“Aht, ja, the ous had a lekker jol last night.” It takes a moment to decode the thick South African accent and another to translate; ‘everyone partied hard last night’ or something to that effect. Sore heads and strong coffees are the order of the morning; bleak-looking spectators clinging to life-breathing caffeinated beverages.
It’s a miserable walk to the event site in the half-light of dawn; driving rain squalls and blasts of icy wind. A quick sprint between buildings and past a newsstand with a soaked poster reading ‘JORDY IS OUT’; it all seems very gloomy. A sneaky entrance through the back onto the boardwalk and into the shelter of the grandstand and everything starts to change. Despite the majority of the crowd being babalas (hung, fucking, over; South Africans take their Friday nights seriously) there’s energy about the place.
The cold is bitter; the brunt of the front right upon us. Afrikaners are getting around in their traditional cold weather gear of shorts, t-shirt and slops; like the guy confusing foreigners about lekker jols just now. Everyone else is layered to the nines with as many jackets as can be found. But the weather can’t dampen spirits; it’s finals day at the J-Bay Open and the waves are cooking.
Despite the beach announcers insisting that it’s six to eight foot and flawless the waves are actually a bit wild and woolly for the early heats. Six foot max on the good waves with anything eight foot breaking wide of the point and turning to kak. There is a killer wobble in the swell causing some waves to section badly. It’s a lot bigger and steeper than it looks on the webcast; turning your head to watch the replay on the big screen somehow almost halves wave size.
When the heats get under way the crowd’s excitement level can be measured in their response to what’s going on in the water. Excitement level of about eight for a barrel compared to five for a ‘man turn’ (it’s Supertubes after all, not Supercarves). But dolphins elicit a greater response; nine to ten. A barrel with dolphins? Well that’s an eleven thanks very much CJ.
Through the quarters the non-Australians are eliminated and there’s an understanding that the game is now on; the fat has been cut away. Then the ‘heritage round’ happens. Opinions in the crowd are mixed; some say great idea, others feel it’s an indulgent waste of time. Either way it has the feel of a reunion concert put on by a sixties rock band trying to fund their retirement; it doesn’t quite do the memory justice. The momentum of the day slows, the toilet line grows and everyone kind of goes ‘whoa, did you see Curren’s ten?’ -Which they themselves only half-watched on the coffee stall’s webcast screen.
It’s probably been said a hundred times by now but this afternoon will go down in history as some of the best competitive surfing ever. The organisers couldn’t have hoped for anything more; the waves cleaned up and the heats were stacked with in-form surfers. The sun even showed its face. The swell was due to pull in yesterday; when it didn’t there must’ve been a few panicked heads. But anyone who knows anything about forecasting in J-Bay knows that the swell is always late.
The lucky tjops who got to surf Supertubes with only one other in the water didn’t waste the opportunity and went ballistic. There were some upsets early in the event but when the waves really turned on it was the world’s best surfers who prevailed. Aw shit yeah.
The ous will be jolling hard again tonight.
Mick Fanning laying down one of the smoothest cutbacks in the business and heating up the world title race. Photo: ASP/Cestari
