my latest trip
Posted: Mon Feb 16, 2004 4:13 amdestination: coolangatta, queensland, australia, surfing capital of oz.
tranport: 13 hours in a station wagon stuffed in the back with 6 boards.
first day: arrived after staying the night at a dodgy 12 dollar motel, at 5 o clock. raining, grey but the 200 buck apartment was refreshing. just across the road from snapper. surf was lousy so we got an early night, praying to the gods it would be pumping tmoz.
day 2: raised at 5 in the morning, hoping for an empty line up. i was first to the balcony and nearly fainted at wat i saw. the sun just rising, perfect 6 foot set running parallel down the beach for the famous "green mile". and, absolutely packed. we waxed up the various selection of boards, ranging from a 5'6 fish to a 6'7 gun and hopped the road avoiding the masses of unassuming tourists flocking to the beach.
the paddle out: scarist thing i have ever done in surfing. some of my mates went rock climbing and jumped in, avoiding the wash zone but accepting some nasty cuts, while a few of us stuck to the good ol' paddle. i was halfway out when the first set came in. as i gathered my board under me to duckdive, i noticed there was somone on it already. a local presumably. instead of avoiding me, however, he beelines straight to me and clipped my leg just as i went under. i came up and ignored it, but heard the screeching calls and hoots of "kook" and "blow in" i made it to the lineout, only to find myself floating in the middle of 4 guys who had strategically placed themselves around me and my 2 mates. i saw the tatoos before anything. burliegh, 4220, and BB tatooed on every available limb. i cursed my bad luck. the burleigh boys. the most feared and respected surfing gang in the country, and i had accidently paddled into their line up. nodding respectfully i paddled down the line, settling for the day of scraps, closeouts and dodging fat tourists on bodyboard. none the less, it was amazing. paddled in at 3 that arvo, tired but alive with adrenaline. the word was there was no parties, so we settled for a early nite and a few cold ones. the verdict: i think im gonna like it here.
day 3: raised early again to the window to see a identical sight to that of yesterday, minus the crowd. i hooted to the crew, and board and sprinted the beach. as i enter the water however im in for the cruel suprise. sea weed. everywhere. and icy cold water. i see the 5-6 foot sets rolling in and ignore it. its perfect. not crowded. a little too good. i suddenly remember all the locals would be back at work or school. my first wave was killer. right from the point no less then 3 ks down to kirra. longest ride ive ever done. the wave closes out after about 5 minutes of riding and i finish with a quick snap to the shore. i look around and find myself in unfamiler territory. i look behind me and see snapper and my motel a mile away. groaning, i struggle to the beach and start the long tedious walk back to the point known as "the march" im soon joined by some ppl i recognise as tourists carrying big fat learn-to-surf boards taking the march back up. it gets to 2 o clock, and suddenly the screech of cars surround the beach. school and work must both be out, and the word is around its going off. less than 5 minutes and im back in my first spot down the line with tourists and kooks and bodyborders, picking up the scraps the locals left to us. i get in that night just as happy.
day 4: i wake up first as usual and race to the window in anticipation of another great day, only to slump down, deafeated by the cruel mistress that is an onshore wind and a moving sandbar. it is flat. no worse that flat, not even moving. my mates gather themselves over a breakie of cold pizza from the night before and discuss strategy. a mate looks up from the laptop and reveals startling news. fingal is going off. id heard of fingal. its south, down in the tweed about 15 minutes. the vote is passed and the boards are packed and we are off. we arrive to a beautiful site. both the alley and reef at fingal are great. small, 2-4 foot maybe, but clean, and relatively empty. only a local group sit at the point. they are hard to make out. dark i guess, the sun is only just up. we paddle out,and straight to the line up, but suddenly retreat. all of them are aboriginal. that was something else id heard about. the abo crew at fingal. HEAVY!. we retreat futher still down the line and sit there, eyeing the locals carefully. they seem to be talking. the discussion stops and one paddles over to to us. he seems the oldest, prolly 23. we nervously wait. when he arrives, sam, a mate of mine is the first to talk. "nah its okay we are out of here" and turns to paddle in, we all follow. suddenly the locals face cracks open in a hooting laugh. so much in fact he falls of his board and splutters around in the water. when he regains himself, he smiles at us and speaks. "cuz, me and my mates were just wonerin why ya are sitting down here like kooks?" i answer. "err we heard you are heavy, to keep away". he laughs again, and paddles away, signalling for us to follow. we do and hence have a great day in the small surf. the crew are really nice, friendly in fact, curious about why we thought them heavy. they seem pleased though, to have someone to surf with. we shake hands and leave that afternoon, promising to come back before we leave. happy, we head home, throw down a few and hit the sack, buggered by the days events.
day 5: hopefully, but not optimistic, i make it to the window to the the surf. lackluster, to say the least. there is a small right coming through down a bit, towards greenmount, but has been claimed by a learn to surf school already. disapointed, we asses the surrounding areas. fingal? flat. kirra? flat. surfers? flat. the moral is low among the group, and we settle for a day in watching the cricket. its a shame, on the day like this to not be outside, somone says. almost like and omen, one of the gold coasts famous quick storms brew up. its really exciting actually. lots of thunder and lightening and rain, and windy as hell. it goes on for about 45 minutes, close to 4 oclock in the arvo. suddenly, we lose power. we draw the curtains and light candles, even sadder we cant watch australia beat india in the cricket. after about 1 1/2 hours, someone peaks out the window and yelps. we rush over and nearly die with excitment. snapper is going off! the storm which killed our fun for the day brought a windswell easily 7 or eight foot at snapper point. better still, its not packed, the local word isnt around yet. we head out, pumping with adrenaline for easily the biggest waves all trip. There is a lull for awhile when suddenly a set rears up infront of me, im in pefect position. Taking off just past the rocks I take the drop smoothly and carve back up the face. I hit off the lip and just make the drop again. I rise again, seeing a beautiful section opening up in front of me. Out of no where, ahead of me, a local drops down the face and screams with delight, cutting me off. In the few moment before im pact, I assess my situation. The wave is easily 8-9 foot, and about to close out. Before I can move the lip comes down, smashing me square in the head. As I get rolled over in the foam I feel myself and my board being dragged along the sharp reef at the bottom. My leg rope pulls at me hard, then suddenly goes slack. After about 15 more seconds of being rolled around. I find myself lying down on the sand. I look up and realize its tossed me all the way into shore. Worse still, I look down and see the remains of my leggie, clean snapped. I look around the nearly die. Whats left of my board is being mercilessly beat against the rocks. I swim in and find bits and pieces of it, the biggest bit I can find is the nose, the rest of floating around and lying on the rocks. Defeated, I march back to the motel with no other option. That was my best and longest board, taking anything else out would be suicide. I fall asleep and wake to my mates climbing the stairs laughing and bragging about their waves.
Day 6: our last day in coolie and the surf is flat early. We check out Fingal and say bye to the crew we met there and surf for awhile. After my board was snapped yesterday im riding a 5’8 fish with a mind of its own when it comes to turning. We head back after a few hours and the surf has picked up abit. We all paddle out at snapper, me, apprehensive after last time. For some reason, the locals are all friendly with nods and “hows it going” from a few of the older guys. Im amazed. Ive finally been accepted by the snapper crew, and it took a snapping of my board to do so. After a wave I paddle back into the line up to test my chances. Theres a guy on a mal sitting next to me. We both go for a wave and I take off just inside of him. I call it and amazingly he pulls off. I milk it all the way in and paddle back out, beaming. “I saw u take that fall yesterday and saw your board. You’re tough” and paddles away. Im so happy. The sun is just starting to set and small sets roll through, and now I don’t have to fight for waves I have a great time. Just as we are leaving a younger guy about 18 walks up to us and says “coolangatta rsl. 8 oclock.” We get home and get changed for a big night. Coolie RSL is the social point of the district. There is a massive dance floor and fantastic females everywhere. Queensland easily has the best looking girls ever. I wont go into detail, but lets just say we were all even the next morning.
Day 7: we all wake up hungover for the drive home. We head down to the water for a sober up and then all pack into the station wagon for the trip home. Minus the board I snapped I have a bit more room in the back and the trip home is great, retelling all the stories crowning people waves. We arrive back in Sydney to a grey dull rainy city, and think back and see how lucky we were for our 5 days in the best break in Australia.
Total Records
Boards snapped: 1 ($540)
Drinks Brought: 58 ($200)
Being accepted by the heaviest crew in Australia: Priceless.
~def
tranport: 13 hours in a station wagon stuffed in the back with 6 boards.
first day: arrived after staying the night at a dodgy 12 dollar motel, at 5 o clock. raining, grey but the 200 buck apartment was refreshing. just across the road from snapper. surf was lousy so we got an early night, praying to the gods it would be pumping tmoz.
day 2: raised at 5 in the morning, hoping for an empty line up. i was first to the balcony and nearly fainted at wat i saw. the sun just rising, perfect 6 foot set running parallel down the beach for the famous "green mile". and, absolutely packed. we waxed up the various selection of boards, ranging from a 5'6 fish to a 6'7 gun and hopped the road avoiding the masses of unassuming tourists flocking to the beach.
the paddle out: scarist thing i have ever done in surfing. some of my mates went rock climbing and jumped in, avoiding the wash zone but accepting some nasty cuts, while a few of us stuck to the good ol' paddle. i was halfway out when the first set came in. as i gathered my board under me to duckdive, i noticed there was somone on it already. a local presumably. instead of avoiding me, however, he beelines straight to me and clipped my leg just as i went under. i came up and ignored it, but heard the screeching calls and hoots of "kook" and "blow in" i made it to the lineout, only to find myself floating in the middle of 4 guys who had strategically placed themselves around me and my 2 mates. i saw the tatoos before anything. burliegh, 4220, and BB tatooed on every available limb. i cursed my bad luck. the burleigh boys. the most feared and respected surfing gang in the country, and i had accidently paddled into their line up. nodding respectfully i paddled down the line, settling for the day of scraps, closeouts and dodging fat tourists on bodyboard. none the less, it was amazing. paddled in at 3 that arvo, tired but alive with adrenaline. the word was there was no parties, so we settled for a early nite and a few cold ones. the verdict: i think im gonna like it here.
day 3: raised early again to the window to see a identical sight to that of yesterday, minus the crowd. i hooted to the crew, and board and sprinted the beach. as i enter the water however im in for the cruel suprise. sea weed. everywhere. and icy cold water. i see the 5-6 foot sets rolling in and ignore it. its perfect. not crowded. a little too good. i suddenly remember all the locals would be back at work or school. my first wave was killer. right from the point no less then 3 ks down to kirra. longest ride ive ever done. the wave closes out after about 5 minutes of riding and i finish with a quick snap to the shore. i look around and find myself in unfamiler territory. i look behind me and see snapper and my motel a mile away. groaning, i struggle to the beach and start the long tedious walk back to the point known as "the march" im soon joined by some ppl i recognise as tourists carrying big fat learn-to-surf boards taking the march back up. it gets to 2 o clock, and suddenly the screech of cars surround the beach. school and work must both be out, and the word is around its going off. less than 5 minutes and im back in my first spot down the line with tourists and kooks and bodyborders, picking up the scraps the locals left to us. i get in that night just as happy.
day 4: i wake up first as usual and race to the window in anticipation of another great day, only to slump down, deafeated by the cruel mistress that is an onshore wind and a moving sandbar. it is flat. no worse that flat, not even moving. my mates gather themselves over a breakie of cold pizza from the night before and discuss strategy. a mate looks up from the laptop and reveals startling news. fingal is going off. id heard of fingal. its south, down in the tweed about 15 minutes. the vote is passed and the boards are packed and we are off. we arrive to a beautiful site. both the alley and reef at fingal are great. small, 2-4 foot maybe, but clean, and relatively empty. only a local group sit at the point. they are hard to make out. dark i guess, the sun is only just up. we paddle out,and straight to the line up, but suddenly retreat. all of them are aboriginal. that was something else id heard about. the abo crew at fingal. HEAVY!. we retreat futher still down the line and sit there, eyeing the locals carefully. they seem to be talking. the discussion stops and one paddles over to to us. he seems the oldest, prolly 23. we nervously wait. when he arrives, sam, a mate of mine is the first to talk. "nah its okay we are out of here" and turns to paddle in, we all follow. suddenly the locals face cracks open in a hooting laugh. so much in fact he falls of his board and splutters around in the water. when he regains himself, he smiles at us and speaks. "cuz, me and my mates were just wonerin why ya are sitting down here like kooks?" i answer. "err we heard you are heavy, to keep away". he laughs again, and paddles away, signalling for us to follow. we do and hence have a great day in the small surf. the crew are really nice, friendly in fact, curious about why we thought them heavy. they seem pleased though, to have someone to surf with. we shake hands and leave that afternoon, promising to come back before we leave. happy, we head home, throw down a few and hit the sack, buggered by the days events.
day 5: hopefully, but not optimistic, i make it to the window to the the surf. lackluster, to say the least. there is a small right coming through down a bit, towards greenmount, but has been claimed by a learn to surf school already. disapointed, we asses the surrounding areas. fingal? flat. kirra? flat. surfers? flat. the moral is low among the group, and we settle for a day in watching the cricket. its a shame, on the day like this to not be outside, somone says. almost like and omen, one of the gold coasts famous quick storms brew up. its really exciting actually. lots of thunder and lightening and rain, and windy as hell. it goes on for about 45 minutes, close to 4 oclock in the arvo. suddenly, we lose power. we draw the curtains and light candles, even sadder we cant watch australia beat india in the cricket. after about 1 1/2 hours, someone peaks out the window and yelps. we rush over and nearly die with excitment. snapper is going off! the storm which killed our fun for the day brought a windswell easily 7 or eight foot at snapper point. better still, its not packed, the local word isnt around yet. we head out, pumping with adrenaline for easily the biggest waves all trip. There is a lull for awhile when suddenly a set rears up infront of me, im in pefect position. Taking off just past the rocks I take the drop smoothly and carve back up the face. I hit off the lip and just make the drop again. I rise again, seeing a beautiful section opening up in front of me. Out of no where, ahead of me, a local drops down the face and screams with delight, cutting me off. In the few moment before im pact, I assess my situation. The wave is easily 8-9 foot, and about to close out. Before I can move the lip comes down, smashing me square in the head. As I get rolled over in the foam I feel myself and my board being dragged along the sharp reef at the bottom. My leg rope pulls at me hard, then suddenly goes slack. After about 15 more seconds of being rolled around. I find myself lying down on the sand. I look up and realize its tossed me all the way into shore. Worse still, I look down and see the remains of my leggie, clean snapped. I look around the nearly die. Whats left of my board is being mercilessly beat against the rocks. I swim in and find bits and pieces of it, the biggest bit I can find is the nose, the rest of floating around and lying on the rocks. Defeated, I march back to the motel with no other option. That was my best and longest board, taking anything else out would be suicide. I fall asleep and wake to my mates climbing the stairs laughing and bragging about their waves.
Day 6: our last day in coolie and the surf is flat early. We check out Fingal and say bye to the crew we met there and surf for awhile. After my board was snapped yesterday im riding a 5’8 fish with a mind of its own when it comes to turning. We head back after a few hours and the surf has picked up abit. We all paddle out at snapper, me, apprehensive after last time. For some reason, the locals are all friendly with nods and “hows it going” from a few of the older guys. Im amazed. Ive finally been accepted by the snapper crew, and it took a snapping of my board to do so. After a wave I paddle back into the line up to test my chances. Theres a guy on a mal sitting next to me. We both go for a wave and I take off just inside of him. I call it and amazingly he pulls off. I milk it all the way in and paddle back out, beaming. “I saw u take that fall yesterday and saw your board. You’re tough” and paddles away. Im so happy. The sun is just starting to set and small sets roll through, and now I don’t have to fight for waves I have a great time. Just as we are leaving a younger guy about 18 walks up to us and says “coolangatta rsl. 8 oclock.” We get home and get changed for a big night. Coolie RSL is the social point of the district. There is a massive dance floor and fantastic females everywhere. Queensland easily has the best looking girls ever. I wont go into detail, but lets just say we were all even the next morning.
Day 7: we all wake up hungover for the drive home. We head down to the water for a sober up and then all pack into the station wagon for the trip home. Minus the board I snapped I have a bit more room in the back and the trip home is great, retelling all the stories crowning people waves. We arrive back in Sydney to a grey dull rainy city, and think back and see how lucky we were for our 5 days in the best break in Australia.
Total Records
Boards snapped: 1 ($540)
Drinks Brought: 58 ($200)
Being accepted by the heaviest crew in Australia: Priceless.
~def