Innholdsfortegnelse for Issue 414 i Surfing World Magazine

The story of Dirrangun is such an important part of all three neighbouring groups within the Clarence Valley of Northern NSW, the language groups of the Gumbayngirr, Bundjalung and Yaegl people. Dirrangun was a special old woman and she is still here, she is a part of the land wadyarr and the sea aagal. A long time ago in our Dreaming, Ngarrayaw our ancestors camped along the coast on Yaegl country. In this particular camp ngurha was a family of two young boys as well as their mother and father. The father was Dirrangun’s son. The Dirrangun camped by herself across the estuary and not many people would like to visit her as she was known to be greedy and unkind. It was common that people like the Dirrangun would…

Lenny Collard is holding court. “These wadjelas, they just found out about rising sea levels? Wooooow.” To the Whadjuck Nyoongars – Len’s mob – the wadjelas are the whitefellas and they’re about ten thousand years behind on the concept of sea level rise. “The old Nyoongars used to tell stories, and one of the stories was how they used to walk to of Wadjemup. So if you follow the Western science logic of how do they figure out sea level rise and falls, they reckon about seven to 10,000 years ago the sea levels rose, and hence the islands off the coast all got cut off, and they became what they are today.” Wadjemup is known to the wadjelas today as Rottnest Island, named by the Dutch who thought the…

A few years back, by chance, we ran into Dion Agius one afternoon at Dark Hollow. While it might sound like an outer suburb of Middle Earth, Dark Hollow is actually a beachbreak just up the road from Dion’s place in north-east Tasmania. We didn’t know it at the time, but Dion had moved back to his native island home earlier that year. We looked down the beach and saw a diminutive goofyfooter throwing raw-boned forehand airs. The surfing looked familiar. “Is that… nah, it couldn’t be.” It was. Dion and his family left Tassie when he was 14 for the warmth of the Gold Coast, but in recent years Tassie has been calling him back. As soon as he moved home, the island started weaving its magic on him.…

Timing, they say, is everything. So what better time to release a surf travel movie, than during a time when surf travel – the kind that involves a passport and a plane at least – is impossible. Ishka Folkwell shot the last sequences of the Lost Track Atlantic series in the days before Europe’s borders slammed shut and the world ground to a halt. He packed up his gear and bailed home for the impending birth of his first child. His travel buddy, Torren Martyn meanwhile stayed in Morocco with girlfriend Aiyana, eventually being forced to abandon their van and scramble onto one of the last flights back home to Australia. The old Byron schoolmates had just spent four months travelling around Europe and North Africa, filming for what would…

This past Christmas my eight-year-old daughter figured out that Santa Claus wasn’t real. “Is Santa Claus really just everyone’s parents?” she asked, suspicious after a school friend boysplained. Somehow though, she remains convinced that mermaids are real. After a flurry of recent googling she posted notes onto her bedroom bulletin board: “Are mermaids real?” one card asks. Another card answers: “Yes, they have to be.” Another card features a sketch of the world with an arrow pointing to Australia. A detailed drawing of Mako Island follows – she’s a devoted Mako Mermaids fan. Another card declares: “My goal is to take a picture of a mermaid.” I do not hail from Australia, but I like to fancy myself a mermaid when I swim with my camera. I’m most fond of…

With a rollercoaster of pandemic lockdown protocols still in place here on Bali, it’s easy to lose track of what is precisely happening, precisely where. Beaches and businesses open and close like the locks of the Panama Canal. With a restaurant and club curfew currently set at “around 9pm”, the omnipresent Bali surfer parties have been driven deep underground. Yet a universe of new-normal gatherings have evolved. And with them, a collective attitude of clandestine island celebration. Covid as a boon to enjoy the way it was with less people around. Particularly with the chosen few who have either had no choice but to stick around or those who have had the guts to be here all along. And with South Bali’s economy totally dependent on tourism, it is no…

Dane Reynolds is the world’s best power surfer. You could chuck a “still” in that sentence if you feel the need but it’s a moot point. The 35-year-old father of three completely atomises lips. His bottom turns leave great cascading ravines in their wake and he destroys open wave face like a rocket-fuelled Mr Plow crashing full speed into a snowcone stand. It’s primal and brutal and beautiful and like all great power surfing [see Occy] absolutely timeless. But it’s not just Reynolds’ surfing that keeps us enthralled. To many, the Great Californian Hope who turned his back on the WSL, the big corporate sponsorship dollars, the surf media and five decades of unrelenting industry growth, stands for something that surfing lost along the way. It’s rebelliousness? It’s essence? It’s…

“There were waves out there that would make you quit surfing if you could ride them. Done.”—Laurie Towner LT (LAURIE TOWNER) On the first big day, the Friday, I was stoked how I went, taking some big drops, but I went home on the Sunday thinking I hadn’t found what I was looking for. We rocked up the next morning and Dan got off the boat and paddled into a sick one straightaway, got drained all the way down the point. It was still huge obviously and I questioned myself, is an 8’2” too small? Dan was so psyched on his wave he said, “You wanna use this board?” My big boards were 7’10” and 8’2” and that was all I had. I kind a put a stress crease in…

We came over from England in 1961. I was 17. We left from Tilbury docks in England and landed in Melbourne and I remember driving around thinking how clean and bright this place was compared to where we’d come from. I got an 11-foot Tony Olsen plywood board and started surfing in Port Philip Bay. We didn’t know about this other world down the coast, but soon started driving down to Torquay on a Friday night then driving back Sunday night. Then one time I didn’t go back. I started making surfboards with Fred Pyke, and two years later Rip Curl offered me a job making their boards at the old Boston Road bakery. It was an incredible time down here. Nobody in the water and I just loved making…

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Best day of the year coincides with local boardriders club championship round. What are the chances? No one from Torquay Boardriders could confirm nor deny whether their club championship round held at Bells on Saturday May 1 was good luck rather than good scheduling, but the result remains… possibly the greatest club round in Australian boardriding history. The previous day had seen a big, raw-boned swell hit Bells. It was 10-to-12 foot but wobbly and wild. But Saturday was always going to be the day. Overnight the wind swung offshore, and at dawn Saturday morning Bells was eight-to-10 and lined up as far as you could see in each direction. Winki was also firing – it was maybe better – but it…

Boy, They’re telling me now it could be Tuesday, or maybe Thursday. No-one actually seems to know. There’s a lot of moving parts, as I guess you understand. These things are never clear-cut. They’re waiting on the senior guy to read all the reports and make a decision about how to approach it. Or at least that’s what they tell me, but I think their main concern is keeping me calm. We all know the other options have dried up and this is all that’s left. I’m resigned to it now, whatever happens. I’m at peace. Does that surprise you? Peace aside, I’m sick of the bed, the antiseptic smell. The monotony of it, staff going up and down the corridors. They never turn the lights off in these places.…

Leif never saw the truck. The truck never saw him. He was riding his bike west across the Nullarbor and was about 70 kays past the Caiguna Roadhouse when he was hit. It was just after 9.30 in the morning. He didn’t stand a chance. A couple of kays back, the 21-year-old had seen a car parked at a rest stop and asked them for water. Leif travelled light. The crew in the car were cyclists who’d actually ridden across the Nullarbor before and were surprised to see this young guy out there alone, but after talking with him they figured he was okay. Leif had an assured way about him. They gave him some water and muesli bars and tooted as they drove off. An hour earlier he’d stopped…