Innholdsfortegnelse for Issue 415 i Surfing World Magazine

This is Quandamooka country, which is made up of three clans: Nunagal, Goenbal and Ngugi. At the time the whitefellas arrived on Stradbroke they say there was about 300 Nunagal people living on the island and maybe 80 Ngugi. Minjerribah means “land of mosquitoes” in one language, but we have three tribal groups here and seven language groups. Originally it was thought our people had been on the island 21,000 years, but last year they found two midden sites and dated one at 40,000 and the other at 65,000. Those sites are all over the island, although the mines have done a lot of damage and the early Europeans would dig them up and burn the shell for concrete. These middens are all around the coast and even through the…

The family trip had been a long-held dream, and like most crew who’ve done it, came about when Laurie and wife, Bron ran out of reasons not to. “The kids are a perfect age, to start,” says Laurie. “Chase starts kindy next year and Isla’s in grade one, so they’re young enough not to miss the schooling, but old enough to remember everything we do.” In terms of work, Laurie was between jobs. He’s spent the past seven years tiling, but was just starting a new, freestyling design role with good mate, Ryan Scanlon at Needs. The other part of the role is Laurie being Laurie, chasing surf. When he pitched the idea of the family trip to Scanno, he replied, “Well, what are you doing next year?” It was…

Tahlija Redgard had a feeling something was wrong. On a stormy, overcast day at Iluka, she watched her partner, Australian surfing icon Mick Campbell huck himself into the trough of an ugly eight-foot tube. When it detonated and he failed to emerge, she knew something was wrong. For five minutes, Tahlija scanned the beach. Still nothing. Then she saw it… Mick’s board floating in the rip next to the breakwall. “I just knew,” she recalls. “I paddled as fast as I could.” Next to the board was Mick, unconscious, eyes open, blue in the face and foaming at the mouth. “Dead,” says Tahlija. His board had whacked him on the jaw and on both temples, knocking him out. He’d already sunk to the bottom and filled with water before resurfacing.…

This time, instead of a full-page comic featuring a dope-smoking pig, it was a sketch of a headland. I can close my eyes at any time, night or day, and see the shape of that headland. I know this to be a common experience for many surfers. We all see coastal landscapes, not in our dreams, but actually inside ourselves. The landscapes engrave themselves into us. This one is part of me, or rather, I feel a part of it. I try to think about what I see in the sketch, what it tells me. The headland is sloped away, like the volcanic ridge of Diamond Head when seen from Waikiki in Hawaii, but like Diamond Head it shows this face from only one angle. From others, it takes on…

A surfer’s life in Tasmania usually involves getting not just in the water, but on it as well. Boats are to Tasmanians what Vespas are to Romans. Mat Tildesley from the bucolic East Coast is no exception. He uses his dinghy to reach outer island slabs in the depths of winter. He waits for the sun to set, then swims out with a mate to create unique photographs of waves, lit from underneath the water by a large studio flash. When prompted for an interview, Mat suggested he call me at 3am Tassie time, which translated to 6pm for me, currently in self-isolation in a small Ibis hotel room with a view of the Wembley Stadium carpark. – JON FRANK SW So where were you at 3am? Ah, I slept…

“You don’t even know how accurate that is,” says slab-conquering madman Justen “Jughead” Allport, whose daughters grew up surfing alongside Molly in the NSW Central Coast village of Shelley Beach. “She is one of the most competitive people you’ll ever meet, and she does not like hearing that somebody is better than her. Ever. That’s what drives her.” Jug recalls first seeing pint-sized Molly light up the touch footy field as an 11-year-old. “Incredible. Just gifted at whatever she tried. And what was obvious right from the get-go was that she backed herself. She had a bit of arrogance, but it wasn’t annoying arrogance. Like when she was playing footy, everyone would be screaming for her to pass the ball, and she’d tuck it under the wing and shoot through…

A bit of local folklore. Back maybe 20 years, a local diver was exploring around Latitude Rock, just off Cape Hawke. He swam into an undersea cave and was confronted, to his great surprise, by a large great white shark. The creature was dead, somehow caught in there and drowned. Pub versions of this story in years ahead however had the shark sporting a bullet hole between the eyes. The shark was eventually towed back into town, where it was taken to the Tuncurry fish co-op. News of the shark quickly spread and the co-op was soon abuzz with curious locals, keen to get a look at the beast from the deep. Traffic backed up and the local coppers walked up and down the street handing out parking fines. Just…

I’ve always loved abandoned and derelict buildings. Just all those questions, you know. Who lived here last? Why did they leave? Where did they go? There are traces of them still there; you’re just looking for clues. The eerie charm of finding these places. The sense that their human occupants have only just left. I’ll often pull over on the side of the road and check out old buildings. Abandoned farmhouses, industrial buildings. I’ve been through derelict schools and psych hospitals. All graffitied and smashed up. I’ve never seen a place like this though. Back roads hugged by tall ghost gums. Back from the coast, in farmland. Old wooden shed with corrugated iron walls and roof, the whole thing leaning a few degrees. It’s shifted off the footings. The trees…

David “Baddy” Treloar stands there, larger than life, hand outstretched. In a slightly squeaky voice he introduces himself, “Hello, I’m David.” It was our first official meeting. I’d surfed Angourie point a couple of times and watched him direct traffic out there. He seemed a gentle soul but had this no-bullshit directness that could whip your words or deeds in the right direction at any time. He reminded me of Wayne Lynch, my mate for 35 years and a mentor through many parts of my life. Tough on your bullshit but offering deep sincerity with your good shit. It was Easter, and Baddy had put the fishing rod in the rack and jumped a plane to Melbourne to watch his beloved stepson Dan Ross compete at Bells for the first…

We live in precedented times. Almost two years into the time of corona and we’re still here. The days have dragged on and the years flown by. It feels like every second day now is bin day and I could drive to my local reef, blindfolded. There might be light at the end of the tunnel, but man, this thing is really starting to send us a little crackers. People are losing their bearings and it’s a struggle to work out which way is forward. There’s some bad craziness taking hold. All local reef and no Indo boat trip makes Jack a dull boy. To be honest, when we got locked down hard here in Vicco last year, part of me couldn’t have been happier. Corona was hardly the Black…

Since then, Heath has spent the best part of two years at home on his property outside Streaky Bay, but it hasn’t been lost time. He’s taken the opportunity to work the land. The old sandy, stony sheep run he bought five years ago badly needed some love. Heath’s good mate Addy Jones came over, and with a borrowed earth mover they’ve been busy cutting swales in the hillside, contouring it to hold water, ready for tree planting and the spring rains. The Joske’s property is already coming back to life, but it’s a long-term investment. It’s a family thing. Heath’s folks did the same thing with their North Coast property four decades ago. Reflecting on it today, Heath sees the Bight campaign as a huge win for collective action.…

Early last year, Brooke Farris lay on her back in the bush in northern Tasmania. She was in agony: she’d come off a mountain bike in the hills of Derby and compound-fractured her fibula. Her ankle was dislocated, her leg mangled, and although she had friends with her the rescue chopper was over four hours away. When the ambos arrived, they rearranged the leg as best they could, medicated her and choppered her out of Burnie. But when the bird landed in Launceston, interstate relations soured. Brooke asked to have the necessary surgery in Melbourne, “so they pretty much kicked me out on the street. I had to book myself into a hotel in Melbourne with a backslab on the leg.” The point of the story is what those four…

Luke is back home on the NSW Central Coast with his wife and young daughter, having moved back from New York early last year. He’s come a long way. Luke started his career years ago shooting and art directing bodyboard magazine, Le Boogie, but as print trailed off and his artistic range grew, his photography drifted into more rarefied air. He’s exhibited his photographic work in London, Sydney, Berlin and Miami and – the artistic pinnacle – has been a regular Surfing World contributor for years now. His underwater “InfinityWall” image graced the cover a few years back. The Maelstrom project started five years ago. “After shooting for other people for years, I just wanted to get back to what I was most passionate about, which was photographing raw, terrifying ocean.…

BB Tell us what your winter’s look liked so far… no swell but good snow? RB Yeah, my partner Caitlin’s parents have had a house outside Jindy since Caitlin was young, so we have been taking advantage of the conditions. It’s been howling offshore and flat here at home. I just did a week down at the snow, had two days at home and now we’re getting back down there tomorrow, which kind of keeps me sane when I’m not surfing or travelling. BB Do you like snowboarding more in the winter than surfing? Nearly. It would have to be a pretty good day of surf at home to get me away from the snow [laughs]. Obviously if Shipsterns or certain waves look good I’ll be going, but yeah… I’d…

Moving to Avalon 10 years ago, Jack was first introduced to bodysurfing bigger swells by a local crew, developing a love for righthand reef slabs. Jack and his mates couldn’t find a better way to get all the boys together, regularly bodysurfing reef slabs like Little Avalon. When Jack moved to Manly, the idea of trying to bodysurf Deadman’s planted itself in his head. It’s as crazy as it sounds, although Sydney has form here. The first guys to ever surf Cape Solander – Cape Fear, Ours – were bodysurfers in the late ‘60s. To them it was simply ‘Piker’s Hole’. Surfing Deadman’s usually requires days of preparation followed by truckloads of nerves. Tracking the swell, sifting through gear and the classic self-doubt before the crack of dawn to ensure…