Inspired by the birth of his daughter, Olivia, Julian Wilson is the victor in one of pro surfing’s most memorable finals. So often such grand fixtures disappoint, but Kirra saved her best for last today, providing the perfect setting for an old-fashioned tube duel between Wilson and Ace Buchan. Wilson may have been carrying a shoulder injury, but this was still two surfers at the top of their respective games, competing in stellar conditions. Pro surfing doesn’t get much better and the day has done much to restore faith in the WSL’s capacity to go mobile and chase the best waves and deliver fans and surfers the kind of action they crave. However, while Wilson is the moment’s wounded hero it would be remiss not to consider some of the other events, which preceded his brave victory.
The day begun with an argument at Greenmount over whose wave it had rightly been. That one myself and that other guy both took off on. Three seconds into the dispute I pulled myself up and said, “I can’t be bothered arguing mate the waves are too good,” after which I paddled away. The swell had bumped up considerably; the winds were a tickle and the full length of the Superbank was firing.
It was finals day and for once the WSL was spoilt for choice. The comp could have run anywhere on the stretch, but there was really only one place that would satisfy the expectations of fans and the surfers alike – Kirra. In one word it seems to contain the sum total of all surfing dreams. Even if you’ve never been there Kirra represents an idyllic state of mind.
Early in the morning, beneath stormy skies at Kirra, a handful of free surfers – some famous and some not – were starring in a surfing soap opera called ‘These are the waves of our lives.’ You can check out some of the stellar moments here, courtesy of Tracks deputy editor Ben Bugden’s gallery. Ben shot from the groyne, but one respected photog I spoke to attempted to swim out three times and failed on every occasion – it was a good indicator of just how much water was moving around the lineup.
By the time I claimed a viewing rock down from the groyne, Kirra was a labyrinth of tubes all the way down to Tugun. Every now and again a wave would spit so violently you were concerned that someone from the WCT might be cut in two. It was wondrous, but it obviously wouldn’t be easy.
After yesterday’s dazzling display, Owen Wright had the tube-riding form going into the first quarter. On the morning of the finals you might have picked him as a possible favourite, given Julian’s injury and the lack of experience in the remaining field. However, Owen looked a little lost in a Kirra lineup that lacked the more defined take off spot that Snapper Rocks boasts. Meanwhile ‘all-day Adrian’, as beach commentator Bruce Lee loudly dubbed him, looked extremely comfortable with his hand on the rail and his knee tucked up. Ace has been known to boast that at home on the Central Coast of NSW he has a wave that corresponds with almost every spot on tour. There are definitely a couple that offer plenty of opportunities for goofy footers to rehearse their backside tube-riding skills.
As Ace dropped into his opening wave got swallowed and hurled out, Mick Fanning and Joel Parkinson, the two most experienced Kirra exponents on the CT, could have been somewhere kicking the dog. Instead they were up at Snapper doing step-offs and pulling into stand-up tubes; turning their back on a moment where they would have thrived on bruising rookie egos and proving that their surfing was still superior in at least one very important way – getting tubed.
Like Owen, Toledo never really showed up, leaving Tomas Hermes to windmill his diminutive frame through a couple of tube to carve combos. Hermes was doing nothing exceptional, but he was solid and smart enough to realise that he could defeat his underperforming Brazilian peer without taking unnecessary risks. This wasn’t the Kirra tube duel we wanted to see. My only regret is not putting twenty bucks on Hermes to make the semis. I’m sure the odds were good.
From the commentary booth Rabbit delivered engaging history lessons and insights on surfing Kirra. Rabs had some good one-liners. Describing the slow movement of sand when the Superbank initially clogged up Kirra he suggested it was ‘a bit like a python with a chook caught in its mouth.’ He also described Kirra as being like ‘sand-bottom Teahupoo where the bottom goes before the top’. Against the heavily fancied Michael Rodriguez, Julian got one just like that and instantly squashed any doubts about his ability to get barrelled with his injured wing. By the end of the day anyone listening to the commentary was actually an expert in Julian Wilson’s shoulder. My phone served as an ideal source of action replay and commentary quips while the Kirra provided the live hypnosis.
Griffin Colapinto had already proven himself a giant killer before meeting Michel Bourez in the quarters. As one fan flanking me on the path put it succinctly, ‘You would have backed Bourez in the barrel.’ Griff hadn’t even surfed Kirra before so he’d been out before the day’s heats started, getting a crash-course in the wave against which almost all others are still measured. After watching his Joel Parkinson clips on repeat, the Kirra planets aligned for Griff, who lucked into the best wave of the day in his quarter with Bourez. He didn’t know it was going to barrel three times; if he did he wouldn’t have claimed so hard after the second one. The important thing was he held his line and exited cleanly into a world where he makes semi-finals and scores tens in his first contest. The keen-eyed grommet next to me, who’d snapped his leggie in a tube at Kirra that morning, turned to me and said earnestly at the end of the heat. “No one’s going to see Griffin as an underdog anymore.” He was dead right. He might just become a top dog.
The semi between Buchan and Hermes was a slightly stifled affair, with Ace’s seven the only real moment to celebrate. Some of the fans on the beach felt that
Hermes was unlucky not to get the 4.84 he needed on his final ride (he got a 4).
One of the judges, who was walking back to his room in the break, wisely pointed out to me afterwards that down at Kirra the fans didn’t have the benefit of the video replay as the judges did. ‘It wasn’t much of a barrel,’ he explained. For Hermes it was still a huge result and likely a massive return for anyone who had money on him to make the semis.
Surfing against Griffin in the second semi, Julian was in a way clashing with a younger version of himself – a dynamic, solidly built natural footer, blessed with flair and power and the promise of a big future. This time Colapinto’s inexperience showed as he made too many wrong wave choices. By this stage Julian’s self-belief had kicked to another level and he knew how to extricate the biggest, roundest tunnels from a lineup that would be overwhelming to a first timer.
By the time Ace and Julian paddled out for the final, the swell was on a plateau, the tide had nudged in and the lineup looked a little easier to negotiate. Or maybe by their third surf that day they just had it dialled. On his first wave Julian hurled himself into what resembled a wall of folding concrete. He came through the back gate not the back door and only a wave like Kirra could stay so round as to permit an exit from such a beastly section. Shortly after Jules came flying out his mum, Nola, wandered along the beach, holding a paper parasol in one hand and a score-card with a ten on it, in the other. The photographers saw the perfect symmetry of the moment and rushed over, the judges meanwhile decided that the moment was a few decimal points away from perfect.
For Ace Buchan it was the best of times and the worst of times. He was in a final at pumping Kirra with a jet ski to return him to an empty line-up after every ride.
However, he was soon in a combination situation courtesy of a wounded warrior.
With true grit, deft backside tube riding technique and one dramatically poached pit from Julian Wilson, Ace twice surfed his way out of combo land. However, despite the damaged rocky boulder, Julian persisted in pulling into sand-riddled monsters. Watching on you you feared he risked further injury, but adrenalin-assisted desire had obviously eclipsed every other feeling or emotion. Eventually Julian found the exit on his second steroid-overdosed tube and made the equation all too hard for Ace.
I didn’t hang around for the champagne show and the speeches as I felt Julian summed up exactly where he was at when Rosie cuddled up to him post heat. “Honestly witnessing the birth of my child gave me the strength to suck it up and do what I needed to do… I got a lot of inspiration from my wife.”
With one line Julian just went from a pin-up boy to a candidate for dad of the year. It’s early days but he is number one on the Jeep leader board and an early contender rather than a late-running dark horse for the title he so badly wants.
Quote of the week still goes to my girlfriend though and credit to Mikey Wright.
“Luke, can you please grow a mullet.”
