I heard him before I saw him, a raucous, bellowing presence in the lineup last Saturday morning. I looked around quickly, thinking someone must be having a fit or seizure, and there he was – long, straggly hair, tanned and wiry body with a bit of ink here and there. Scary eyes.
There was nothing physically wrong with old mate, he was just venting, paddling furiously from the inside lineup to the outer and back again, giving verbal sprays to anyone who met his eye, including me, basically just spreading joy and good vibes in a crowded, windy lineup.
I paddled for a wave, he paddled across my line, swung around and took off, screaming at me as he stole the wave. I caught the next one, rode it halfway in before I had to check my line to avoid two surfers standing in the shallows beating the crap out of each other. Yep, Happy Straggles had met his match. He’d paddled out at First Point to fight, and someone had obliged him.
As much as I abhor violence in the water (and anywhere else), I kind of hope Straggles came off second best and went in to lick his wounds and never come back. I paddled away too quickly to see if that was how it went, but I didn’t see his smiling face for the rest of my session, and I hope I never see it again.
Apart from that nastiness, it was a pretty mellow crew that I shared the Oma swell with at First Point. Of course, it was busy, and there were plenty of hot internationals in town, but I really enjoyed trading waves with two-times WSL Longboard world champ Taylor Jensen and reigning women’s champ Soleil Errico, among others.
I’ve known Taylor since he was a sulky, skinny teenager sneaking durries on the bow of the boat, but he’s a big unit now, and although he has the build of the Incredible Hulk, he’s still so beautifully light on his feet, effortlessly positioned on every wave he takes. But guess what? He lets a few go too, quite a few, usually with a big smile and a word of encouragement. A pleasure to surf with.
I never got past the old fart zone at First Point, but apparently it wasn’t all sweetness and light out at the Boiling Pot, where Julian and John-John were giving a master class while shooting for Red Bull, jet skis were buzzing the lineup and a couple of hundred frothing hotties were scrambling for every set. “Bit hectic, but pumping!” Mark “Mono” Stewart messaged me between sessions on Friday. We were supposed to catch up for a beer at the surf club, but after three long sessions at the Pot and Tea Tree, all the one-legged adaptive world champ could do was drag himself into the car and drive back to Byron exhausted.
Festival prediction: no sand, plenty of waves
While TC Oma thankfully failed to deliver the record-breaking pounding expected, the combined effect of powerful swell and king tides took Main Beach down to bedrock long before Oma peaked. As I write, it’s too early to tell how much the lack of sand will impact the construction of the Noosa Festival of Surfing’s beach village, but let’s hope that solutions can be found so that the huge international contingent here for the festival and the WSL world tour event get to experience the full ambience of a Noosa Festival with pumping waves at First Point followed by live music and cold beer in the beach bar.
That’s certainly my plan, now that I’m a competitor and spectator, rather than a worried old man with a lanyard around his neck, pacing the beach and praying for surf. And the surf forecast this year looks pretty good.
But first I’ll be leading the opening ceremony paddle-out at First Point on Saturday at 5pm. This year we’ll be remembering two giants of surf festival history who have passed since the last festival. Scott Dillon was a staunch supporter of the festival from its earliest days, usually driving up from Coffs Harbour in his retro Sandman panel van, bling jangling from his sun-soaked neck and wrists, a wicked twinkle in his eye. The legendary big wave rider, surfboard craftsman and much-loved old rascal was a fixture at the festival right up until dementia began to claim him a few years ago.
Former world longboard champion and multiple Australian and Noosa Festival titleholder Wayne Deane was at the other end of the spectrum – a quiet achiever in the surf and the shaping bay, a caring, thinking man, a surfer’s surfer who, in the eyes of many of us who knew him, never achieved the recognition he truly deserved. Nevertheless, Deaney’s trophy cabinet was chocka, and he was inducted into the Surfing Hall of Fame in 2003. Gone too soon, but never forgotten.
The ceremonial paddle-out and blessing of the waters has always been a high point of the festival for me, a celebration of surfing’s indomitable aloha spirit, about a million miles removed from some tosser throwing punches in the lineup. I’m honoured to have been asked by the festival organisers to lead the paddle, it’s open to all comers, and I hope as many as possible will come and share the stoke as we kick-start a great week of surfing.
