Innholdsfortegnelse for # 19 i White Horses

WE’VE BEEN HERE FIVE MINUTES SO IT’S SILLY TO STRUT AROUND LIKE PEACOCKS OR THROW OUR TOYS OUT OF THE COT WHEN HUEY DOESN’T S END EVERY SET WAVE OUR WAY G’day and welcome to issue 19 – Heartlands – a special theme edition of White Horses. As all but the most casual reader probably knows, Horsies alternates between regular and theme issues – it’s a way to keep the mag continually refreshing itself. This theme issue – a triptych-style character sketch of three iconic Australian breaks – is possibly one of the more conventional theme issues we’ve done. Compared with Winterfell, Equinox, or Conversations, this issue operates in fairly familiar Surf Mag territory. Despite, or perhaps because of this, it’s been the most ethically challenging issue we’ve put together –…

In my mind, David Plaisted was probably the first to find waves at The Bluff. He was up rustling feral goats at Quobba Station in 1974. He came across The Bluff. It was six foot and pumping and he didn’t have a board. He kept the discovery quiet and returned the following year, better prepared. I first made the trip up to The Bluff in 1977, with my brothers Michael and Johnny, and John Malloy. There were only a few blokes there, so we had the waves pretty much to ourselves. Trevor Anderson … Craig Howe from Kalbarri, they were up there surfing. Johnny Malloy was up north working on the Dampier railway line and would sneak down for some surf. Camping was awkward. There was nothing up there –…

One early event that stands out in my memory was the Burleigh Festival of Boards, sponsored by Edinburgh Cigarettes. It was the first time I remember anyone being paid to go surfing. Gallaher International got us to put “Edinburgh Cigarettes” stickers on our boards. We had t-shirts too, there were posters, the works. I never smoked, but they used to give us packs of cigarettes. Like, 200 packs of cigarettes! And we used to sell them. That was the only way that we could earn anything. They used to give them away to the ones that had their sponsorship stickers on their boards. So, that was the first paid surf event I can remember that any of us locals were in where they actually gave you something for just turning…

I got the chance to surf in the 1980 Stubbies because I had been hassling the contest organisers for the previous two years to invite local surfers into the event. Then one day event organiser Bill Bolman gave me the call and basically told me to put my money where my mouth was. I was in. Every morning of the contest, I’d set out early from home and walk on my own along the beach and down to the Point, with the only surfboard that I owned. I surfed that board through the trials and won them, and then I surfed it through the main event and I won that too. I’ll always be grateful to Greg Melhuish for that epic Sky Twinny, and to Gordon Merchant of Billabong for…

The waves were just firing one day at the Point. There was a Japanese surfer who was stuck in the rocks. His leggie was wrapped around a rock and he was getting hammered. I just wanted to go surfing, but I knew I had to help him. So I ran down and said, “Are you alright mate? I’m gunna help you.” And as I say that, I slip and knock myself out on the rocks. I hit my head and I was gone. Last thing I remember was saying, “I’m gunna help you”. I come to and somehow I’m back up on the track. I’ve got a broken nose and a split eye. I look up and there’s the Japanese guy. I went to save the fucker, and…

Could you have a more respected person than Midget Farrelly championing your surfing? The call came late one night and I could tell straight away that Midget was on a roll. A few pleasantries and he ripped in, “OK, Bruce, who was the first person you ever saw go vertical on a wave?” My reply was quick, “Wayne Lynch.” “No,” Midget insisted, “Think about it carefully, who was the FIRST guy you EVER saw do it?” “I’m sure it was Wayne Lynch at Bells in 1968 when he was surfing in the Juniors.” “No, no, no. Think about it!” There was a pause as Midget waited for me to put the pieces together, when he realised it wasn’t going to happen, he spoke again, “It was Col Smith, at Narrabeen.…

This is Simon Farrer hauling arse on a solid east swell at North Narrabeen. This picture, taken in 1996, was shot from the swimming club side of the lake; interestingly, there are no other surfers in the line-up. Narrabeen used to get like this. The section Farrer is pulling into was the best and heaviest section of the famed left-hander. Sand would square up off the clubhouse and form this makeable closeout for those with the right line, body torque and speed harnessed from the outside peak. Farrer was the king of this section. I got to witness many greats growing up at North Narrabeen, but I would say that Simon Farrer was the most radical, and rode the deepest in the tube. He took what Michael Novakov – the…

I moved to Narrabeen in the mid ’60s and my two younger sons, Rodney and Martin joined the Boardriders. I thought I’d give it a go. I was slow to learn. My kids must have been wincing – here’s their inept father in his late 40s, learning to surf at this hot spot. Falling off, getting in the way, dropping in. I eventually learnt, and after a while Terry Fitzgerald asked if I would go on the committee. I declined at first, but Terry pressed me and I agreed. After a few years they elected me President. Can you imagine a 65-year-old man president of the Boardriders club? Now I’ve got 10-year-olds with boards under their arms saying, “G’day Tom, you going out today?” My leash broke one day at…

It was back in 1991 – as a young builder married mere months to my beautiful wife Josette – that I set off from Perth to undertake my first building contract up in Arnhem Land. Elcho Island. Yolngu Country. Heading towards the Northern Territory I meandered my way along WA’s North West Coast. I drove along the most corrugated, dusty, hot and dry roads imaginable – and eventually got my first glimpse of the Bluff. My work plan allowed for a two day “rest period” before I would need to load building equipment onto a barge in the Northern Territory for delivery to Elcho Island. Needless to say, those two brief days were spent absorbing the North West stretch of coastline. Fast forward a number of years – after living…

Those early days were amazing. I was surfing Margaret River in ’81 and a mate told me – in hushed tones – about a wave up north where you could get tubed and be spat out at the end of the wave. I pretty much jumped in my car there and then and headed up. Red Bluff was pumping when I got there and had my first surf. It was eight foot the next day, and I told myself I’d be sticking around. I was 23 at the time. I was born in Sydney, one of four kids. Dad was a Marine Engineer in Bronte, so we grew up with waves. He relocated for work down to the bayside suburb of Sandringham in Melbourne when I was seven. I remember…

I’m12 years old and have already been surfing Burleigh for years, but I’m a member of North End Boardriders. We’re over for the Straddie Assault and me and this other kid go, “Let’s check out what’s going on over at the Burleigh house!” We turn up, there’s no-one home, and there’s a carton of piss just sittin’ there. I’m like, “We should steal it!” So we sneak inside the house, I grab the carton and I’m thinking, “Yes, let’s get out of here!” Just as I’m leaving, I’m caught by Mick Murphy’s wife, “What are you doing, grommet!” And then right as that happens, I look around – it’s the worst timing ever – Ash “Champ” Humphreys and all them walk in, they’re maggot, coming home from the pub. And…

I lived upstairs in these old flats. Burleigh Boardriders didn’t have a clubhouse. We were all brickies and concreters and carpenters and I said, “Put the clubhouse under my joint, no one lives there.” So we did! We enclosed it, lined it with timber, got in a couple of mixers, got the boys around there on the piss, workin’ away. There you go! Concrete floor’s in, walls are up, boom! There’s ya clubhouse boys! Yeehaa! We put a bar in, but you couldn’t charge money, so we had raffle tickets. A raffle ticket equalled a beer. The cops would try and shut us down. But we told them we were a notfor-profit. The raffle money goes to the club. Ha ha! We had bands out in the backyard. It was…

It’s with much gratitude and a few tears that we dedicate this issue to Noel O’Halloran, who recently passed away. Noel was White Horses’ proofreader for the entirety of the title’s five-year existence so far, but we’d worked with him for well over a decade previous to that – probably 20 years all up. Back in the heyday of Morrison Media – when we published a dozen “Active Lifestyle” titles on anything that whooshed down a wave or a hill or up a track or off a ramp – a tatty plastic folder inscribed “Noel’s Proofing” would sit on the reception desk and be filled with printouts through the day by various editors and designers. This folder would be picked up by a courier at 4.00 pm and driven ’round…

I remember one morning quite vividly. I was down the shops to get a paper with my girl, I’d been brickies labouring all week, and so Saturday was my day off. I’d go down to the bakery and buy some fresh bread, some eggs and the newspapers. Back then the clubbies used to run the event and they’d hessian it all off and make you pay a donation to get into the Point. So I’m walking back through and the contest is all set up. I stopped to talk to someone and one of these clubbies grabbed my girlfriend for a donation. And she’s told him to get fucked. I’ve come running up from behind, and grabbed him and said, “Hey mate, come on mate, ACE it up, you don’t…

Adam was a really good surfer, he won a few contests, and was an enforcer back in the ’80s. If anyone was in trouble, he’d sort it out. He died from a skateboarding accident. It was weird losing him that way. He had a big heart, he was a beautiful guy. He had the big moves and was really good in the barrel. We had several seasons in Hawaii together and he really proved himself over there. The first time he came over was with me and my brother Alan, and we took him out 10-12 foot Sunset. He said he was just going to hang on the inside and we said, “Nah, you’ve gotta come sit out the back”. It wasn’t long before he started charging. By his third…

THE NOISE THAT THEY HEARD WAS THE DOLPHINS CRYING, FOR THEY HAD LOST THEIR DEAR FRIEND When the earth was younger there lived a Gatlay man who was a great fisherman. He fished in the open sea, rarely venturing into the sheltered waters of Tuhbowgule. He was taught by the spirits how to fish with the thighbone of the wallaby sharpened to a razor point at both ends, and a strong line fixed to the middle of the bone. When attached to a small bait-fish and placed in the ‘blue’ water with chopped up cunje and fish gut, he caught the oil-fish (tuna) with great skill, swimming them onto the rocks and then spearing them. When the larger fish swallowed the bait-fish it pulled on the line, causing the bone…

NN Surfriders foundation member John Courtney remembers in 1963 – before the club had formed – Collaroy surfers Nat Young and Henry “Vinne” Vercluest claimed that Collaroy surfers were better than the guys from Northy. “We’ll have it on, one day,” John replied. The claims and counter claims went on for half a year. John was chosen by filmmaker Bob Evans to join a crew including Nat and John Witzig to surf Crescent Head and Angourie. On his return, John made the mistake of writing an English composition about the days they were away. The teacher singled John and Nat out for punishment. Following the trip, Bob Evans realised that North Narrabeen had an excellent nucleus of competitors. He saw that forming boardriders associations had potential to push surfing forward.…

The grommets I grew up with at Narrabeen loved the Point. The Alley was far too hostile, and although the Point was way heavier, surfing there was better than being held under at the Alley or tied to a pole and having a dog’s arse rubbed on your face. The Point provided us with a world of our own – a safe haven of thrills. We’d ride it on every kind of equipment: foamies, boogie boards and fiberglass surfboards. We’d do our best to charge. We were heavily influenced and egged on by the toothless loons from Little Narrabeen and Warriewood who, on the heaviest of days, would slide in from the “Letterbox” lying down on beaten up old foamies. They’d cackle at us from the tube until they were…

I was seven when Dad taught me to surf. I’ve got vivid memories of the swell of ’82 – a 10-foot, all-time East swell. I was too young to go out. I remember waiting in the carpark for Dad. I’ll never forget the amp in the car park that day. It’s stayed with me ever since. Boardriders club contest is a special institution. You don’t necessarily realize at the time what a special collection of surfers have been part of ’em, but in our monthly competitions were, Terry Fitz, Mark Warren, Simon Anderson, Desi and Rob O’Brien, Mac Channon, Greg Black. All these guys are legends of the club. Every time I saw Simon in the early days or even now, he’s got something special. He makes it look so…

When winter’s southerly swells washed the sand from Collaroy to the north corner of Narrabeen, and there was no major rain, the lake’s entrance would close up. This caused all kinds of problems. The lake became putrid as it lost its tidal flow, and the famous sand bank that the lake’s flow created often disappeared, creating a hole where no waves broke at all. Sometimes the locals would try to dig it out. Sometimes the council would drag their massive diggers down to open it, only for it to close back up with the next run of southerly swells. Often during the winter, when the swells and winds were from the south, the Alley Rights would light up on a pushing tide. The powerful swells would peak up on the…

The wintertime surfari up to the wild and wooly North West has been a rite of passage for many a West Oz surfer for nigh on 40 years. Thirdgeneration groms are now getting their share of barrels under the warm winter sun. In her excellent self published book The Bluff – A Piece of Surfing History, author Patsy-Anne Wootten describes the early exploration by fishermen out to the Blowholes (70 clicks south of The Bluff) in 1911. Seventy dozen crayfish were caught but the fishos noted that “due to undersea disturbances, large waves appear without warning!” During the 1960s and early ’70s, it was inevitable that surfers would happen upon the place. Some were on fishing boats and some were poking around on their way back from working in the…

Red Bluff is such a special place for me. I’ve been going there as long as I can remember and many of my best memories – from childhood and also recently – are of The Bluff and surrounding areas. It feels like a second home to me and as soon as I hit the dirt road at the blowholes, I find it hard to wipe the smile off my face. Usually I’ll crack an Emu Export while letting down the tires for the sand. And every time, I’ll think of my mate Mason. Mason Carter (also affectionately known as “Hillbilly” or just “Billy”) and I were best mates since we were micro groms. We shared countless good times, laughs, great waves and also our fair share of mischief along the…

Well, hello there, beloved reader! You must be a completist, or quite the ’orse fan if you’re reading these liner notes after all the yarns that have been on offer in this magazine already. So, if this suspicion is correct and you are, in fact, a fan of the Horse, then that gives me licence to tell you in breathless detail about the trials and tribulations of the three blokes who are putting this mag together. Last time we had this little chat up the back of the mag, Craig Sims, Rob Bain and myself had bought the Horse off our former corporate overlords, packed up the old office, got that last issue out the door, and made a dash for freedom. (Just quickly, speaking of issue 18, apologies to…

Back before groms had cars, and parents were chauffers. All you needed was a Handyman dad (all dads were Handymen back then), some metal angle iron, a few old pushbike wheels and some old inner tubing for a strap. The original Narrabeen groms in front of the old North Narrabeen surf club, 1961 or ’62. Left to right: John Martin, Dennis Kennard, Rick Taber, unknown, Mick Marlin, Frank Hetherington, John Courtney.…

My grandfather built the surf club back in the 1930s. My old man and his three brothers were members, so we grew up in the surf club too. One day there was a club championship on, but my mate was there with a car ready to go surfing. And I wanted to go too. The President of the surf club was there and he said something like, “If you leave now, you can’t come back”. And I said, “Aw, fuck yas, I’m goin!” And that was it. We went up to the McMasters house and started the Boardriders. We used to chain our boards up under Greg Kadats’ house. His parents owned the pool over the road, so lots of boards would be kept there. The lifesaving clubs were losing…

WE’D LOSE OUR BELONGINGS BECAUSE WE CARRIED THEM AROUND IN GARBA GEBAGS, PEOPLE WOULD THROW THEM AWAY We were living in London and my daughter India was very ill from asthma, so a doctor recommended “The Fairbridge Society”, which organised single mothers to reach Australia while guaranteeing them a job at a children’s home where they would live with their kids. But when we got to Perth, my children were made wards of the state, and I was left alone with no employment. I needed money, so I entered a strip competition and I won. I got a thousand dollars and I came up with a plan to kidnap my children. I told the Fairbridge Society I was taking them for Easter holiday and arranged for them to be dropped…

I owe so much to my brother Vaughan. He introduced me to the ocean. I was on a bodyboard and I’d tag along and follow Vaughan out to the Point. He used to fade me pretty much every wave along with the rest of the lads out there, so I had no choice but to get to my feet. From there on in I used to surf with Vaughan every morning, and more than anything his surfing insight was second to none; he wasn’t just my brother and my best mate, but probably the best surfer I watched and surfed with growing up. I loved his style and the way he approached the wave, and more than anything, his spark. When Vaughan passed away, a skywriter plane wrote “One in…

ONE OF THE BOYS HAD PHOTOS OF THE JUMP-OFF TAPED TO HIS TOILET DOOR SO HE COULD MEMORISE THE ROCK SEQUENCE Burleigh is so reliant on sand that if the banks aren’t lined up properly or they’ve shifted out after a big swell, a visitor could be forgiven for wondering what the fuss is all about. On the other hand, if the banks have settled over Winter and Spring you’ll be treated to a ’roided-up version of the Superbank, similar to the setup that graced us this previous Summer and Autumn. One thing’s for sure, Burleigh always changes. On the south side of the headland, Tally Creek is the go-to paddle-out spot when it’s over six foot, or the sweep is in Grand Rapids mode. There’s an unmarked path that…

This was the first real day of the TC Winston swell. It was still sorting itself out. There was a lot of double-ups as there were probably waves of different periods arriving at the same time. I’d been paddling around with no luck and it was about time to go in. This one came through off the corner of the Cove and it was actually a really easy roll-in. Once I got to the bottom I realised I was actually on the wave behind, and as it caught up to the wave in front, they combined to make this beast of a thing. I just started to pump – more for survival than anything – the rail and channels engaged and it felt like I could give the board…

Historical myths might start as innocent mistakes but can easily become “fact”. One myth is that the entrance to Narrabeen Lagoon was once wide and deep enough to permit the entry of small coastal steamers travelling between Sydney and Broken Bay. The myth first appeared in a brochure called Narrabeen Head that was produced for the Warringah Bicentennial Coastal Walk. It stated, “In the early 1900s the lagoon was more like a coastal river. Its ocean entrance extended further southwards and was about 150m wide and 10m deep. Small steamboats, which could not carry much coal, would stop on their travels between Sydney and Gosford. A trip up the mouth of the lagoon to the local wharf – close to where Pittwater Rd bridge now stands – would enable them…

As a 12-year-old Warriewood grom, the Alley was something I dreamt of surfing one day. I would bypass Northy, riding my bike six blocks up to a mate’s place at Collaroy. We’d hone our skills on foamy shorebreaks. I was a rapt spectator whenever the Alley was working because the best surfers in the World (in my eyes) would be hanging there in the carpark, or taking in the sun post-surf as it reflected off the surf club’s northern wall. John Payne, Owen Pilon, Fred Lister, Bob Pike… the older guys ruled on big days. They were impressive, hard working men too. Living their lives with integrity. The concrete wall of the surf club hosted a melting pot of ideas. Nowhere was there a more diverse, hardcore, knowledgeable crew than…

For us waist high groms growing up at Northy there was a little novelty left in the corner called Little Grajagan. It was great but if we got sucked out too far on the Alley Rights the guys would give us heaps. We knew we weren’t allowed to go out too far on the Alley Rights so we’d sneak out onto The Point when it was small. We slowly surfed it bigger and bigger and that became our little haven, until it got good and the older guys would come out and show us how it’s done. The Point’s a sucky tube, best on an offshore wind and east-to-north-east swell, mid-to-high tide and better when there’s a bit of sand built up through the Mountains area at the back of…

North Narrabeen Primary: 1979, Grade three. There were a few kids infatuated with surfing in the class and our spark of a substitute English teacher knew this. She told us about her mum surfing with the Duke at Freshwater: none of us knew what she was talking about. Then she told us some history about Narrabeen, how, before the area had a name, an Aboriginal girl called Narrabeen saved a family from a fire by swimming across the lake to get help. This struck a chord with me as I was in the throes of beginning a lifetime love affair with Narrabeen Lake. On my first crossing of the lake’s entrance I cut my feet on the oyster shells that litter the northern side. In following times – not realising…

In Easter 2007, 19-year-old Geraldton Surfer Tom Goddard was diving just offshore from the Cave – looking for lost lures – when he found the pistol. Tom initially saw the glint of something shiny in a hole on a ledge. It wasn’t a lure, but a brass bullet cartridge. Closer inspection revealed a seemingly intact pistol. Tom picked up as much of the gun that wasn’t embedded in the rock, including four bullets, and told the crew of his find. Turns out this pistol had been there on the reef for a while – almost 70 years in fact, and its a memento of the time The Bluff and the Second World War crossed paths in a pretty radical way. There’s been some hassling in the lineup over the years,…

I’d have been three years old when our family camped here for six months, so whenever I think about The Bluff, or whenever I’m up here, I always have this feeling that kind of takes me back to my early childhood. These days not much has changed, except I’m usually heading up with my group of mates chasing swells. I’ve seen plenty of crazy waves go down here at The Bluff. It may not be the heaviest wave in the area but it still offers up some mad pits. It certainly doesn’t have the same level of intensity as Gnaraloo when it’s big – but that joint is one of the scariest waves in the world when it’s doing its thing – there’s been some pretty horrific things go down…