David Sparkes delivers a startling gallery (and blog) of the recent run of Australia’s east coast swell.

Mada Sudana sets up.

I can hardly move. I’m stiff and sore and cramped and burned and buggered and physically spent. I couldn’t be happier. It’s been quite a while since I was surfed out. Actually, no it hasn’t! I’ve been surfed out about five times in the last month. Today I surfed the sickest rip bowl I’ve tasted for years. A rampaging and non-stop rampage of four-to-five foot right hand bowls that were just endless, relentless. There were honestly no sets at all, unless you count a three hour sequence of about 2000 waves as one set. It was insanely consistent, and there was only one other guy out, a local grom. There would have been enough waves for 50 frothers, though.

AJ Sudana drops into a bomb.

Somewhere in New South Wales.

It was a flashback for me, virtually identical shape to the form of my old favourite bank at the beach I grew up in, 3rd Ramp Rights at Bondi. But there were no signs of the ‘Di there. No wanna be blow-ins, no ripping locals, no hot chicks, no good coffee, no Uge, no backpackers, no Bondi Rescue Nouveau stars. There was just me, a kid called Joey Tedesco and a couple of ganets, who were also stoked, but not on the waves so much. Oh they were enjoying riding the updrafts from the unbroken swells, but they were mainly into the schools of garfish. They were dive bombing them, then popping up like corks and swallowing them without any apparent concern at the long, gnarly garfish beaks; it was just boom, down the hatch. They must have throats of tempered leather.

Where’s the f*%$#@*& damn track?

Joe Haddon lets Sparksie get under his skin.

But God, the waves. I’m beginning to wonder if this swell will ever end! Oh shit why did I say that?! I’ve probably just jinxed it and kissed it to death … but maybe I sub-consciously want to! Maybe I need a rest? A time to ponder, a bit of time out to absorb this, this … this  thing, this phenomenon!

One lucky punter.

It’s been nor-east swell, south swell, east swell, consistent swell. I’m sure that when it does finally go flat, I’ll be shocked out of my dusty complacency with a rude awakening. Kind of like the ending of a relationship you’d been sure you were over, done with, ready to move on from. And then out of the blue, the other person ends it instead . . . and you are almost comically shattered: “shit what happened?!!!” I bet it’ll be just like that when the crunch finally comes, but at least we’ll all get a rest. And like relationships, there’ll always be another roll of the dice, another go around the block, another swell on the horizon.

One stylish bottom turn.

Reach out and touch it.

Boom, crash, opera.

Words and photos: Dave Sparkes

Website: Sparkesphoto