By Phil Jarratt
Despite its endless stretches of roadworks and inexplicable 80km/h zones where roadworks may have taken place in times since past, I do enjoy a ramble up and down the Pacific Highway once or twice a year.
The downside was that I missed the swell that kept on giving over and after Easter; the upside was that I also missed the worst of the crowds, while scoring a few waves in relatively isolated spots. And now that the rains have backed off, the Northern Rivers and the Mid-North Coast of NSW are brilliantly green for this late in the autumn.
I’ve been driving up and down the old Pacific looking for waves for almost half a century now, and while the old surf dog landmarks don’t mean so much these days – the Hoey Moey, the Crescent Country Club and the Bellevue at Tuncurry are just a youthful blur – so many of the beaches along the way are the same as they ever were. Between Coffs and Kempsey there are still so many places where you can find a lonely back beach or a stretch of reef that only the locals tap into.
On the last couple of Pacific runs, I’ve rediscovered one such spot, only a few kilometres off the highway, where a one-shop village nestles on a ridge between two postcard bays, both of which have fun surf on their day. And last week I renewed my acquaintance with Seal Rocks, still a breathtakingly beautiful and largely untouched gem. (But no point being coy about naming this one – it’s well and truly on the radar.)
A hundred years ago when I was a reporter on the Newcastle paper, working afternoon shifts, two buddies and I would make the dawn drive up the coast whenever conditions looked good, and surf the rights at Seal Rocks on a southerly or the A-frame beachies at Treachery on a northerly, often by ourselves midweek. A 90-minute drive each way (no speed cameras back then) and worth every second of it. We’d surf our brains out, grab a pie at Buladelah on the way back and be dripping saltwater over our typewriters by 2pm.
The other day I shared the point with a few hundred soft-tops and SUPs, but it was still fun to finish a wave and flick out looking at virgin coastline as far as you could see to the north. Apart from Tea Tree and Granite, there aren’t too many places where you can still do that on our East Coast.
Another highlight of the trip south was an overnight dash down to Bellambi Point in the Greater ‘Gong, one of my home beaches when I was learning to surf in the ’60s, and where I left my two front teeth embedded in the outer wall of the rock pool (the pool is still there, my teeth aren’t!). Two fun sessions at the point – even ran into a couple of old relics from back in the day – punctuated by a splendid seafood lunch and a glass of crisp white while looking out over Wollongong Harbour.
Back in Noosa in time for the last hurrah of the Easter swell, and to share a few Sunday morning slides at the park with our mayor. There probably aren’t too many places on the East Coast where you can do that either.
The Hak is back!
Twenty years ago I wrote a book about my friend Jeff Hakman’s successful battle against heroin addiction. The book, called Mr Sunset, was a hit and Hakman and I spent some great times on the road promoting it around the world, and later worked together for years at Quiksilver Europe’s headquarters in France.
A surf hero since he won the inaugural Duke Kahanamoku Invitational in big waves at Sunset Beach in 1965, aged just 17, Jeff was arguably the best surfer in the world in 1970-’72, just ahead of the rise of Michael Peterson. He won the Pipe Masters and became the first non-Australian to win the Bells Beach Pro in 1976. Later in life he also competed successfully as a longboarder, but after he got the monkey off his back in the late ’90s, he started to drift away from surfing.
Last week in Sydney we had dinner with his former wife Cherie, who informed us that Jeff was back living on K’auai, was on neighbour Felipe Pomar’s “Surf to 100” fitness program, and was riding big waves again at 68. As if by magic, an incredible Larry Gerky photo of Hakman shredding a solid Hanalei wall on a 10-foot 7-inch Terry Chun gun just a few days ago appeared on social media within hours.
I was so stoked to see a mate back doing what he does best.
FOOTNOTE: She’s probably too modest to note this elsewhere, but this issue marks the end of editor Jolene Ogle’s four-year tenure as editor of the NT, during which she’s kept these pages vibrant and interesting. It’s been a pleasure to work with this young lady, and I plan to have a beer with her right about … now.
