Reading Time: 4 minutes

They say whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. One of the worst imaginable situations in life is losing a child. Last year Timmy Morris lost his only son, Tim junior. Junior was only thirty eight and although it’s obviously been incredibly difficult it’s a real credit to Tim Snr just how well he has been able to deal with it. 

Tim Morris Snr, known variously as Morry, Timder, Chuck Morris, Nutsie or (my personal favourite) Tim Laden grew up in Narrabeen. As a result, for better and for worse, he was heavily influenced by a group of hard charging, hard living older Northern Beaches guys. He’s been coming to Bali and the Archipelago now for some forty years, more recently settling down in a beautiful  villa he built with his new wife, Naira, a little back from Ulu.  

Now into his sixties, Tim’s obvious Peter Pan complex belies a deeper maturity that has allowed him to handle his son’s death with a grace that’s meant he hasn’t lost his love of life. Of the Peter Pan complex he is unapologetic. “I still really love drinking coffee with the boys and going surfing,” he professes. “If that means I haven’t grown up then I’m stoked not to have grown up.” 

His job as manager of Channel Islands Padang Padang surf shop gives him plenty of opportunity to drink coffee and talk shop with a host of surfers from all around the world. It’s clear he has created a life for himself any surfer would find impossible not to admire.  

But it hasn’t come easy.  

“The guys I looked up to at the beach were pretty heavy guys getting into some pretty heavy shit and I fell into the same kind of lifestyle and was fortunate to survive, confesses Tim. “Not everyone was so lucky.”  

After leading a dangerous lifestyle in his twenties, Tim drew a line in the sand that saw him completely turn his life around. His reinvention saw him working for snowboarding company Burton. As the company thrived throughout the nineties and noughties, he led a blessed life, dividing his time between being paid to go snowboarding, and surfing.  

However, he’s also experienced real lows too, the break up of his family when the relationship with the mother of his two kids became irreconcilable was especially hard. “It was all I could do to lean on my friends to help me just keep going.” 

There’s no doubt that negotiating past adversities prepared Tim to deal with his son’s sudden and tragic death.  

“It’s very sad,” says Tim. “He went down the same path as me but wasn’t able to pull himself out of it.” 

“He had these grand criminal aspirations but really just couldn’t get out of his own way for long enough to see that all that stuff is just bullshit. Of course it has been incredibly tough personally but I was mainly worried about my daughter Chelle, she was devastated. I knew at some point there was nothing more I could do for Junior, I tried for many many years to help him, everyone did, but of course it still hurt terribly. My wife is Balinese and they are very philosophical about these things. She just said “Junior is gone now, he’s paid his karma, it was his time, he’s not suffering any more.”  

Regarding Morry’s plight, fellow former Northern Beaches itinerant Marco Clerici, put it well, “In tough times, Moz will always pick up the phone or will grab you and go for coffee. He has a great way of cutting through the bullshit and telling someone what he sees. It’s that kind of honesty and friendship that can shine a light on tough times, help you make more sense of it, and often laugh at the madness of the mistakes we can make sometimes. He’s had to face a lot of his own demons over the years, so he can level with just about anyone.” 

Last year Tim  was grateful to have the company of his friends again after the Covid restrictions were lifted. He went to G-Land to check the CT comp out with some of his closest mates, including Tom Carroll, aboard the Quiksilver boat. After such a long period with virtually no visitors during Covid it was a welcome gathering for Timmy. 

“The lack of crowds in the surf was epic but it was weird,” he explains. “It was like a ghost town at times, tumbleweeds rolling down the main street sort of stuff.”  Now, with the crowds having well and truly returned I get the impression Tim would happily return to those isolated times. 

When he’s not at work or surfing, Morry can be found having a laugh with the crew at Ulu or hanging at home with his lovely wife Naira. He still froths on the waves but is actually settling down quite a bit despite himself. Although losing Tim Jnr was a horrific thing to happen, he’s reconciled himself to life’s painful realities without letting them destroy or define him. He rolls pretty smoothly these days and checking out the lifestyle the perennial, goofy foot grommet has created for himself somehow makes the prospect of getting a bit older seem that much less daunting.