of a wind-ripped J-Bay wall. Photo: Tostee

suffering and broken, and it helps us rebuild.

That’s what it does Surfing really helped me rebuild my life without a doubt.

It feels like your own recovery and the various creative projects you’ve worked on, helped inform the self-help program you designed to pass on to others through your lectures and your book The Code.

‘Bustin’ Down the Door’ was one of those projects. So, after I got back from South Africa and Jeremy Gosch (the film’s eventual; director), got in contact with me and we’d been discussing doing a series of documentaries on surfing about pivotal surfing moments. He said, “What about the

winter of 75/76?” I said, “Ok, we’ll call it Bustin’ Down the Door.” I picked up the phone to Rabbit. I said, “Rabbit, we want to do this documentary, I want to license the name”... And boom, I funded it for like the first six months and we went to Hawaii and shot 37 interviews. And then we went out again and raised every cent for the movie.

And that movie really helped me deal with my loss. And I found that if you’re suffering, get out there and do something good… I started to speak at more and more events, and I released a book called The Surfer’s Code… … One of the first leadership conferences I spoke at they said it’s a big crowd and we want you to open. So I asked, “Well who are

the other speakers?” He said, “Well, you’re gonna open and then we’ve got Richard Branson, and then we’ve got Malcolm Gladwell and it’s in front of 3000 people. I went, “Whew”! But it’s like surfing teaches you to charge, to paddle over the edge.

You know, like, one of the greatest phrases I heard in Australia in 1975 when I was hanging with the Aussies was ‘Have a go!’ …

It’s so simple, but I think it’s emblematic of the Aussie spirit and it’s emblematic, I think, of my spirit now. I like to have a go. Okay, maybe you’re not going to cut it, you’re going to get dusted, you’re going to get smacked, but you can have a go and then to use an analogy from The Surfer’s Code, you can paddle back out.

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WHETHER HE’S ROAMING INDO ON STRIKE MISSIONS, CREATING A WEB SERIES, LAUNCHING A NEW BAR, OR OPERATING A COVID CHARITY, TAI ‘BUDDHA’ GRAHAM IS CONSTANTLY MAKING THINGS HAPPEN. Written by Luke Kennedy

Tai ‘Buddha’ Graham’s nonchalant stance belies the raw power of this notorious, Indo tunnel machine. Photo: Lawrence

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Main: Apocalypse snarls as Tai seeks a tiptoe entry point. Photo: Cromwell • Bottom right: Downtime between ‘psycho barrels’. Photo: Lawrence • Bottom left: Mikala Jones drag-racing the lip on an Indo fast-track. Photo: Cromwell • Top left: Chef Jones on the portable BBQ. Photo: Lawrence • Top right: Buddah-pose in the barrel. Photo: Cromwell

“An idea that is developed and put into action is more important than an idea that exists only as an idea.” — Buddha

In an isolated corner of Indonesia Tai Graham and Mikala Jones are the only two surfers occupying the lineup. The eerie ambience is a conspiracy between the hum of the Indo jungle, the lingering scent of diesel fumes and the muscular, eight to 10-foot swells tripling up on the reef ominously known as Apocalypse.

Adrenaline courses through their veins while their minds oscillate in that narrow range between exhilaration and pure fear.

Alongside photographers Nate Lawrence and Luke Cromwell, the duo has travelled non-stop from Bali for a full day to rendezvous with the swell. Aside from the lensmen and the couple of crew on the antiquated vessel that ferried them here, there is not another soul in sight. The nearest hospital is 10 hours away.

While Apocalypse is an endorphin-popping, full-throttle drag race with the tube, some might call it a glorified closeout. The reef is also notoriously unforgiving. When a set wraps into the bay and hunts towards the lineup there is nowhere to hide. “You see it

coming around the corner and it goes black,” explains Tai. “When it’s just you and your mate and there’s no one else around and it’s your turn. And then it’s eight-foot in front of you and 12-foot down the line and lined up for 50 metres, it just looks like the biggest closeout in the whole world… As soon as that wave comes, your heart’s just pounding … I haven’t been that scared in a long time.”

plans. “Everywhere on the island was closed for like six weeks to two months,” recalls Tai by phone from Bali. “And when I say everything I mean everything. You were only allowed to go outside of your house to go the supermarket. All the businesses were closed. All the restaurants were closed. All the beaches were closed, and we had military patrolling beaches.”

For more than a decade, Tai Graham’s life has been a delicate dance between his Bali business empire, his young family, and the omnipresent pull of perfect waves in the Indonesian archipelago. The challenge of weaving all the various threads together was of course made more challenging by the pandemic. When COVID hit Bali, Tai, who still gets paid to surf, was at the helm of several, successful Bali venues, including Single Fin at Uluwatu and The Lawn in Canggu.

As the tourist economy crashed overnight there was a genuine fear that the island would descend into crime and chaos when people ran out of money and became desperate. Tai points out that it was ultimately the Balinese village or ‘Banja’ social structure that played an integral role in preserving order. “I think the village protocol and the way Bali takes care of itself with its own village security and whatnot, it really created a sense of comfort for everybody because they started blocking off village by village. So at eight o’clock at night, you couldn’t even get into Canggu. They’d block all the roads and all the access points and have the guards everywhere. And the only way you could get in, is if you lived there and proved you live there.”

Flip back to late February 2020 and things were looking dandy for Tai. He’d just hosted the wedding of wildly successful surfer turned DJ, Paul Fisher, aka ‘The Fish’ and backed it up a week later with a show at Canggu, featuring ‘The Fish’ as the frontline act. Down on the beach Joel Parkinson, and MMA titan, Luke Rockhold, joined a crowd of 3000 revellers who had come to watch Fish ‘Losin’ It’ to borrow the title of his popular track.

Tai was on a high after the concert. It was the biggest event he’d ever pulled off and he was scheduled to raise the stakes even further by running a music festival in April, on a plot of land just outside of Canggu. Tash Sultana, ASAP Rocky and Dope Lemon had all been tentatively booked to play.

He also had three new venues on the cusp of opening, the kitchen supplies had been ordered and the staff lined up. Things were on a roll for the former Gold Coast lifeguard who has reinvented himself as an Indo-based entrepreneur and freesurfer.

However, by early March COVID had begun its irrepressible spread and harsh lockdown orders were issued for all Bali. Tai was forced to rapidly cancel the hyped music event and hit the pause-button on his other business

No one in the world could forecast the extent of the impact the virus would have, but on an island like Bali, which is so heavily dependent upon tourism, the tendency for business operators is to assume that regular trade will resume as soon as possible – because so much is riding on that eventuality.

Fortunately, Tai had been saving funds for a series of new projects and was able to fall back on his cash reserves to stay afloat. In a position of relative prosperity, he joined other business owners and community leaders, in launching initiatives designed to help ensure that no one went hungry as the supply of tourist dollars evaporated. “We weren’t allowed to open, and we weren’t allowed to operate, but many of us had big kitchen spaces. So it was like, ‘let’s help out the community’. It was beautiful to see that come together…”

Tai put his entire staff on a cooking roster to prepare free pick-up hampers on Fridays.

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The illusion of perfection at Apocalypse quickly becomes an exercise in jail-breaking from the barrel. Photos: Lawrence

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Top: Buddha shows off his battle scars as a mischievous Kelly rubs salt into the wounds.

Bottom: Kelly making a winged descent on one of his mysterious boards. Photos: Margarita Salyak

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“People knew us for our Fridays in Canggu.

We’d made so much money on the Fridays… so we were like let’s turn Fridays into the day for feeding people. We did that for a couple of months and sometimes we would be feeding seven or eight hundred people a day.”

Despite his best efforts, Tai admits he had to make some hard calls. Supporting over 750 staff equates to a hefty monthly payroll, and in Bali there was no Jobkeeper to prop your business up. However, instead of letting staff go completely, Tai explains he introduced a rotational system that meant everyone still had some work. “We kept everyone on, but instead of everyone working, you know, 25 days in the month, they worked, you know, eight to 10 days in the month.”

Midway through 2020 there was a whiff of hope when restrictions were relaxed and travellers from the USA and Europe were welcomed back. As a medium-scale operator without the massive overheads of the bigger venues, Tai’s Lawn Bar in Canggu was the first to reopen. There was a brief honeymoon period where the trickle of tourists arriving on the island would all congregate at The Lawn.

A different kind of traveller had started landing in Bali during that window. The pandemic had accelerated the remoteworking movement and suddenly people from around the world realised they could base themselves on a tropical island in Indonesia. “We saw a lot of people from the UK and America, and we saw a lot of digital nomads,” recalls Tai. “You know, why live in Ohio when I can live in Bali? And why live in Bristol when I can live in Bali?”

While the social landscape of the island may have changed during COVID, Tai feels that, even in the absence of the Aussie regulars, one familiar tribe maintained its lasting relationship with Bali. “I think throughout the whole process of everything, the heart and soul of the people who were coming in – and I saw this back in 2002 (after the first bombing) and 2008 (the GFC) – is the surfer, the surfer kept the heartbeat of the island alive.”

While surfers, locals, expats, and digital nomads alike all initially flocked to The Lawn, with Christmas and New Years’ approaching, the bigger venues opened their doors; hopeful they’d seen the worst of the pandemic. Pretty soon the trickle of travellers was spread too thinly amongst the various bars and restaurants, and Tai found himself struggling to maintain a reasonable

turnover. It was time to go surfing. “It just got to a point where I was like, ‘You know what, we’re just gonna exhaust ourselves here’. Kelly was in town, and I was like, ‘Kelly I’ve got a wave I want to take you to’.”

off the boat. And he was sitting there. And I was just like, why is this guy always so slow?

Well, he would sit there and study the waves and go, ‘I’m going to use these fins and these boards’.

Tai’s intimate knowledge of the Indo archipelago, his command of the language, his extensive network of Indo connections, and his knack for identifying the best zone to hit in any given swell all ensures that his counsel is often sought by the pro-surfers who regularly drift through Bali.

And he’d just always be on… And so I was like, okay, that’s the secret to keeping it interesting. You’ve got to find the fun in it.

He’s finding the fun in new equipment and in new lines and in different conditions.”

For Tai (39) hanging with Kelly, who is on the cusp of 50, was an opportunity to witness firsthand where Slater sources his fountain of surfing youth. “He’ll stay out there for six or seven hours straight,” explains Tai, sounding more than a little in awe of Kelly’s endurance.

“And I was just like, ‘Man, don’t you start to get bored or tired?’ and he was like, ‘Nah’…

You know, I was asking him, ‘Do you do much training?’ And he’s like, ‘Nah’. So I said in order for you to surf longer, you just surf longer? He’s like, ‘Yep’. I was hanging out with him for a few weeks … He would just kind of surf and surf and surf. But the dude ate so well, and he slept really well.”

While Kelly wasn’t preoccupied with crosstraining, Tai noticed he was very particular about his equipment. “The exciting part about hanging out with him is he never rocked up to a wave with his fins in his board, knowing what board he was going to ride before he got there. I swear to God we got to this one wave and it’s just absolutely firing – some wild tubes coming through.

I just rattled my shit together and was the first one off the boat. He was the last one

Reinvigorated by his time with Kelly and increasingly aware that he was wellpositioned to take advantage of a unique chapter in Indonesian surfing history, Tai ordered a quiver of 12 new boards and finalised the work that needed to be done on his 30-foot ex-military speed boat.

Early in 2021, Bali again closed its borders, and any aspirations of an early economic recovery were dashed. “I think that was the biggest blow – January, February this year – because everyone had their hopes on everything coming back to life. And then it was sort of like we’re in for another long haul… I’d managed to survive the last year and I was like, I need to keep the stoke alive.

Every single swell, ‘boom!’ Let’s go surfing.”

The boat stayed dry on Tai’s next major mission, instead he schlepped it alongside Mikala Jones to Apocalypse. The trip was an energy-sapping triathlon involving a plane flight, PCR tests (COVID tests), a solid drive and a final leg on a ‘feral’ fishing boat. They arrived to find the bay at Apocalypse devoid of any other human presence.

At first, after the tumultuous events of the preceding months and the inherent demands of his business operations, the sense of isolation came as a relief. “It was just nice to switch off. There’s so much chaos going on everywhere. And you know, you just stop watching the news…there’s no phone signal and we brought all our own food and cooked. It was back to the roots of an old surf trip.”

However, while they momentarily relished the serenity, there was that thing they had come to do – surf. As the name implies Apocalypse is no stroll down Poppy’s Lane.

In a best-case scenario you make a doggydoor exit from a roaring eight-foot funnel that hunts you down like some kind of gaping tube monster. Clean exits are very rare and in a worst-case situation you get eaten by the foamball, speared into dry reef and then rag-dolled over the sharp bits by the five waves stacked behind the one you wiped-out on. But, if you do make one, the

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Top left: Buddha’s philosophy – Peace, love, and barrels. Top right: Volcanic reminders on the archipelago. Bottom right: 62-year-old Jim Banks adopting the crouch-trim-stance that has propelled him through thousands of Indo’ barrels.

Bottom Left: Banksy taking a wide-brim perspective aboard Tai’s boat. Photos: Cromwell

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intensity is almost unrivalled in Indo and the sense of elation and relief is like a saltwater narcotic.

After two straight days of ‘psycho barrels’ and Russian roulette with the reef, Tai was a little down on himself for pulling back on a couple. “I was just like, ‘Fuck it, I’m not going in until I get a bomb and a giant one came. …That was one of the best ones I got.”

Shortly after that ride, the duo decided to quit while they were ahead. “We’re sitting out there and we’re like, is that us? And we looked at each other. And we’re like, well, we don’t have any scratches, and no one’s got any broken bones. Let’s go back to the boat and drink a beer.”

The success of the Apocalypse trip reaffirmed Tai’s desire to chase waves during the COVID window and he and Mikala made a pact to be in the right part of Indo for every new swell. Being a sponsored freesurfer hinges on your ability to produce engaging content and together they hatched a plan to document their upcoming adventures. They dubbed the project ‘The Journeymen’ and decided that it would be more fun and watchable if they invited people along for the ride and looped in a little talking story with the action.

The first trip under the new Journeyman guise was to Desert Point with veteran Indo’ wanderer, Jim Banks. Banksy still runs his surfboard company out of Bali and his own business interests range from making customised guitar amps to running a café on the Bukit Peninsula.

When they arrived at Deserts, Tai was a little surprised by the crowd. “Believe it or not, there was like 40 or 50 guys out and I was like, holy shit. This feels like normal times.

A lot of Brazilians had flown in because they could get in there and a lot of Americans. All

the guys who maybe were like a little hesitant about coming before and getting waves out there… A lot of lower-level surfers were out there because normally they wouldn’t get a wave.”

coach would have eaten into his barrel time, so he figured the best way to talk about success in a holistic sense was to start a podcast where he chatted with people he found interesting and inspiring.

However, Tai felt reassured he’d made the right call when he watched 63-yearold Banksy shake aside the young hustlers paddling up his inside and drop into a Deserts screamer. “Jim just pulls-in, does a cheater five and gets spat out,” recalls Tai with a proud chuckle.

His first guest was an acclaimed Indonesian jeweller called Hedi Rusdian who used his obsession with skulls and metal music to become the guy who designs rings and belt buckles for big acts like Metallica and Panthera. As Tai explains enthusiastically Hedi made an interesting career pivot when he teamed up with a blacksmith named Gianjar Saribanon to create a lifestyle brand and series called the Barbecue Mountain boys. “He’s created this huge tribe of youth culture that are now going camping and fishing and hiking. It’s this craze going through in Indonesia at the moment.”

Even in Indo during COVID, a certain level of discretion is required to score quality waves without crowds. The whisper of another wave is enough to inspire followers, or trigger group chats to other parties with boats. Disenchanted with the Deserts crowd, the trio quietly snuck away early the next morning without revealing their intended destination. A three-hour ride in Tai’s boat later and they were dropping anchor at a world-class left in Sumbawa with no one around, save Bruno Santos whom Tai had given the heads up to. “It was just me, Mikala, and Bruno trading barrels and us watching a 63-year-old Jim charge on a couple of bombs,” explains Tai. Later Banksy regaled them with stories of his pioneering days in Indo and Tai and Mikala recorded the chat on video to use in the first episode of ‘The Journeyman’.

After the success of the first mission, Mikala and Tai kept the momentum going.

As they’d predicted it was simply a case of collaborating with the regular stream of pro-surfers who rolled through Bali. Pretty soon they were producing episodes featuring Mason Ho and Kai Lenny. Tai indicates Mason’s Ho’s court-jester antics and 20-second barrel at Deserts were highlights, while watching Kai Lenny show up with all his toys and toss back-flips was also trippy.

‘The Journeyman’ series, featuring Tai and Mikala as hosts, is scheduled to drop online in the coming weeks. Meanwhile, the business hiatus gave Tai or ‘Buddha’, as he is affectionately known to many, time to consider other enterprises.

When you can thread deep Indo barrels alongside the world’s best, be a family guy with kids, and operate a suite of popular venues, along with a homeware company and a couple of festivals, people get curious about the alchemy that pulls it all together. Tai found that he was consistently being contacted by people from various backgrounds to provide them with business and lifestyle advice. Being a full-time life-

A criticism often made of successful expat operators around the world is that they don’t promote or offer positions of responsibility to local staff or artists. Tai is quick to point out that supporting home-grown talent has always been part of his creed. “I want to really push the local scene as much as I can. Like when I opened my first bar here in 2006, there was no such thing as an Indonesian DJ, they weren’t around. Now the coolest young DJs in Indonesia are Indonesians. There’s a group called PNNY and they did a party for me and we pulled 2000 people. You know, so they have a huge following. They’re at the forefront of the music scene. Then there are these young, Indonesian designers and architects; you’ve got all these young creatives that are really striving. And I really think that this Corona episode has given them a chance to sort of grow into their own shoes and give them some confidence without having too much Western influence.”

More recently a head chef role came up within his company and Tai ultimately found himself recruiting from close quarters. “I was interviewing all these expats that had all these accolades and had worked with Michelin star restaurants and as top dog executive chefs and I just couldn’t find any passion amongst these guys. So I ended up taking a gamble on these two young Indonesian kids. They’d worked in big restaurants too, but they had this hunger and this drive, and they really want to put Indonesia on the map.”

When it comes to promoting people on his new media platform or providing opportunities through his business network, Tai ultimately claims he doesn’t really care who it is or where they’re from.

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Opposite: Tai, exploring the inner-most limits of a funneling right in an isolated corner of Indonesia.

Above: The laughing Buddha. Photos: Cromwell

“At the end of the day, my mission is to help people, you know, build a life that they love. And I don’t care if they’re white, black, yellow, orange, or, you know whatever, it doesn’t matter to me, as long as I feel like that person’s chasing their dream and living to their potential.”

While intent on helping others live their best lives, Tai certainly hasn’t put a handbrake on his own portfolio. He’s just launched another bar and coffee shop under his ‘Times’ banner and is several schooners deep into discussions to start a beer label. “That’ll be awesome. I’ll be the first expat here to have a beer company potentially.” He also runs the Uluwatu Single Fin classic and the Canggu Surf and Music festival. Like many of those who have survived the wrath of COVID, he sees plenty of opportunity on the other side and

he mentions half a dozen other projects at staccato speed.

However, Tai emphasises he wants to ensure surf culture is a theme that is synonymous with all his enterprises. He also sees an authentic take on surfing as something that distinguishes him from many of the other Bali entrepreneurs. “I forgot how many world-class surf photographer friends I have.

So I’ve just been collecting a batch of all different photography and surf art, or art done by surfers, and I’m just weaving that through everything.”

endeavours are limitless. What drives him to try and pull it all off? Perhaps the answer lies in his last comment before our conversation ends. “I hate this stigma around surfers as broke ass bums, it annoys me. So that’s why I want to go well, ‘I’m a surfer. I came from nothing. Look at what I can do, so you can do it too’… Let’s break this stigma around broke surfie bums. We’re actually doing some of the coolest shit in the world.”

Next February Tai will celebrate his 40th birthday. He’s hoping the virus is crossed off the invite list by then so he can throw a ‘mean’ party. After getting a few tips from Kelly he still has many barrels ahead of him and it would seem his entrepreneurial

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RY CRAIKE VS. THE CYCLONE THE NIGHT TROPICAL CYCLONE SEROJA STRUCK THE NW WA TOWN OF KALBARRI. WRITTEN BY BRAD STERLING • PHOTOGRAPHY BY RUSSELL ORD

A s the sun began to set over the I ndian O cean o n t he e vening o f the 1 1th of April 2021, a nd an eerie calm gave way to r apidly s trengthening w inds, p rofessional freesurfer, Ry C raike, w as h unkering d own i n a bedroom in the f amily h ome. W ith h is p artner, a t wo-year-old, a nd a brandn ew baby in tow, it’s hard to i magine the fear he must have f elt as debris from a nearby h ouse b egan t o c rash i nto t he r oof a bove t hem. J ust a s t hey d ecided t o r elocate t o a nearby hallway a large c hunk o f f our-by-two c rashed t hrough t he r oof a bove t hem, s pearing t hrough t he c eiling a nd into t he room t hey had b een i n j ust m oments b efore.

Ry Craike dips a shoulder and buries a rail on a day when the winds were kinder to Kalbarri. Photo: Ord

& MIKE RILEY

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RY CRAIKE VS. THE CYCLONE

Above: The distinctive tones of land, sea, and sky in Western Australia. Opposite top: Jake’s Point flexes and dares the jostling pack to paddle deeper. Opposite bottom: Ry Craike still rules the point at Jakes with his frontside fin waft and deep tube rides. Photos: Ord

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen”, he said. “The power of the thing was just unbelievable”.

When Tropical Low U22 formed off the south coast of Timor Island on the 3rd of April, few could have predicted the unorthodox path it would take or the trail of destruction it would leave behind in its wake. As it passed north of the Indonesian island of Rote (home of the now famous long lefthander affectionately known as T-Land) its destructive potential intensified. The Joint Typhoon Warning Centre (JTWC) issued their first warning at 2pm on April 4th and by 8pm declared it a Category One tropical cyclone, giving it the name Seroja (the Indonesian word for lotus).

The prolific rainfall, and subsequent flooding and landslides that the rather innocuously named storm brought to the region caused widespread destruction

and resulted in the deaths of at least 229 people in East Timor and Southern Indonesia. And to make matters worse, Seroja wasn’t done yet. Over the next few days, the storm continued to move in a westsouthwest direction, its strength intensifying to a Category Two cyclone with sustained wind strengths of 105 km/h.

On April 6th, due to dry air and southeasterly windshear, Seroja began to unexpectedly weaken back to a Category One tropical cyclone but on April 8th it began to interact with Tropical Cyclone Odette just to its northwest.

For residents of WA’s Mid West coast, this is where things, quite literally, took a turn for the worse. In a phenomenon known as the Fujiwhara effect, Seroja weakened even further, but on April 10th it had absorbed Odette’s thunderstorms into its structure, strengthened back to a Category Two tropical cyclone

and changed course completely, accelerating to the southeast and bee-lining for the Western Australian coastline.

This unusual series of events set Seroja on a collision course with a section of the WA coast located significantly further south than the usual cyclone interaction zone (generally considered to terminate at the town of Carnarvon roughly 400 km further north).

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RY CRAIKE VS. THE CYCLONE

This page: Kalbarri wearing the scars of the Fujiwhara effect where two cyclones double up and wreak havoc.Opposite: Ry Craike surveying the damage.

Photos: Ord & Riley

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As a result, when Seroja intensified to a Category Three severe tropical cyclone and made landfall at around 8pm on the 11th of April slightly south of the coastal town of Kalbarri, bringing with it hurricane-force wind gusts around 170 km/h, the locals simply were not prepared.

almost from the start, winning a Quiksilver Air Show at Cottesloe Beach in Perth at the ripe old age of just 16. With Quiksilver onboard as a sponsor, the WQS life just wasn’t appealing to Craike, so he made the very conscious decision to pursue a career in freesurfing.

“Kalbarri is not one bit set up for a cyclone like that” says Craike, now 36.

This choice opened all sorts of doors for Craike who found himself on boat trips to the Mentawai Islands onboard the old True North with Captain Martin Daley at the helm joined by the likes of Kelly Slater, Dane Reynolds, Julian Wilson, and Clay Marzo. “I feel so lucky. It was insane times. The world was such a different place then”.

Kalbarri is an idyllic small coastal town located at the mouth of the Murchison River in WA’s Mid West region. Primarily a tourism and lobster fishing town (known as crayfish to the locals), Kalbarri just happens to be home to one of WA’s finest left-hand pointbreaks, albeit one that is fiercely protected by the locals making it a notoriously difficult place to get a wave.

The son of a shark and abalone fisherman, Ry Craike moved to the town when he was just two years old and has enjoyed a life spent in the ocean ever since. Following in his father’s footsteps and jumping on a surfboard at a young age, Craike stood out as a prodigious talent

These days Craike works for his dad who made a shift from abalone a few years ago after a particularly bad season, and now fishes for cockles up around the Shark Bay area, a few hours north of Kalbarri. He continues to film freesurfing clips for his sponsors as well as focusing on raising his young family.

It could be said that Craike embodies something of a surfer’s dream life and Kalbarri seems the perfect backdrop for such an

idyllic existence. But on April 11th Seroja came to town with only destruction on her mind.

When Craike emerged from his home after the maelstrom had past, the source of the rogue piece of four-by-two was suddenly revealed.

“The house just over just got torn to pieces and all just ended up on top of us. We were one of the lucky ones.”

There’s houses just completely destroyed all over town”. As he drove through town the full extent of the damage became apparent. “Powerlines and debris everywhere. People’s rooves fallen down. All the beaches were unrecognisable. Huge sand dunes just washed away. The destruction was unbelievable. It was an absolute miracle that nobody (in Kalbarri) got injured or died”.

RY CRAIKE VS. THE CYCLONE This Page: These days Craikey spends much of his time fishing commercially for cockles with his dad. Opposite top: The bottom car park all but gone at Jake’s after the storm. Opposite bottom: Craikey wrapped in an Indian Ocean jewel. Photos: Ord

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RY CRAIKE VS. THE CYCLONE

Ry Craike, a force of nature in his own right. Photo: Ord

Estimates suggest that up to 70 per cent of the buildings in the town were damaged and there are fears that some Kalbarri residents could remain homeless for up to two years as the town wrestles with a statewide shortage in available trades and building supplies.

Before Seroja started her dance of death in the Indian Ocean, building projects all over WA were already experiencing significant delays, in part due to pandemic-related global supply chain shortages and partly due to increased demand for builders fueled by the overwhelming response to the state government’s building stimulus initiative. As Kalbarri counts the cost, Craike considers himself fortunate despite the hole that is still present in his roof more than three months after the event, a fact that becomes difficult to ignore every time it rains. And, as if to add insult to injury, WA happens to be experiencing one of the wettest winters in decades.

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The impact to the economy of the town is undeniable. With insurance companies refusing to come to the party and commercial fishing boats left in tatters, not to mention the damage to Kalbarri’s tourist hotels, it is obvious that the impact of Seroja is going to reverberate for some time to come.

Before Seroja, tourism in the town was booming. “It’s COVID”, says Craike. “Everyone who used to go to Bali or overseas can’t do it anymore. They’re all coming here.

It’s at least 10 times busier than I’ve ever seen it in my life.

The whole carpark’s completely jam packed (but) we haven’t got the infrastructure for all these people here at the moment. Half the accommodation is completely gone. All the ones on the foreshore, there’s nothing left of them”.

Craike witnessed first-hand the impact to Kalbarri’s fleet of commercial vessels as well.

“The moorings up the (Murchison) River are the best spot to be in something like (Cyclone Seroja) because you can rise and fall with the tides and the water rose about 15 feet”, he says. “They (the state government) made the cray fishermen get rid of the moorings up the river”, says Craike. “You can only stay in the pens. All the big expensive cray boats that were in the pens, the insurance company said they are not liable for any damage in the pens because they’re not cyclone rated”.

You can only imagine that the hardest hit residents of Kalbarri must feel extremely let down.

This cyclone was a freak weather event, and their town simply wasn’t prepared for a storm like Seroja. Sadly, insurance companies can exploit this lack of preparedness leaving some residents not only homeless, but jobless as well.

For Craike the impact has been less dramatic. For his family, life continues as normally as can be expected with a hole above your head. But one thing is for sure, the night of April 11th, 2021, is one that will not be soon forgotten.

For the people of Kalbarri, their idyllic existence has been briefly interrupted. Some will suffer more than others and no doubt the town, and towns just like it around the world, will have to change as the earth’s climate changes and regions that haven’t historically had to deal with extreme events like Seroja suddenly find themselves in the firing line. In the search for a silver lining, one might hope that, at the very least, the increase in severe weather events that we’ve seen in 2021 might have blessed the region with some memorable surf. “Na, it’s been crap”, says Craike, still managing a laugh.

aloha.com.au

TRAVELLER

SURFERS LOVE TO ROAM, BUT HOW DO WE HELP PRESERVE THE CULTURES WE ENCOUNTER ALONG THE WAY? Written by Morgan Bernard

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TOURIST ?

Remembering a time when you followed the finger and hoped to find paradise in Central America.

Photo: Craig Peterson

Travel is dying. Not as an industry – although COVID certainly didn’t do it any favours – but as a concept. While it’s never been easier to set off halfway across the world (lockdowns excluded), it’s becoming increasingly challenging to experience a destination’s culture.

Instead, travellers are force-fed curated versions of a culture that’s a mere shell of its Indigenous self.

Similarly, surf travel has changed exponentially in the last decade. Its seemingly permanent association with wellness travel has created a boom where demand outweighs supply, and the currency is natural resources.

Carefully crafted marketing campaigns hide cookie-cutter travel experiences behind a veil of catchy slogans and marketing jargon that promise, ‘one of a kind’, ‘bespoke’, or ‘artisan’ experiences. In reality, what’s being sold are duplications of our own cultures plastered over coastal communities in developing countries. For Australia, the Indonesian Archipelago provides a convenient gateway to unapparelled adventure amongst some of the best waves on the planet. For Americans, Central America offers access to the abundant power of the Pacific scattered along various black sand beaches, lengthy point breaks, and reef passes. The Indonesian Archipelago and the nations that comprise Central America are considered developing countries and have seen a sharp spike in surf tourism in recent years. Tracing the growth of surf tourism in each area reveals a boom-andbust cycle that overpowers even the bestintentioned sustainable development models.

Can COVID’s non-consensual travel pause grant us the opportunity to change how we approach surf travel?

When I landed in Costa Rica in early June, for a moment, it seemed like the pandemic had vanished. Other than the masks on our

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faces, the Liberia airport was its usual self.

The squeak of croc-shoe-adorned, fishingshirt-clad Floridians followed me as I crept towards immigration. I had been here before, nearly every year for the last half-decade to guide trips, but not to surf. While I’ve enjoyed my share of Costa Rican waves, I tend to look elsewhere in Central America due to Costa Rica’s immense popularity. This time around, I’d hoped the pandemic paranoia might have thinned the crowds. Having wrapped up a lengthy jaunt around the uncrowded beaches of Northern Nicaragua, I was eager to test the waters of Costa Rica in what I assumed would be a similarly uncrowded pandemic wonderland.

Like Indo, Costa Rica began receiving an influx of tourists in the late 20th century.

Travellers, many of whom were surfers, sought out Indo and Costa Rica for their natural beauty, their relative isolation compared to more well-trekked destinations, and their waves. After the conclusion of the nation’s civil war and the completion of Bali’s international airport in 1968, Indonesian surf travel inched into the mainstay of surf culture in the 70s. Indonesia, specifically Bali, was an often-overlooked stop on the hippie trail where, for a few years, lucky visitors enjoyed the splendours of the Indian Ocean far removed from the tourist masses. Bali’s modern bohemian image can be traced back to the original travellers on the hippie trail.

While nomadic bohemians embraced the Island of the Gods, it was the naturalists and biologists who drew attention to Costa Rica’s mountainous jungles and tropical beaches, in the 60s. These scientists were enamored by the fact that a tiny speck on the globe that makes up 3% of the earth’s surface contains 5% of the world’s biodiversity.

Despite being worlds apart, the Costa Rican and Indonesian authorities made a similar realisation around the same time in the late 70s. They each concluded that tourism could be harmful and should be managed in a way that promotes local culture (Indo) and protects the country’s valuable natural resources (Costa Rica). Their concept of sustainability in tourism was far ahead of its time. Meanwhile, sustainable tourism development, as we know it, came to be in 2002, when the concept was introduced at the World Summit on Sustainable Development in Johannesburg. However, back in the 70s, Costa Rica had already created its national park system, which protects approximately 25% of the county’s landscape. Shortly after, in the early 80s, the government disbanded the army, which freed up funds for developing infrastructure, education, and social programs. Meanwhile, in Indonesia, President Suharto made the bold decision

to add 4,800 new hotel rooms to Bali, which raised alarm bells for local leaders. To protect the island’s unique culture, the Balinese began to push the idea of ‘cultural tourism’, which promoted temple visits, religious ceremonies, and traditional dance performances in lieu of umbrella drinks and poolside parties.

Although thousands of kilometres apart and buttressed by different oceans, in the wake of a tourism push, both Bali and Costa Rica both set out to preserve what they perceived to be of utmost value to their respective societies.

Leaving the strip mall hellscape, urban sprawl that is Liberia, Costa Rica, I made my way through the northern reaches of the country towards my destination, Nosara. As we approached the coast, I was pleasantly surprised by the density of the surrounding jungle and the fact that mountain peaks, and not towering resorts, met the horizon in the distance. I had been to Nosara years before when the main stretch of beach contained just a few hotels scattered through the wilderness, and the inland town was home to mainly agricultural workers. I had heard stories of a new wellness hub funded in part by a Johnson and Johnson heir in Nosara and rumors of multimillion-dollar land evaluations. Despite this development, Nosara was nothing like other coastal tourist hubs in Costa Rica, Jaco and Tamarindo. While it may have been done in a ‘sustainable’ manner, Nosara had experienced rapid growth. The area was now home to 30 hotels, 47 surf schools, dozens of restaurants, yoga studios, gyms, and juice bars. Nosara was a far cry from the remote beaches of Northern Nicaragua, where I had spent the past six weeks. Many see Nicaragua as what Costa Rica was 20 years ago. Due to a history of political instability, Nicaragua lacks the gravitational pull on travellers that its southern neighbour, Costa Rica, boasts.

As I drove by a yoga studio and juice bar, I wondered how long until the minute fishing villages of Nicaragua were populated by the latest health and wellness trends.

The second wave of tourism development in Costa Rica and Indonesia brought about growth at an unexpected rate. The 90s and 2000s marked the rise and fall of the once great surf towns of Jaco and Tamarindo, and the creation of Kuta as we know it today. In the 1990s, Bali saw an unprecedented level of resources dedicated to the island’s tourism industry. During this boom, Nirwana Bali Golf Club was constructed overlooking the temple Pura Tanah Lot. The construction forced local farmers off their land and turned religious ceremonies at Pura Tanah Lot into cultural peep shows for golfers, marking the shift from cultural tourism to mass tourism.

Telling fragments capture a sense of 70s wanderlust in Costa Rica and Central America. All photos Craig Peterson

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Top: Despite the quick-step of modernity, this Mentawai tribesman has preserved a traditional way of life. Photo: John Barton Bottom: A hollow bend in Costa Rica begs someone to paddle out. Photo: Grant Ellis

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Like Kuta in Bali, Jaco is the most readily accessible stretch of coastline from the capital and largest airport, and consequently it was a hub for early development. Jaco boomed and bustled far before my time. I was in diapers when the town transformed from a peaceful coastal getaway to a seedy party hub. Like so many surf destinations before it, and inevitably many after it, Jaco grew too quickly.

As is the common story of countless destinations around the world, the influx of foreign travellers and expatriates increased the costs of land and goods, pricing out many of the local inhabitants.

Stuck in stagnant service industry careers without the opportunity for upward mobility, many locals turned to drugs and sex work to capitalise on the booming tourism economy. Today, Jaco is looked upon in the surf industry as the kind of blown out scenario you wish to avoid.

While the rest of Costa Rica is celebrated for its pristine natural wonders, at the height of its popularity Jaco felt dirty, meanwhile its hills are littered with gaudy high-rise condominiums and hotels. Despite the obvious negative impacts of Jaco’s hasty growth, it seemed little was learned by the experience and the same forces conspired to send Tamarindo down a similar path about a decade later.

To further understand Tamarindo’s development, I reached out to Forrest Minchinton, the son of renowned board maker Mike Minchinton whose legendary

shapes carried Robert August atop many of the waves he rode in the ‘Endless Summer’ movies. Forrest spent his formative years growing up in Tamarindo and later would split time between Costa Rica and California.

Today, Forrest shapes boards and is the owner of House of Somos, a surf and shaping resort in Santa Teresa that prioritises fine surf crafts and motorcycle exploration. Growing up, Forrest witnessed Tamarindo transform from a small town, where, 15 years ago, he knew everyone by name, to a bustling tourist hub that very much followed the path of Jaco. After it featured in ‘Endless Summer II’, Tamarindo’s growth quickened, and soon it was a resort town. As was the case in Jaco, the construction of a marina near Tamarindo made the area a sports fishing and general tourism hub. After the construction of numerous resorts, surfers began looking elsewhere in Costa Rica for waves.

Other locations in Costa Rica, like Santa Teresa, and Nosara, have been developed under sustainable tourism guidelines that have prevented duplications of the swift growth that occurred in Jaco and Tamarindo.

Under these guidelines, eco-tourism is heavily promoted, and regulations prevent building on or near the beach. The results have been tremendous in terms of environmental protection and restoration. In fact, Costa Rica is a global leader in land protection, deforestation reversal, and conservation.

From an environmental perspective, Costa Rica’s sustainable tourism model has been hugely successful. Nearly all hotels in the country follow some type of sustainable guidelines, and according to the Global Ecotourism Network, “80% of the hotels in Costa Rica have 20 rooms or less.” Forrest was quick to point out that tourism has done wonders for the Costa Rican economy.

According to David Matarrita-Cascante of Texas A&M University, writing in the Review of Tourism Research, “Earnings from tourism between 1996 and 2006 grew around 9% annually. By the 21st century, tourism had become the second-largest foreign earning activity and represented 7% of the GDP in 2006.” Since the mid-70s, Costa Rica has seen nearly a 600% increase in tourism.

Regardless of what protections are in place, growth on that level is bound to disrupt local communities and economies. In Santa Teresa, Forrest and the House of Somos team work on micro solutions to address the shortcomings of sustainable tourism, like creating a water treatment facility to reduce waste runoff, promoting locally owned businesses, and increasing community incentives to participate in community betterment projects.

Like Tamarindo and Jaco, it didn’t take long for Bali to become a saturated surf destination. When the island no longer held the allure of uncrowded waves, surf travellers explored the Indonesian Archipelago further.

Java, Lombok, Sumba and Sumbawa all bore fruit before the Mentawai Islands off West Sumatra emerged as Indo’s promised land for surfers. As in Bali before it, the Mentawai Islands saw a sharp uptick in tourism after the discovery of quality surf. By this point in the early 2000s, the stakeholders involved in the region’s tourism industry sought to implement sustainable tourism development to avoid the usual trappings of overdevelopment. According to a doctoral study by the University of Auckland focusing on sustainable tourism in the Mentawai Islands, sustainable tourism development is based on, “The premise that the industry should develop in an environmentally, economically, and socially sustainable manner that will benefit local communities.” While the idea seems admirable and relatively straightforward, it’s often oversimplified and tends to have a narrow focus on environmental issues while failing to address the deeper issue of tourism’s harmful influence on communities and local culture.

With 23 million estimated global surfers, the surf tourism industry is worth over $8 billion USD. There’s no denying the benefits tourism can have for a community. To say that the influx of capital, job creation, and the introduction of surf lifestyle careers to coastal communities is life-changing would be a gross understatement. The majority of Mentawai people live in poverty. In 2002, Steve Barilotti, while reporting for The Surfer’s Journal, found that the average copra (dried coconut kernels, from which oil is obtained) harvester earned at most AU$30 a month. In 2008, SurfAid International found that child mortality rates were as high as 93 out of 1000 births, and 41.1% of children under five years of age were malnourished.

So, the introduction of surf tourism to the region should provide much-needed stimulus to the local economy. However, unlike Costa Rica, many Indigenous Mentawai communities have low education levels, which prevents them from fully participating in the tourism sector.

Due to the limited participation of local populations, their roles in the surf tourism industry are typically limited to the service industry, with little room for upward mobility without proper education. After surveying several businesses in Nosara, Costa Rica, I found that many of the managerial positions in the town were occupied by workers from the capital, San Jose, not the coast. Additionally, out of the over 30 hotel

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Top: Witch’s Rock in Costa Rica casting a glassy spell. Bottom: Alex Knost puts 10 over on a tapering wall, before a backdrop of rolling topography in Costa Rica.

Photos: Grant Ellis • Opposite: A hands-free Lee WIlson taunts the foamball at a popular locale in present-day Indo. Photo: Evgenii Ivkov

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A slice of life, and the evident economic divide, in a Costa Rican surf town. Photos: Bosko & Craig Peterson

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options in Nosara, not a single one is locally owned. The influx of foreign workers and the introduction of a new wealthy elite class of foreign employers may have created an illusion of economic stimulus, in reality, the system creates economic leakages where the money generated through tourism leaves the country in the pockets of foreign business owners and workers.

Not only does this style of development create a clear distinction between the foreign employer class and the local employee class, but it creates unintentional cultural whitewashing of the destination.

This class divide of Western expatriates and the local workforce is nothing new – it’s been prominent in developing countries since the height of colonialism.

Now instead of seeking refuge in old fashioned colonial clubs for nights of snooker and bottomless G&Ts, western expatriates stick to Bali beach clubs and health and wellness centres.

The fact that in many places in Bali and Costa Rica, it’s easier to find a chia seed infused smoothie bowl than a cheap local meal poses a serious threat to cultural preservation. Additionally, it leads to the gentrification of coastal areas and a rising cost of goods that out price locals earning service industry wages. The emergence of wellness travel that seems to always arrive in the wake of surf travel has resulted in

cultural transplantation in developing areas.

Some neighborhoods and retail spaces in Bali and Costa Rica now resemble locations in Australia and Southern California, overshadowing cultural roots in the process.

If left unchecked, travel and surf culture could completely supplant local culture and customs.

Reliance on foreign workers and backpacker surf instructors perpetuates the issue and creates a situation where blonde surf instructors from Florida, who are way too comfortable flirting with your girlfriend, take paying jobs from locals. As a writer who does a hefty amount of digital marketing for surf hotels, I have participated in a similar barter system. While my work is not directly removing local jobs from the economy, I fully understand the draw of trading work for the opportunity to surf and travel the world. The introduction of this expatriate social class can be disruptive to the existing social structures within a coastal community.

The lack of integration of expatriates tends to heighten already problematic issues of wage inequality in coastal communities.

As a destination increases in popularity, especially when done at a breakneck pace, the tourism industry shifts from supply-driven to demand-driven. Understanding this shift is paramount to tracking the failures of the current sustainable tourism model. MatarritaCascante states that, “[A] country’s emphasis during this current stage [of development] has shifted from providing tourists with an authentic local and natural experience to catering to particular needs and demands of tourists.” This occurrence is a direct result of a, “Complex set of dynamics in which natural resources and authentic experiences [are] juxtaposed with [the] aggressive promotion of foreign investment seeking infrastructure development and large-scale tourism enterprises.”

As I explored Northern Costa Rica and surfed every wave I could find, travelling by car, boat, and tuk-tuk to avoid the congestion at overly touristy beaches, I wondered if this was what was in store for Northern Nicaragua. Northern Nicaragua is an area I’ve become increasingly fond of as I travel more and appreciate its rare combination of quality surf and cultural authenticity. To find out what was being done to check the harmful effects of overdevelopment in Nicaragua, I phoned Jonathan Griffin, the owner of Thunderbomb Surf Camp. Our conversation touched on the surf entrepreneur’s dilemma, which is the difficulty of striking a balance between living out your greatest surf fantasy and, at the same time, preserving the sanctity of a place and its natural resources. The

only solution to the surf entrepreneur’s conundrum is to promote the local community as much as possible along the way. Jonathan does this by keeping 100% local staff and investing in his workers by providing English lessons and even helping fund their education, so that they may have upward mobility in their careers. Creating a class of local entrepreneurs and managerial level employees, and setting wages based on the local inflation rates, not the national minimum wage, is vital to ensuring the sustainable development of a surf destination.

In Northern Nicaragua, Jonathan has partnered with his local manager to open a hostel near the area’s famed beach break, thus making his manager, German, the youngest business owner in the area. So, what can a traveller do to promote sustainability and help preserve the coastal communities that make up our favourite surf destinations?

As a stakeholder in the tourism sector, the solution is complex and unclear at times, but as a consumer, the least you can do is support locally owned businesses and establishments with local staff, and look beyond a brand’s claims of sustainability, while considering how their presence impacts the community.

The wellness industry may have hijacked the sustainability message, but those working towards true sustainability are looking at the big picture to tackle environmental and social issues together. To understand how environmental sustainability can coexist with social responsibility, I turned to Luke Swainson and Jane Dunlop, who own and operate Mahi-Mahi Resort on the island of Simeulue and āluān, a sustainable coconut company that partners with over 1000 local coconut farmers. Unlike most surf resort founders, Luke and Jane began as environmentalists and founded a resort to execute and fund their environmental protection goals. Luke and Jane brought their vision for conservation to Simeulue after a project working on post-tsunami land rights issues in Ache lost funding during the 2008 financial crisis. What Luke and Jane found with their work in Simeulue was, “Standalone conservation without thinking about what communities [and] what government decision-makers want [is] not going to have the [desired] effect you’re after.” Unlike their previous project that focused on an entire province, they turned their attention to the flyspeck island of Simeulue. In doing so, Jane and Luke showcased the full potential of sustainable development and green job creation. Working towards their sustainability goals in Simeulue, they employ, partner with, and empower the local community and economy by creating jobs in commercial industries with existing markets including

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Opposite: Jungle-surrounds and roughly waxed single fins deliver an air of mystique to Costa Rican surf adventures in the early 70s. Photo: Craig Peterson • Above: A timeless Indonesian vista that could’ve been shot 50 years ago, but was in fact taken this decade. Photo: John Barton

surf tourism. Mahi-Mahi and āluān demonstrate that actively promoting an area’s social wellbeing helps facilitate largescale environmental success. According to Luke, “Unless you’re creating jobs and economic opportunism in those landscapes, you’re not going to have a positive environmental impact at the end of the day.”

The over-arching point being sustainability in hospitality should go beyond permaculture gardens and compost bins and address the community’s needs as well as those of the environment.

Sitting in the lineup in Playa Guiones, trading waves with a 100 of my closest

friends, I looked at the surrounding hills and the rocky points that jutted out to sea like lances driving through the breakwater in admiration. Costa Rica has had a remarkable level of success in preserving its natural wonders, and of all the surf destinations in the world, Costa Rica has perhaps been the most successful in its implementation of sustainable tourism development. But when compared to Bali, the Mentawai Islands, and other established surf destinations, one can’t help but draw parallels that highlight the inadequacies of the current sustainable tourism development model to fully address community issues. Surfers are the harbingers of mass tourism. Wherever we seem to

go, the masses eventually follow, and in their wake, both the harmful effects and benefits of tourism ensue. As the group that introduces these cultures to such a dynamic force, we have a social responsibility to help preserve a community’s culture and customs.

Protecting a destination’s ecology is critical to ensuring its survival and longevity. What is the value of a travel destination without the culture and people that make it worth visiting in the first place?

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THE PRE-DAWN AS HE PREPARES

TO RELEASE A COMPLETELY RE-MASTERED, 50TH

ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF

MORNING OF THE EARTH ALBE FALZON

REFLECTS ON A FEW MOMENTS FROM THE MAKING OF THE FILM.

Opposite: Baddy Treloar turned his back on the city and shaped a life he loved on the north coast of NSW.

More than half a century after he started filming Morning of the Earth, Albe Falzon still has a vivid recollection of the experience.

While the finished product will always be a timeless distillation of a journey that spanned several years and three, major locations – Australia, Bali and Hawaii – there are countless untold stories from the making of the film.

From being amongst the first Westerners to dwell in the fabled cave at Uluwatu, to the serendipity of the celebrated soundtrack, Albe takes us on a wander through the pre-dawn of Morning of the Earth.

Albe and Dave ‘Baddy’ Treloar: Two city kids who went bush. …When I look at that photo and I look at today’s world, it’s bizarre because everything gets so homogenised today, like everything is so clean, perfect, and packaged. You know, the glamour industry has taken over and everything’s so polished. And digital’s like that, it’s really polished. It’s actually a bit too polished for me. I kind of like a bit of the rawness and the roughness and the softness.

And that photo, I think, is like, to the extreme of what I just said, because it’s so out there. It’s kind of way beyond feral. But in today’s world, it’s appealing because you don’t see much of that. Because anytime you want to look out in today’s modern society, you’ve got the latest car, the latest camera, the latest this, the latest that – everything’s a bit too polished… I like the organic feel of publishing. And of holding the book, or magazine or whatever in my hand.

And that’s just something I’m totally attracted to. So, looking at that photo, my connection with that is amazing, because it takes me back to that period, which still exists a lot in my life now because I live in the country.

My connection with David was because of that pure organic aspect of his life. I mean he was raised pretty much in the city, like I was. I was born in Redfern and somehow we connected through surfing. And then he found himself

up in a rural setting. Firstly, in those beautiful, broken down buildings, that nobody wanted to rent for $5 a week and just go surf. And to me, I love the rawness of that. And I loved the rawness of David, because he was, like, really grounded and down to earth.

After growing up in Manly he ends up at Yamba and spends most of his life in the country… I mean I didn’t see a tree ‘til I was nine years old. I didn’t even know there was grass on the ground. I lived in the concrete jungle. So, me stepping out was like, ‘Whoa!’ and my grandfather connected me to that through a small plot of dirt. So, both Baddy and myself end up finding ourselves in this rural wide-open setting. And I don’t know what it was that attracted him. I think it was just the quality of the wave at Angourie, and the fishing, and the simplicity of the life. And I could relate, I identified with that. And we just tuned in both of us on that level. … We were kind of connected. That was what was important.

Simple Ben as the Soundtrack to Baddy’s Section in MOTE. … Actually, I didn’t hear Simple Ben until after the cut was done. Isn’t that amazing? I cut the film with David because of his connection to the rural lifestyle and the waves up there. And then the music was done with various groups.

And that track came in late – Simple Ben – And it was done by John Francis. It was a late night drop-in because they’d been recording in the studio. And apparently, he said, ‘well, let’s just do this song, let’s just do one take on it’, because they were all pretty stuffed from working on an album. And they did this one take on Simple Ben. And that was it. And when I heard the take, I just went, ‘perfect’.

Because the lyrics and the narrative of the song expressed so perfectly, David and his lifestyle.

It was serendipitous.

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Opposite: Two cultures come together in a magical cave at Uluwatu, half a century ago.

The Fishing Shack at Uluwatu.

I think the scenario was kind of written in our minds, that we wanted someone to come in and build some far-out little hut on the beach. Yeah. And that we could just find ourselves there. But in truth, it was built by the fishermen from the local village. It depended on the tide, but they’d often go down there and fish and hang out on the beach at night. And they built this little shack up against that cliff at that little beach around the left hand side of the cave. And we just happened onto it which was far-out because you can’t actually get there, as you know, at high tide because there’s so much surge around those rocks. But at low tide there’s a tunnel between Uluwatu and the beach on the left-hand side. And we walked through that and it opened up in this cute little beach, and then on the beach up against a cliff was the hut. We couldn’t have scripted that better. And we’d hang out there while we were surfing. We actually stayed down there a couple of nights on the full moon … it felt like it was built out of driftwood, and I just loved it.

You know, they were so inquisitive, because the Balinese are kind of into magic and mystery, I find. You know, underneath it, they’re really tapped into that. And I’ve always found that Bali was a very magical place, you know, and the cultural aspect of the Balinese it’s really representative of that in a way. And I just found that when we wandered in there that they hadn’t been exposed to too many Western people. And they were really inquisitive and open, because basically, they were fishermen.

You know, they had small crops, but they were fishermen, and that’s how they were connected to the ocean. And here we were wandering through their fields with surfboards, and it was kind of like, ‘What is this?’ So it was fascinating for them as much as it was for us, because it was a real connection through the ocean for both of us, two different cultures meeting. And it was pretty amazing. Because once they knew we were there, word spread really quickly… I don’t know about now, but then they were very playful. Plus, they’re very magical. And I think when they saw us there, and Steven and Rusty surfing for the first time, it was like, the film ‘The Gods Must be Crazy’ – when the Coke bottle fell out of the sky.

I think the language barrier was broken down because David (Elfick) had some mull and a chillum. Because with that there was no language needed… he just pulled out the mull.

I don’t know if he had any grass with him when he went through customs, but it was pretty low key then and there were no tourists… But that was a real breaking point for us. And that was our connection – pretty far-out.

The Cave.

We had no idea that it existed. We just walked along the edge of the cliff. But when the Balinese saw us, they actually then became our guides, and they showed us the way down into the cave. And it was like we were descending into this magical place because it had this aura about it, it was purely Balinese, I mean, I don’t know if any other Western people had been there, maybe some along the way, but to me, it was sort of powerful in that respect, it was purely Balinese magic in that cave. And for us, it was the first time there and quite possibly the first time for any Western people into that cave.

Because if you were walking along the cliff at that time, and you didn’t know it existed, you would never find it.

And the magic thing about it was, I mean, apart from the energy of being in that beautiful place, there was a resonance in there for sure.

You couldn’t see the ocean because it curved, but you could hear the water rushing in against a cliff and it had this sound; the water from the waves was rushing in... And it bounced off the walls, so there’s this amazing sound.

“I think the language barrier was broken down because David (Elfick) had some mull and a chillum.

Because with that there was no language needed… he just pulled out the mull.”

The Ladder.

It was a bit testing… Even though we were surfers, there was still a certain amount of agility required to go up and down that ladder; the Balinese just did it with no shoes, their toes wrapped around, it was effortless for them, but was kind of like ‘whoo’ a bit shaky here and there and a bit of a dance to get down too. But it was just, you know, just perfect. Unlike any ladder I’d ever seen and since then I haven’t been down another ladder like that. It was a perfect entrance to a beautiful place.

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Opposite: A delicate-limbed, 15-year-old Steve Cooney laying fresh Tracks in the Uluwatu lineup.

Steve Cooney on His First Session at Ulus.

The following story and brief interview was taken From Tracks November 1971 issue.

The simple, and honest account by a then 15-year-old Steve Cooney, illustrates what it was like for a surfer to happen upon a wave like Uluwatu.

By Steve Cooney As soon as you got there and unpacked your gear and sat down for a minute and looked around, you started to slow down. You’d kind of sit back and just be really pleased with yourself just doing nothing and it was really good.

It was just unbelievable. Nobody had surfed there before. You had to walk through all these places. The first time we went there, all the old locals showed us the way, it was really funny.

We arrived at this place, you know, we caught these little beamos out for three miles, no it was more than that, about six miles, and then we got off these little tracks and the guys were all stoked ‘coz we gave them money, you know, and everything like that – it was just incredible, and we had a coconut kid ... a guy who used to carry our coconuts ... But the only time we ever took him to carry our coconuts, he said he had to go back ‘coz he had to go to the temple before we reached the place, so we had to carry them ourselves. We got off the beamos and walked about two miles through these little tracks and things and you come to it, and you’re looking down about 150ft straight

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at the waves, you know. When we got there it was high tide and the waves were hitting up against the cliff and I thought – oh no, we’ve blown it, you know, because it’s not looking really good. So we went down through all this incredible bush, you know. If you touched the bush it kind of stuck to you – it’s kind of all prickly stuff, and we got to this track that kind of goes down a hole in the ground. It was all kind of rocky, you know that sharp barnacle rock. We climbed down this hole and into this really giant cave with sand on the bottom, and we went out and it wasn’t really good because it was really sloppy. So we just waited for a few hours till the tide went out and then the waves were about six or eight-foot and so hollow – incredible. We were just surfing with the turtles.

The locals used to come crowd around.

They’re like little children. They really just dig doing things in a fun way. When we were out surfing – because they’d never seen a surfboard before – when we caught a wave they’d all cheer and stand up on the hill. They’d all cheer until we finished our wave and when we pulled off they’d stop cheering and wait for someone else to catch a wave. It was just incredible.

After we’d been there awhile, they started to get on to selling things. They used to bring us sweet potatoes, melons, and things, and we used to have to give them bread for them.

Do you really like travelling?

Yeah. And I’d like to come back.

Do you think the adventure of surfing trips is the best thing about surfing?

No. I think that just surfing is the best thing about surfing. You know what I mean. Just riding the waves.

“When we were out surfing – because they’d never seen a surfboard before – when we caught a wave they’d all cheer and stand up on the hill. They’d all cheer until we finished our wave and when we pulled off they’d stop cheering and wait for someone else to catch a wave.”

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“I knew it (the footage) was somewhere but I’d given up. You know, I made a few inquiries over the years to try and find it. But I just gave up on it”

Main: Albe playing around with his beloved 16 mm Beaulieu camera rig. Below: Albe roof surfing while the camera rolls, on a trip to Victoria. Photo: Frank Pithers.

One Camera, Three Lenses.

It was a French camera. I traded my Hasselblad in for it. I wish I hadn’t but anyhow, I didn’t have any money at the time.

I traded it to get a Beaulieu 16 millimetre camera. It was so perfectly designed because it was really small. And you could hold it in a way that you became the tripod.

I’ve always liked the idea of the moving camera, rather than the steady camera. I’ve always felt that it was like an extension of your eye. And the beautiful thing about small cameras, especially in film cameras, is that you’ve got that freedom to just float. And that was always appealing…

I did a lot of the footage when we were just sort of travelling around, with a smaller lens

so I didn’t have to set anything up, I could just pick the camera up and press a button and off we went … Personally, I don’t like to be surrounded by a lot of people. So I like the intimacy of having a small camera. So I can go solo and sort of in and out.

I had a bigger lens (400mm) on it for shooting surfing and I had to use the tripod. I only had one camera. And I had three lenses for that camera. And that was it.

The Lost Archives.

post-production and in some instances editing… So, I gave up, then last year Jack Eden’s son, Adam, rang me up out of the blue and said said, ‘Call me back. I’ve got something you might be interested in’. I had no idea what it was. So, I called him back and said hello. I knew Jack a little bit, but I didn’t know his son, Adam. And when he was going through Jack’s estate after he passed away, Adam came across all that footage, and there was 90 minutes of Morning of the Earth footage and I nearly fell over when I heard that. I couldn’t believe it. (Some of this uncovered footage will feature in a new minifilm, which will be part of the re-release.)

Well, it was like I knew it (the footage) was somewhere but I’d given up. You know, I made a few inquiries over the years to try and find it. But I just gave up on it, I kind of thought it might have been with the Spectrum place in Sydney, because that’s where Bob Evans and Paul Witzig and myself did our

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Opposite: Gerry Lopez shows off his cat-like mastery at Pipe while Terry Fitzgerald (middle left) and a local deal with the Hawaiian power.

Strange Times in Hawaii.

And I never got to know him really well. But when I think about Pipeline, I never engaged with him on a personal level. I was just there on the beach and he just arrived. I think it was it was a day that I got up really early, and The first time I was over there in 1969, I was I went down the beach, and it was like, solid working on a film for Bob Evans. We were staying with the Tomsons (Shaun Tomson and eight feet Pipeline. There wasn’t a soul on the his dad Ernie) in Makaha, where the traditional beach. And there was no one in the water. And I was down there filming. And Jeff Divine went families surfed, and it was a great vibe. It was by and he got a shot of me. And I didn’t see it fantastic. We had great fun and great surf… until 20 years later. You’ll never see that again.

When I went back with Terry in the winter of But that day, I stayed there all day. And I 1970/71 to shoot for Morning of the Earth, remember looking at the waves thinking – this what had happened in that two years is that is my first time Pipeline – I’m never going to Woodstock the film had come out (the festival surf that wave. I was pretty fit at the time. And was in August 1969 and the film was released I just went it’s not going to happen. And then in 1970), and it was a lot of free love, there was a lot of drugs available. And you know, for gradually, people started to arrive. And Gerry did. And that was part of the day and I just me, that was like a new experience because I hung out there and filmed it. And it was like, hadn’t been exposed to any of that. I hadn’t just a moment in time happened and went, and been exposed to any drugs at any time. And then all of a sudden, we hook up with these two then I don’t know if I ever really connected with him after that. I mean, we’d see each other guys. They’re really cruisy guys and they’ve got a boat down at the harbour. Turns out they casually in passing but we never really engaged on any level. It was great because he was were smugglers… We go around to their place peaking at that time and he was, you know, the and they’ve got this stack of cocaine on the man who had probably ridden more Pipeline table that you couldn’t jump over… I didn’t even know what it was, it was like this big castle waves than anyone around that time. And I just happened to be there for that day, and got of cocaine. It was a foot and a half high, a big what we got. pyramid on the table. And there’s like about five of us in the room and I’m going ‘what the fuck’s that?... I’m not going near that’.

So, that’s like those guys we were hanging out with, and that sequence at the end of the film was on their veranda and they’re all just mulling on these big pipes. Yeah, so that was a different scene.

Because the first time over there was with the family, With the Tomson family and it was so kind of polite and astute, and wealthy and fun… And, you know, they cared for us like their children. And next time we go over there, we’re in the middle of this fucking drug cartel.

So it was pretty bizarre actually. We didn’t have any problems, but it was kind of weird to step into something like that.

Lucking Out with Lopez.

I didn’t know Lopez, I’m not sure if he came to Australia before we made the film or not, but he had friends in this country. And he’d slip in and out of the place very discreetly.

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“... it was like this big castle of cocaine. It was a foot and a half high, a big pyramid on the table. And there’s like about five of us in the room and I’m going ‘what the fuck’s that?... I’m not going near that’.”

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THE COLLABORATORS HOW TWO FILMMAKERS FROM CALIFORNIA HELPED REINVENT MORNING OF THE EARTH. Interview by Luke Kennedy

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Opposite: Michael Peterson – ‘The Cutback’.

Justin Misch and his collaborator Wyatt Daily were in Australia trying in vain to secure an interview with George Greenough. The duo were making a film called ‘Spoons’ about the evolution of surfing and wave-riding craft in Santa Barbara, California. Greenough’s eclectic journey as a shaper, cameraman, boatbuilder, inventor and spoon-rider had begun in Santa Barbara before he moved to Australia, and he was central to the film’s narrative.

However, when the notoriously reclusive Greenough decided not to participate, they reached out to Albe Falzon who had worked with Greenough on the making of ‘Crystal Voyager’. Albe’s footage of George helped make ‘Spoons’ a critically acclaimed success, but the encounter also set up Justin’s next major project – digitally remastering ‘Morning of the Earth’. The way Justin remembers it, they made the effort to fly out to Australia and hand deliver the reels that Albe had lent them. “We met at a coffee shop in Crescent Head and an hour later we were in the water. After our session we asked why ‘Morning of the Earth’ wasn’t available online for the modern viewer, and he (Albe) simply replied, ‘well mate, because you haven’t done the work yet!’”.

This time round Justin teamed up with Matt Wesson to give MOTE a meticulous touch up. “Three years and 150,000 photoshopped frames later and here we are. We’ve got a beautifully restored version of this amazing film, and it’s almost ready to be shared with the next generation,” says Justin proudly.

The kicker for Justin and Matt was uncovering a whole bunch of Albe’s lost reels from the making of MOTE. This meant they were able to cut an entirely new mini film with unseen footage, to complement the re-release of MOTE. Below Justin talks about cruising with Albe and why he thinks ‘Morning of the Earth’ will resonate with a whole new generation of viewers.

As two young Californians how did you first come across Morning of The Earth?

Pretty much everyone you talk to who’s seen ‘Morning of the Earth’ has an epic story of how they first saw it. Matt got his hands on a VHS copy while couch surfing in Currumbin for the second year of the Superbank. He played the tape on repeat for months. I was in film school researching underground films. When I got to morningoftheearth.net it felt like I was time travelling. I reached out to the admin to make sure the DVD would play in the states, and a few emails and a PayPal payment later, the order was placed. Not sure if it taking two months was because of customs or Albe surfing too much but the wait was well worth it!

Albe personally fulfilled every single DVD order on that website.

Do you think a new generation of young surfers can appreciate Morning of the Earth?

Absolutely. There’s some pretty epic fan mail. One person claimed that they saw ‘Morning of the Earth’, literally quit their job, walked out on the concrete jungle rat race, moved to a small town, and pursued what was important to them, in their life.

Just like that from one day to the next.

The film is really powerful like that. It makes you reflect on your life and what’s really important to you.

MOTE never gets preachy and there is no narration but there is a powerful message about the pursuit of a simpler life in harmony with nature. Is that more important than ever now?

If you look around you, it’s pretty obvious that a lot of us have forgotten to tread lightly. Most everyone can look outside their window and say, “Well, that tall building wasn’t there 10 years ago.” Or look at your own life and just realise that you’ve really accumulated a lot of things.

Living simply is good for the soul. It gives you clarity and freedom. And having a direct connection with nature and living in symbiosis with it, is an even higher level of life and consciousness. ‘Morning of the Earth’ is a great portal into that lifestyle and the great thing is that it leads by example. Take only what you need.

We could all use a little bit more of that mindset in our everyday life.

Has the renaissance of retro equipment and the Ride Everything movement helped make it more appealing to a modern audience? If you are going to ride single fins should you really see MOTE for inspiration?

If you’re riding single fins you’re already a Morning of the Earther! But yes, ‘Morning of the Earth’ is a must-watch for any surfer. It definitely teaches you a thing or two about style. Single fins, twin fins, no fins, thrusters, and everything in between – surfing is about feeling, progression and having fun so it’s whatever floats your boat. That’s what this film is all about, reaching the highest potential of yourself, living a connected life, and doing what you love – have fun.

And who doesn’t want to have fun?

Albe still speaks with so much conviction about his beliefs and his projects. Did you fall under his spell a little?

Albe has lived many lifetimes in one.

From the ocean to the peaks of the Himalayas. He also is the kind of person that fully embodies and lives what he preaches. He lives a simple life in the country, takes care of the animal and plant kingdoms surrounding him, tries to surf as much as possible, and is kind and generous with every human interaction.

Those are pretty admirable qualities. It’s hard not to try and pay that forward.

Any classic Albe moments?

When we got in the car and asked where we’re going, Albe said “heaven” and burst into laughter! Thirty minutes later we were surfing some of the best waves of our life.

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Below: Nat Young finding elegant synergy between shortboard trim and longboard footwork in a moment that delicately overlaps periods of surfing history.

What about the mini film? Was it a case of coming across so much untapped footage that you felt compelled to do something with it?

were labelled ‘MOTE OUTS’. Albe just about lost his top when he got that call. Adam shipped us the material, we spent four weeks manually restoring the negatives on the bench before having them ultrasonically cleaned. We scanned We’re still editing it, but it’s a full on 30-minute film. Every film has a shooting them in 4K with our wet-gate and also pretty much lost our tops when we saw ratio, which is the amount of film shot what was on-screen. Ninety minutes of to the amount of film that made the cut. never-before-seen outtakes from Bali, ‘Morning of the Earth’ is 80 minutes Australia, and Hawaii. Camera originals. long and Albe thinks he had about a 1:4 It would be an injustice to the world if we shooting ratio, meaning he shot about didn’t share that material. It’s also been six hours of footage. We already had our hands on the 16mm AB Rolls, the material extremely fulfilling for everyone involved, spiritually and emotionally, to be able to in the film, which was thankfully stored work on something so special and unique, with great care at the National Film and and to collaborate and push our creativity Sound Archive of Australia. So that was in a way where the sensei is allowing it to an hour and a half, but we just had this be a journey for us. That’s really special. feeling that whatever outtakes were out there, if they still were out there, would Is the mini film a self-contained be really legendary to have because they production with its own unique would allow us to tell a more complete message? story. Low and behold, 50 years later to the tee after they were photographically Yeah absolutely, that’s the goal. We’d exposed, Albe gets a phone call from love it to have its own unique message Adam Eden saying that he found some that is aligned with the original film. We rusted cans in his father’s library that

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brought together a few really talented musicians and poets to produce an original soundtrack, which Matt’s brother, Andrew, is spearheading. He was part of the musical performances for Spirit of Akasha and built a really nice connection with Albe through that.

But there’s big shoes to fill considering the original soundtrack was the first Australian soundtrack to go gold. It’s a grass roots operation like the original film.

We scanned all the materials ourselves; the film is being cut in Jonah’s grandma’s barn, and the music is being recorded at Andrew’s studio in the country. A lot of the same problems are still here, but a lot of the beauty is too. There’s still riding waves and leaving the beach the way you find, it is also still important. If the takeaway can be that we all treat our planet with a little more respect then we’ll be stoked.

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WATER COLOURED WAVES THE DISTILLED SURFING MEMORIES OF DAVE SPARKES. Words and painting by Dave Sparkes

Beachbreaks are relatively rare in Indonesia. I don’t know why that is. It could be something to do with the nature of the sand, which is mostly broken-down coral and shells and things. Or maybe it’s the lack of a continental shelf. In any case, coming across a good one when you’re totally tuned into consequential reef breaks is like a holiday. And the serendipitous thing is that Indonesian beachbreaks usually work when the swell is too small for the reefs. You couldn’t design it any better. When that beachbreak happens to be a world-class tube machine, it is something else all together; something that is singularly worth the airfare.

The discovery happened in 2010, back when I was a full-time surf photographer/ journalist. I was on a decked-out boat with a crew of surfers in the Telos Islands, and the surf was flat. We were anchored in a

bay stocked with some world-class reef breaks, but all of them were dormant. A lay day. Out of desperation, American surfer, Dillon Perillo, took the Jet Ski and headed off to some random island on a speculator, and came back half an hour later foaming at the mouth. He’d found a pumping, overhead beachbreak, offering A-framed, spitting pits: “Like South Straddie!”, he gushed. He was largely written off, but we ultimately went for a look. We had nothing else on.

empty the whole time you’re there, the feeling is the same whether you’re the first – or the hundredth – ones to surf it.

For me, as a photographer then and an artist now, the luminous turquoise colour of the water was the cherry on top. That colour has always resonated with me, and again I think it’s something to do with the sand. Whitish sand seems to create that turquoise glow, while yellow sand of course mixes with blue water to make a greener hue. Whenever I see a turquoise Our first view was from out the back, ocean, I just want to be in it. and all you could see were thick wedges, spitting furious exhausts of spray both Then paint it. ways, on a deserted white sand beach with a pristine jungle backdrop. Perillo was beyond vindicated; you’d think he’d created the place himself. It proved even better than it looked, and whether or not we were first to surf it is irrelevant. If it’s

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PRICELESS A SORDID TALE OF THEFT, BETRAYAL & A STACK OF TRACKS MAGAZINES. Written by Monty Webber

The first article I wrote for Tracks magazine was, ironically, about some Tracks magazines.

It was a true story, a sordid little tale, set in Kings Cross in the mid 80s. It included both theft and betrayal. An old schoolmate who had become a crim asked me if I still owned a ute. I had this old truck, a ‘67 Toyota Lite Stout, and a reputation for turning a blind eye to criminality. So, this old school chum, Roy, asked me if I wanted to join him in a little debt recovery job.

revolting place and reminded me of the stinky underground WW2 air-raid shelters that we played in as kids. As we climbed the stairs we passed open doored rooms, where Roy pointed out what he called, “The dregs of society” unashamedly going about their daily business.

Drug deals were going down, prostitutes were turning tricks, and alcoholics were rotting away on mattresses that looked like people had been murdered on them. A more desperate place I had never been. I loved it.

“This prick owes me thousands, took off up the coast with a brick of hash. Putty. We’re gonna kick in his door and take all of his shit and sell it.” Roy explained.

On the top floor we were met by a chainlocked door. Roy attacked it like Leatherface in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. He smashed that door right off its hinges and we found ourselves in the open air on the top of the building. The morning sunlight was a welcome relief from our ascension through Dante’s Inferno. I was impressed to see a small forest of herbs and vegetables and a complete outside undercover gym. It was obvious from the dead plants that no one had been there for a few weeks. Roy charged down the door to the stylish penthouse like his children were being held hostage in there.

“Sounds fair.” I confirmed I was in.

“Tops.”

“But I’ll have to charge ya $200 for the day.”

“200!”

“Danger money eh.” I was acting like a tough guy, driving a hard bargain.

“Fair enough.”

I don’t think Roy ever had any intention of paying me anything. Up in Kings Cross I parked on the corner of Bourke Street and St Peters Lane, just down from the old Sydney Filmmakers Co-op, where I first saw Morning of the Earth 15 years earlier. Roy grabbed his sledgehammer from the back of the truck, and we entered a six storey bombed out building that smelt of piss and shit. It was a

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I followed Roy into the clean and tidy living space and we took a look around. It was a stylish, fully self-contained unit and completely at odds to the rancid accommodation on the floors below. Roy pointed out what he decided was of value. There was a nice TV and stereo, and a big record collection. Roy turned the place inside-out and upside-down looking for any hidden money or valuables. He discovered an expensive looking wrist watch and some dubious jewellery. I saw that one of the potted plants outside was dope. I plucked the

perfectly dried single head from the plant and asked Roy if he felt like a puff.

“Na mate, you go for it. I’m gonna run this stuff over the road to the hock shop and see what I can get. Take what ya can down to the truck and I’ll be back soon to load the rest.”

It didn’t take me long to find some Tally Ho papers and roll a joint. As I smoked the strong weed I poked around to see what else I could find. That’s when I discovered the neat pile of mint condition old Tracks magazines. I knew right away they were worth something.

They were stacked in chronological order, from 1972 till ‘75 and while not a complete collection, a mighty impressive one.

Stoned out of my mind, I journeyed through the pages of those pristine magazines. They were like a time machine that took me back to a completely different era. There was the classic issue with Michael Peterson on the cover, standing with a briefcase with ‘MP’ written on it. A sepia Jeff Hakman driving a searing turn off the bottom at Honolua. There were stories about travelling the Hippy Trail from London to Goa, and Chile to Peru. I was in heaven.

When Roy got back I made the mistake many a novice wheeler-dealer makes. I gushed profusely about how fantastic the magazines were.

“Really?” Roy asked.

“Mate, they’re priceless.” I wanted him to be as happy as I was.

What’s your stash of Tracks worth to you? Every classic issue of Tracks will soon be made available online to Tracks subscribers.

Later that day, after many loads to different hock shops and second hand stores, selling everything from the emptied water bed to the gym set, Roy told me I could keep the Tracks magazines in lieu of payment.

“What... Instead of cash?” I asked.

“Mate, you said yourself they’re priceless.”

“I know but we agreed on $200.”

“Yeah, well...things change.”

And so it was that I came to cart around that box of old Tracks magazines for the next 35 years. I moved house pretty much once a year and stored them in a multitude of places when I was either living up the coast or overseas. I left them at Mum and Dad’s for five years, in my brothers garage for two, and under mate’s joint for another eight. They were almost chucked out a half a dozen times but somehow survived. I can’t tell you how many times I have lifted that box and been tempted to look again at those classic old magazines. But I never did. I figured a good part of their value was the excellent condition they were in, so I decided to not to turn a single page, for the whole time I was in possession of them.

Those magazines are the only surf memorabilia I have ever hung on to. Except for a surfboard I found under a house in Avalon about 25 years ago. I spotted it from the house next door and realised it was a banged up old Plastic Machine twin fin from about 1970. I knocked on the front door of the house and asked the bloke who lived there if I could swap

him a brand-new Webber for the old twinny under his house. This was before the whole surf vintage thing took off so he was stoked to get a new board for an old one.

Then, a few weeks ago one of my daughters rang and told me she was coming to Sydney and we could spend a day together. I found myself in a hole for money. I didn’t have time to organise a ‘bridging loan’ so decided to see what I could get once and for all for the Plastic Machine. I had no idea what it was worth so joined an online vintage surfboard collectors valuation group but couldn’t get anyone to tell me what it might be worth. A guy pm’d me that he would be happy to come to my place and take a closer look at it. When he arrived, I had no plan to sell him the box of old Tracks magazines. But after he gave me $300 cash for the surfboard, I asked him if he was interested in looking at the magazines. He pretended to be uninterested, and then unimpressed.

never be able to remember which ones they were.

I looked back online and saw that some of them were for sale for over $200 each. I spotted the one with Michael Peterson on the cover holding the MP briefcase and saw that it was for sale for $500. I fretted for about three days, feeling like I’d been robbed. Then my daughter arrived and we had the most fantastic day together. Ironically, I didn’t even spend the $500. We had heaps of fun doing inexpensive things like walking around in town and catching the ferry to Manly for lunch. A few days later I told a mate of mine what had happened.

“So, you helped someone steal them 35 years ago and accepted them in lieu of $200 payment for your day’s work, and now you finally get paid $200 for that day’s work, all these years later.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve already got all these issues, but I’ll give you $200 for the lot. You know, so you can have a nice day with ya little girl.”

“I suppose.”

I jumped at the chance to have $500 to spend on my daughter. He left quickly and I went back upstairs into my flat and felt a sudden pang of regret. It wasn’t the board I regretted selling, but the magazines. For the next couple of days I couldn’t get those old Tracks mags out of my mind. It was like I was being haunted by them. I rang the bloke I sold them to and asked him if I could buy them back from him. He told me that he had already blended them in with his collection in chronological order and that he would

“What about interest? Rent paid on storage?

Pain and suffering?”

“It’s your karma.”

“$200 seems a lot of money for a day’s work 30 years ago.”

“It included danger money.”

“What price would you put on your day with your daughter?”

“Ah well. That was priceless.”

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Classic Goodvibes THE BEST OF TRACKS’ SPIRIT ANIMAL, THE PIG OF STEEL. Illustration by Tony Edwards

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Line-up

A late afternoon piece of Northern NSW perfection slips through unridden and peels off invitingly as a champagne sea shimmers and fizzes.

PHOTO : B E N BU G D E N