To be honest, after the wild excitement of the previous weekend’s Wrecks and Relics surf comp for the over 50s and so on up to over 80s, I found it a tad difficult to settle back into the humdrum carryings on of professional surfing’s world championship tour.
Okay, a huge Yago Dora punt above the lip or a Molly Picklum roundhouse cuttie or a silky Ethan Ewing floater can be compelling viewing, but not if you just spent the previous weekend watching Big Wave Bob’s masterful lying down bottom turn in the over 80s, or Lynette the Kurranulla Wahine’s barrel squat in the Gaffa Tape Invitational, both moves doubly impressive when you consider the advanced age of the athletes and the miniscule height of the waves.
But, in the interest of bringing all the news that’s fit to print to senior surfers who have neither a computer nor a Foxtel subscription, your humble correspondent got out of bed in the freezing predawn, chucked a Rip Curl hoodie over his plaid pajamas, went downstairs in the dark, put on a coffee and switched on the Lexus Trestles Pro, event number eight in a season of 11 before we get to the meat of the matter, the final five playoffs at one of my favourite breaks in the world, Cloudbreak in Fiji. Of course, the legendary left-hand reef break is no country for old men, but back in the day I loved my sessions there, up to about head high and a bit, or what the WSL would call “barely contestable”.
Lower Trestles, wedged between what used to be President Nixon’s Western White House and the San Onofre nuclear silos, is not exactly my cup of tea, and never was. Even when I lived just up the road I rarely surfed there, it being about a Tea Tree-length walk in for a crowded A-frame of nothing like the same charm. But for some strange Californian reason, it’s been the final five host these past few years, until this year when it was trimmed back to a standard tour event.
So what happened, I hear you ask. Well, bugger-all compared with the Wrecks at Access 10, but briefly, Brazil’s Yago Dora gave a masterclass in above-the-lip aerial antics, dispatching our Ethan Ewing, San Clemente homeboy Griff Colapinto and Japan’s world citizen Kanoa Igarashi on his way to winning his second event of the season. All of these opponents are currently top 10 with world title written on their foreheads, but they couldn’t get near Yago who now sits in number two going into his pet event in Saquarema, with a real shot at the title.
In the women’s, our Molly Picklum went nearly perfect score to take out the reigning world champ Caity Simmers in the semis, but Pickles was no match in the final for Hawaii’s Betty Lou Sakura-Johnson, who is also now a contender.
Look, Trestles had its moments, but next week in Brazil I think I’ll be prioritizing my beauty sleep and reporting from the highlights edit at a sensible hour.
Vale Beach Boy Brian Wilson
Since hearing the sad news of the passing of Beach Boys co-founder and musical genius Brian Wilson a week ago, my favourites of his compositions, God Only Knows and Heroes and Villains have been on constant rotation on my Spotify.
Of course it came as no great surprise that the troubled maestro had finally left the studio at 82, but the feeling of loss was profound nonetheless. As a friend in California emailed me that morning, “He wrote the soundtrack of our lives”. Attached to this message, sent to several friends in Noosa, was the most magnificent all-star tribute version of God Only Knows, produced by BBC Music 10 years ago in readiness. I’d never heard it before and was astonished to find that it had 10 million views. If you’re a fan of Brian Wilson’s catalogue of brilliant contributions to the music of our times, seek it out on YouTube. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.
As a young grom in the Gong, I was a fan of the Beach Boys right since the get-go in 1962 with Surfin’ Safari, their first album, with repeated plays on the family turntable getting me through the Cuban Missile Crisis. Surfin’ USA later became my favourite Beach Boys song, until surpassed by the brilliantly moody Surfer Girl, and I remained a huge fan through the Pet Sounds era. But then the Stones and psychedelia took over my playlist.
I remained enough of a fan, however, to jump in my 1960 Beetle as soon as my shift at the paper finished and fang down the highway to catch the band (for the first and only time) playing live at Wonderland in Bellambi, scene of many of the rites of passage of my youth. I had no idea who was in the lineup that night, but Brian Wilson wasn’t, having already been confined to the studio by his many demons. It was a good concert if not a great one, but missing out on Brian remains a bitter disappointment.
Clearly it was a difficult life, for Brian and those who loved him, but an inspiring one, and his musical brilliance will never be forgotten.
