By PHIL JARRATT
WHAT a week we’ve just had for pro surfing, with the waves pumping on Oahu and Maui, maybe not so much on Hainan Island in China, but Sunny Coast surfers laying on a rail and putting it all on the line around the world.
Of course the biggest news for locals was Julian Wilson’s stellar form in macking Sunset Beach waves for the Vans World Cup. After smashing every heat on his way to the final, Jules couldn’t find a backup to beat a rampaging Mick Fanning, but his second placing signalled his intent for this week’s Billabong Pipe Masters, where he is the defending champion.
In my opinion Pipe is where Mick Fanning will continue the best form of his career to claim his fourth world title, equalling the great Mark Richards for the most world titles for an Australian man. At 34, Mick will never catch Kelly’s 11, nor is he likely to match Layne Beachley’s seven, but what a fantastic effort from this guy, to come back from the jaws of death (quite literally) and face down the Brazilian Storm with solid rail to rail surfing.
I know, I know … he can be beaten (and I’m writing this before Pipe even starts) but I just don’t think he’s going to be denied this year.
But let’s get back to Julian, who is surfing with such power and authority. Ranked number seven going into Pipe, he was only a mathematical possibility for his first world title, needing everyone else to fall over and break a leg, but another great performance will put him in the conversation for next year. And I can’t help thinking where he would be now, in relation to a title, if things had gone differently at Jeffreys Bay five months ago.
The thing I’ve noticed about Julian in the last couple of seasons is that he now has the firepower to win anywhere. Whether it’s Cloudbreak, Chopes, The Box, Snapper, the beachbreaks of Les Landes or the bowels of a Pipe monster, if he gets to the pointy end of the event, he looks like he owns the place. Witness Sunset last week. That place at triple overhead is full of tricks for young players, but Julian carved off the bottom and snapped off the top like he was born to it, like John John, who was, in fact.
Last July, on the first wave of the final, he looked like he owned J-Bay, but then the excrement hit the overhead cooling appliance, and he had to share the points with Mick. Of course, at the time nothing mattered less. They were both safe, that was all that counted. But it’s interesting to ponder how it might have played out, had Julian taken his first win of the season that fateful day.
Meanwhile on Maui, the girls tour wrapped up with the Target Pro, held in perfect Honolua Bay. I only managed to catch a few of the preliminary heats, but finals day was awesome, with Sally Fitzgibbons pushing Carissa Moore all the way for her third world title. In the end Carissa claimed the crown in the semis, and then went on to steal the event from Sally with a perfect 10.
Sally finished the year in third position, the highest-ranked Australian after another solid year. A world title can’t be far away. But it must seem like a couple of worlds away for Buderim’s Dimity Stoyle, who was bundled out in round two at Honolua and will not requalify for 2016. This is a huge disappointment for Dimity, and for all her many fans, because although she’s been a tour battler, at some points – notably Lower Trestles, where she finished third – she’s really looked the goods in competition.
As I write, the Jeep Longboard World Titles are underway on Hainan Island, China, with Aussies Chelsea Williams in the women’s and defending champ Harley Ingleby in the men’s both looking strong. But Sunny Coaster Nic Jones was a round two elimination in small waves last Sunday, when he fell to Reunion’s Aurelien Meynieux after blowing a potential winning wave right on the hooter. It was Nic’s to win, but nerves got the better of him.
End of the road in Mexico
Dean Lucas and Adam Coleman had a plan when they caught the ferry from the Baja California port of Loreto for the Mexican mainland in late November. The plan was to drive their van south to Guadalajara, pick up Adam’s girlfriend, and drive south again, to the perfect right-hand point breaks that dot the Pacific coast all the way to Guatemala.
The plan went tragically wrong when they were intercepted by a gang of bandidos who shot them both in the head, took everything of value from the van and torched both bodies and vehicle. Just another night of horror in rural Mexico. The evidence suggests the West Australian surfers, both aged 33, had done nothing wrong or foolhardy. They just found themselves on the wrong road at the wrong time.
The tragedy reminded me of our own road trip in Mexico last year, one friends strongly advised against. I ignored the advice because I love Mexico and have only good experiences to report after numerous trips through Baja and the mainland since the 1970s. But there was a moment when we hit the coast road after driving hours through the mountains. A group of men in ragged uniforms pulled us over into a dusty lot. They were smiling so I wound down the window to see what they wanted. A man grunted some words in Spanish and thrust a handful of papers at me. I studied them. They were 20 percent discount vouchers for a cantina in the next town.
Gracias, senor. Adios.
We were on the wrong road, but luckily it was the right time.
