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It was a rookie move, travelling to the Gold Coast without a board. But the forecast had suggested north-blown dribble and I was there for only half a day; to conduct a live Q and A with Tom Curren in conjunction with a 25th anniversary screening of his cult classic, ‘Searching for Tom Curren’. There were questions to think about for Tom and other work tasks to tick off, plus the hustle of airports is so much easier without lugging a board. Or so it was that I rationalised it.
Once I landed in Coolangatta a different instinct kicked in. “Let’s go check the surf,” I immediately asked the colleague who was picking me up. Sure enough as we rolled into the car park at Snapper two to three foot lines gripped the point and throttled down the line – powerful hypnosis for someone who’d been subsisting on a surfing diet of single section waves.
From the muggy passenger seat I enviously watched surfers bathed in warm, Autumn sun, strolling languidly towards the jump zone in boardshorts and bikinis. Out in the water the mid-morning crowd looked surprisingly mellow, and I cursed myself for even looking at the waves.
Salvation arrived suddenly and unexpectedly. John Pyzel pulled up in an SUV and clocked me sulking in the car park like a kid who’ been told they couldn’t play with their toys. Turned out the Hawaiian-based shaper was in town working on his Oz supply chain. We’d shared many sessions at various locations over the years and while he is very much the devoted shaper responsible for putting craft beneath John John’s wing-heeled feet, he’s also a surfer at heart. Once I explained my dilemma he didn’t miss a beat. “You can take my board out,” he generously offered, gesturing towards the boot where there was a ‘Wild Cat’ – the name of his latest twin fin model. “Just drop it back at the surf shop in a couple of hours.” Initially I tried to resist the offer and tell myself I should get other things done but by then the ‘Wild Cat’ was flicking its rounded pintail and showing off its four, claw-swipe channels as it howled my name.
Minutes later I was paddling against the sweep, striving to reach the gurgling takeoff zone where sand-riddled, three-foot coils jacked and flared, full of down-the-line promise. As my arms flailed against the current I sensed a forceful presence looming over my left shoulder. I turned to see Slater who promptly explained he was fresh off the plane from an extended stay in Portugal. He looked fit; sinuous muscles knotting in his back as he stroked alongside me. As always he also radiated a certain intensity, immediately expressing his disapproval when a surfer jumped off the rock straight into a wave. At 51 Kelly was obviously still happy to rumble with the ruthless Snapper pack.
“Come and play some music tonight with Tom Curren,” I suggested optimistically. The show was scheduled to include a short set by Tom and his son Pat and I couldn’t help but throw it out there to Kelly who is also a serial guitar strummer. He looked half interested, but I guess Kelly had never been one for commitments and my invite was a randomly tossed comment in a lineup that didn’t allow for much pause and consideration. “You should get Tom to talk in French,” he quipped. “He won’t stop talking in French,” he assured me.
Not long after I watched Kelly jag a good one. He dropped in late, opened up the shoulders and swung through a couple of clean sections with biomechanics that belonged to a much younger man; at 51 he still offered a riveting mix of power and precision. No hint of stiffness or diminished speed. It was still like being ringside with Ali in his prime.
As Kelly kicked off a wizened local turned and stated earnestly. “That’s pretty good to see isn’t it! ” I heartily concurred.
Shortly after Kelly kicked out, a giant bait ball swept past the lineup, a silvery shimmer leaping in fright as much bigger fish chased them around Point Danger. Beneath the surface, dark shadows speared towards their prey. “Is that tuna?” exclaimed big Wade Carmichael, a noted fisherman who seemed almost ready to trade his board for his rod. Northern Beaches surfer Letty Mortensen had been living on the Goldy and told me he’d seen a shark the last half a dozen times he’d surfed. Despite the frenzy of marine life no one went in.
Eventually I found a wave that let me get a feel for the ‘Wild Cat’. The board had all the looseness that gets you hooked on twinnys but the channel bottom and pin-tail ensured it also boasted plenty of bite. The end result, a pleasing mix of down the line speed with enough grip to swing top-to-bottom when the right section presented itself.
Drifting down the line away from the voracious Snapper pack, I eventually hit Greenmount. On the outgoing tide the forgiving walls gradually became hollower, until two-three foot cylinders sucked dry over the shallow sandbank. The crowd thinned to all but a few and eventually an unmistakable figure in a long-sleeved rash-vest appeared in the lineup. It was John John, escaping the crowds and hunting the low-tide, Greenmount drainers on his new Red Tiger model.
Even in tiny waves JJF was a marvel to watch, adopting the same approach to micro-tunnels as he does to big barrels – take off deep, travel for as long as you can and do whatever it takes to find an exit. When the natural order of things brought us alongside one another, I asked John what he might want to ask Tom Curren. “Ask him if he really loved it when he was on tour,” John suggested. It felt like John was in part expressing his own misgivings about what is at times a brutally deflating sport, particularly when the free-surfing option so readily beckons. John was soon joined by former CT entertainer Sebastian Zietz. As the two friends happily engaged in a Coolangatta tube duel up the point, I snaffled a wide set and opened up the throttle on the Wild Cat, relishing the freedom to do nothing but go as fast as I could with two fins and four channels beneath my feet. The board had all the grip and glide I wanted and it was a sweet way to finish a fun session I never even expected to have.
That night Tom Curren was in a talkative mood on stage, making jokes about his impending Bells battle with Occy, talking about his obscure boards, riffing on his love of Australian music and taking the mickey out of the bright wetsuits he wore in the 80s. When I asked him John John’s question, he even gave a long list of reasons explaining why he really did love his time on tour. No doubt some other part of him wanted to pull away and just play music, but how many of us are ever really totally absorbed by what we do?
So a serendipitous day in the fleeting company of three, world champions came to an end. Was there some deeper meaning to be gleaned from the casual observations of these greats? Probably not, but it was clear all of them were working hard to create ways to stay in love with surfing – whether it was a different board, another competition, a shift down the line, witty banter or a riff that captured the essence of a surfing life, they were all working the angles. We might never ride waves with the same sense of mastery as world champions, but like them, we can all strive to find new ways to fall in love with surfing all over again.
