When the waves are huge at Bronte, something tells Adrian ‘Taco‘ Kovacic he has to paddle out, and he doesn’t mind if nobody is coming with him. It’s not the first time he’s gone to great lengths to ride wild surf alone at his local break, but this was extreme on a whole new level.   

On Wednesday morning Sydney’s outer reefs and banks were tossing up waves in the twenty-foot realm. Most of those with a mind to take on the swell headed for Coogee’s Wedding Cake Island or Deadman’s at Manly. Meanwhile, at around 7:30 am Taco was suiting up at Bronte, equipped with a 9’1”, bright red, Brett Warner gun and a low-key buoyancy vest. From shore Bronte looked like an aquatic war zone, as colossal waves imploded in every direction, and sets broke so far out it was impossible to fathom their size.

Undeterred by the unruly sea, or the absence of surfing company, Taco made his way to his usual jump-off spot in front of the cliffs at Waverley cemetery.  Before heading out he’d chatted briefly with the lifeguards and his mate Troy, a surfer and personal trainer, who was working with a client in the park. They all knew this was just the kind of thing Taco did.  

Once at the cemetery it quickly became apparent that it was not a viable entry point. “I rocked up to the Cemo’s jump off, and I was just like, there’s no way I’m jumping off,” Taco explains over he phone. “Absolutely no way… The waves were coming up so high on the cliffs.”

At that point Taco decided he would have to walk a further km and a half south to Gordon’s Bay and then paddle back to Bronte via cliffs and rock shelfs in a twenty-foot-plus swell. It’s worth noting that this is unprecedented; nobody does it, it’s simply not an accepted route of entry in big swells amongst the local surfers.

Once at Gordon’s Bay, a typically protected deep-water zone where snorkeling is popular, Taco was shocked by the scene.  “It was eight to 10 foot, closing out the bay. I kid you not. There were waves breaking in that middle of the deep bay… I’ve never seen it before like that. And so then I was just like, maybe I can just get a good lull…”

The quest begun badly when Taco winded himself as he leapt onto his board. Then he recalls being caught inside by a rogue set that broke where waves typically don’t, and dragged towards the bommie. “It was breaking in line with the car park and the bommie, it was closing out… A set came and I was a bit further in. I was fine, but I still had to bail my board. That was the sketchiest part of the surf, because I started getting dragged towards the bommie, where the rocks are. And it was just top-to-bottom square, closing out, it was so sketchy. Luckily a lull came, and I pinned it out the back quickly.”

Taco finally made it to open water, but he still had about a km-plus of paddling back to Bronte. His biggest concern was getting caught by a set in front of the cliffs, so he veered way offshore. That far out, there were both physical and psychological hurdles to overcome. “I was probably about half a kilometre out. It was just a bit eerie out there, just bobbing up and down in the swells… it’s hard not to think about sharks, especially after what happened to that poor bloke the other week… I just wanted to kind of be safe, but then I was like, ‘Fuck, this is too far out. Like, I’m so far out to sea this is ridiculous.’…I couldn’t paddle fast because I had all this wetsuit on, and I was very restricted and then when you’ve got a wide board, a big Rhino chaser, it’s hard to paddle fast for long distances… And it was eight o’clock in the morning as well, so the sun wasn’t up that high and there was a lot of glare bouncing off the water, and I couldn’t see much.”

Unbeknownst to Taco, he’d been spotted by members of the public who’d seen a lone madman paddling in front of the cliffs as the spray from twenty-foot swells bounced up and over the coastal ledges. The concerned citizens phoned the police and the Lifeguards. The police headed for the cliffs. The Lifeguards knew it was Taco. He might have mentioned he’d have to paddle from Clovelly. They weren’t that surprised when they found he was doing it. 

Eventually Taco rounded the corner, past the Waverley cemetery, where he encountered breaking swells and reached what he figured was the lineup. It was soon apparent that it was bigger than he expected. “I started paddling in where I normally sit. And then I realised, mate, it’s f*&^ing bigger than I thought it was. And if I paddle in anymore, I’m going to get cleaned up. So I had to paddle back out 100 metres from where I normally sit… Some of the sets I paddled over, I was just like ‘this has got to be 20-foot’.”

And so ensued a two and half-hour game of cat and mouse, in search of a wave. “I was just like, oh, surely I’m going to get one soon. And it just didn’t happen. So I try to sit a bit further in then I see these mountains coming in from the horizon. I started pinning it back out to sea as hard as I could, and I just made it over these monsters… I was just like, ‘f%$#ing hell this is ridiculous. I can’t sit further in to catch a wave and I can’t sit out too far out. This is the worst ever’. ”

Taco managed to momentarily stand up on one swell, but the wave failed to carry him through a dead spot and once again he was back in the limbo zone. As the weather flicked between brooding squalls and moments of sunny relief Taco’s own mind began to mirror the capricious skies.

“I was going through waves of worry, and then I’d come good, and then I’d, start to worry again… It was just like, alright, it’s sunny. It’s fine. It’s good. And then it was overcast again and I’m like, damn it. Like it’s just more grim.”

In his worst moments Taco wondered if he would make it in at all and contemplated paddling a further two km to Ben Buckler at Bondi. “It was the first time I’ve ever really thought ‘Man, how am I going to get in?’ or ‘how the f*&k am I going to get a wave in?’”

However, a bitter determination ultimately won the battle over his fears.  “I was like, ‘You’re f&^%ing going in like, you got to make it, just be patient and then another wave’s gonna come, you’ve done this before’.”

As he became increasingly desperate to get a wave, Taco spotted Troy (his mate he’d seen earlier) up on the headland, using his elevated perspective to signal where to sit. It was hard to really discern what advice he was giving but the encouragement helped and eventually Taco had his chance. By now it was over three hours since he’d started walking to Gordon’s Bay.

“I was in a good spot, and I stood up, and I was just so stiff and cold and I was bouncing down the face. And then when I got to the bottom of the wave, I tried to turn and my board just wouldn’t move. It was compressed in the wave, and I just fell off and I got smoked. Then I came up and the first wave that came through after that, I just caught it and just went in.”

When Taco finally made it to shore alive, with a couple of waves under his belt, he was understandably relieved.

“I just stood under the shower and laughed,” he explains.

With the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and his wave quota not quite what he wanted it to be, Taco drove over the Harbour Bridge to try and score a Deadman’s session. However, the swell was slower there and the lineup busy, and he resigned himself to standing on the North Head cliffs, watching the waves and reflecting on the morning’s events.

A day later, when we talk on the phone, the waves are still solid but Taco’s hit an energy slump. “I’m too gassed to go out, like I’ve had a big adrenaline dump.”

Asked if he’d do it all again, paddle from Gordon’s Bay, he pauses and then responds. “Maybe I was thinking that I’d have to do it a bit better. I’d have to get a ski out there or something, or somehow try get off at Cemo’s, because yeah, that paddle is pretty sketchy.”   

Taco needn’t do it again. He’s already etched his name into Australian folklore, as the surfer who paddled from Gordon’s Bay to ride the surf at Bronte on a twenty-foot day.