By Phil Jarratt
Last Sunday’s Cuervo Longboard Classic at the Surf Ranch had a few interesting moments, but mainly it served to further demonstrate just how far the World Surf League has strayed from its original purpose into a lifestyle content provider, and not a particularly good one.
Admittedly, pro surfing’s governing body and owner didn’t have too many options open to it, once the departure gates all closed on international travel soon after the completion of the last big WSL longboard event, the Noosa Open, and the entire 2020 pro season went out the window. But clearly there is a limit to how many previous season “highlights” packages you can watch, and somehow, for me at least, being shown around Shane Dorian’s temporary house in San Clemente as entertainment isn’t cutting it either.
So the Cuervo Classic was designed not so much as a real test of longboard skills on the sometimes difficult Slater model artificial wave, but more as a lifestyle exposition of those cute kids and funky old dudes who like the slide, seen against the exotic backdrop of floodlights sending shards of silver across the otherwise featureless Central Valley dustbowl of California. Representing the old dudes in the male division, we had reigning Noosa champ Joel Tudor, Hawaii’s Kai Sallas, hipster rock star Alex Knost, and current world champ, chunky Justin Quintal, who looks older than he is. Representing the here and now we had Kaniela Stewart from Hawaii and California’s Kevy Skvarna.
On the female side of the ledger, good ole Kassia Meador took the seniors’ gold watch, just ahead of Professor Lindsay Steinriede, with Honno Blomfield and Soleil Errico representing the now and Avalon Gall and Kelis Kaleopaa the future.
Very good surfers all, some past their best, others not quite there yet. But sorry WSL, longboarding in the tank just isn’t doing it for me, particularly when you’re looking at surfers who never wear legropes trying to make it look natural. And I know that commissioner Devon Howard, looking positively spiffing in a Covid bushranger/hipster beard, had tweaked the settings to make the barrel section more compatible with a mal, but it just wasn’t exciting, and the lifestyle cutaways were often excruciating.
And then came the night. Honestly, I’ve been to the Surf Ranch and looked in every direction and it is not pretty, but somehow under lights the whole thing became surreal. Even Chunky Quintal’s backside barrel looked elegant, almost magical. Some of the green-tinged still photos don’t do it justice, and it was never going to match the night vista of Yeppoon’s Surf Lakes – more about that in coming weeks – but it was something else. Compare the female forms of Surf Ranch and Surf Lakes and make your own judgement.
Suggestion for WSL management: Run all Surf Ranch events at night, get rid of all the reality show lame crap and just run expert commentary while the machine reloads. Oh, if you’re interested in the meaningless results, Soleil Errico beat archrival Honno Blomfield in the women’s, Chunky beat Kevy in the men’s goofy foot showdown.
Trashing our treasure
Last Saturday night, while we were all sleeping off Brisbane’s loss in the AFL, a couple of large groups of party animals (perhaps just animals might be more appropriate) were spending the wee small hours noisily drinking themselves into oblivion on the beach at Little Cove and inside the National Park at Nationals and Tea Tree.
We know this because residents complained and the police were called to move them on. Apparently no arrests were made or charges laid – just a bit of Covid-induced craziness perhaps – but first light revealed a sorry trail of litter and broken glass extending from the outer bays almost into town.
My first question is what the hell is the matter with these people? Apart from the obvious resident and visitor benefits of having the most prized national park asset in the state on our doorstep, the NNP creates wealth for our community at a multiplier of 6.3 for every dollar spent on its management. Elsewhere in this week’s issue, Sunshine Beach’s Professor Richard Brown outlines the considerable economic benefit shown by a recent study.
My second question is who had to bear the responsibility for cleaning it up? Unconfirmed reports suggest that council flicked it to Parks and Wildlife who passed it on because it was mostly at the waterline. The Noosa Heads surf club patrol, who made the discoveries on their early Wave Runner tour of the bays, were too busy saving lives, and the police simply don’t do that sort of thing. Of course it should have been the offenders who were forced to clean it up, but apparently that bird had flown.
While the park officially opens only during daylight hours, no one wants to see it looking like a prison. But no one wants to see it trashed by visitors either.
