We've experienced been some bizarre cycling injures in the past - broken bone in hand from crashing (and grabbing onto) a chicken wire fence; grain of dirt in the eye so embedded that required a doc to literally scratch it off our eyeball; burnt finger from going "geez that was a bloody steep descent - wonder how hot my disk brakes got...? FUGGGINOUUUUCH!"
Then today riding to work another to add to the list.
"Wasp lands on hand and gets feet stuck in cycling glove soft velcro stick pad thingy, craps itself and stings me like a bastard"
Took 2 or 3 flicks to get the damn thing off he was on that tight. (Which only got him more pissed, and me more stung, off i reckon.)
Christ on a bike... (I'm gunna be whining for my mummy all day.)
Friday, March 23, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Stylin... 1985
This is how cool people went windsurfing in 1985... (note hair and pink T-shirt; how cool was this dude!)A 320cm board.
A "powerhead" (i.e., single batten in the top) sail.
A fin that slid into the board from behind.
A boom that tied (not clamped) onto the...
One piece fibreglass mast.
Oh, and the coolest thing of all? Being driven to the beach in a buzz box Mazda 323, where the gear was longer than the car... by your mum.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Sandy turns it on...
Does it actually get any better than this (umpire)??
Sandy Point, arguably our last child-free trip away until 2024 (see http://bigtum.blogspot.com), and a Monday flex day. Sunshine, warm water, spring suit, 18-24 knots SSW, mid tide... Hey, there ain't no waves, but when it comes to cruisin' it just cant be beat.
Not to mention only 2 others on the pond.
Bliss.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Coronation Beach doomed... ??
When in Geraldton, W.A, we were told that, yet again, a deep water port was planned for Oakajee in order to help export even more of the mineral wealth of Western Australia. Great, but it would also bugger windsurfing north of Gero. And although a lot of people have kinda shrugged it off as "all having been said before", the problem this time is that there actually is a minerals boom that could support it, based largely upon the rapid growth and need for materials in China. And it seems this boom has no end in sight... anyway, deep water port/Oakajee...
Oakajee is pretty much Spot X, a local(s) sailing spot. A port would not only bugger up Spot X, but also ruin the wind and waves at the world famous Coronation Beach, thus making it worthless for windsurfing. Theres lotsa info on the possible impacts at the Geraldton Windsurfing Club web pages.
As a concerned windsurfing citizen, I sent an email letter to the Minister for Planning and Infrastructure, Hon. Alannah MacTiernan. (And so can you... alannah-mactiernan@dpc.wa.gov.au ).
In short I was concerned at the impact upon the coast and windsurfing at Geraldton, and hence upon the local tourist support industry. My letter is at the bottom of this post. I've just received a response (click on the letter to enlarge if you cant read it...) :
Whats interesting are the comments that 1) It will have little effect upon Coro, which is damn hard to believe. Even just one of the massive ships berthed at Oakajee will surely destroy the wind, let alone what the breakwater will do to waves and sand movement (and hence bottom topography and, again, waves), 2) that Spot X is mentioned, which i did not even raise in the email. Clearly this means they know about the fact that this location will be sacrificed and people are not gunna like that, and 3) that they are deferring to the Geraldton Port Authority on this state-based issue. (Like they'd ever want to move away from Gero...?)
I'm far from convinced without seeing the facts. Hopefully we'll hear more. And hopefully more people will be equally concerned enough to write.
My original letter (feel free to use for inspiration) was as follows:
--------------------------------------------------------------------
--
Andrew B. Watkins
windjunky@gmail.com
Oakajee is pretty much Spot X, a local(s) sailing spot. A port would not only bugger up Spot X, but also ruin the wind and waves at the world famous Coronation Beach, thus making it worthless for windsurfing. Theres lotsa info on the possible impacts at the Geraldton Windsurfing Club web pages.
As a concerned windsurfing citizen, I sent an email letter to the Minister for Planning and Infrastructure, Hon. Alannah MacTiernan. (And so can you... alannah-mactiernan@dpc.wa.gov.au ).
In short I was concerned at the impact upon the coast and windsurfing at Geraldton, and hence upon the local tourist support industry. My letter is at the bottom of this post. I've just received a response (click on the letter to enlarge if you cant read it...) :
Whats interesting are the comments that 1) It will have little effect upon Coro, which is damn hard to believe. Even just one of the massive ships berthed at Oakajee will surely destroy the wind, let alone what the breakwater will do to waves and sand movement (and hence bottom topography and, again, waves), 2) that Spot X is mentioned, which i did not even raise in the email. Clearly this means they know about the fact that this location will be sacrificed and people are not gunna like that, and 3) that they are deferring to the Geraldton Port Authority on this state-based issue. (Like they'd ever want to move away from Gero...?)
I'm far from convinced without seeing the facts. Hopefully we'll hear more. And hopefully more people will be equally concerned enough to write.
My original letter (feel free to use for inspiration) was as follows:
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Ms MacTiernan,
Over the summer months i traveled to Geraldton to windsurf at the (world) famous Coronation Beach.
It was with some dismay that i learnt that a deep water port is planned for Oakajee, just upwind of Coronation. If this were to occur, Coronation Beach, it's waves and it's wind would be devastated.
While this may seem small impact given the vast wealth that will be supported by the port, it would have a hugely detrimental impact upon the local tourist industry. Our group alone consisted of over 20 people, all from outside of Geraldton, who had come for the sole reason of windsurfing the near-perfect break that is Coronation Beach. If this were to be spoiled we simply would not be visiting Geraldton at all, but travel elsewhere to sail, possibly not even in W.A. This would be the same for hundreds, if not more, people from interstate and overseas every year, contributing significantly to the livelihoods of a huge number of locals in "Gero".
If the port were to be located somewhere further north on that stretch of coast, not only would the big mining companies maintain their operations, but so would the mum and dad tourism operators, cafes, caravan parks, surf shops etc who rely upon the influx of non-locals every summer. And of course, I could keep my favourite beach in the world.
I hope that you can consider this request.
Kind Regards,
Andrew.
Over the summer months i traveled to Geraldton to windsurf at the (world) famous Coronation Beach.
It was with some dismay that i learnt that a deep water port is planned for Oakajee, just upwind of Coronation. If this were to occur, Coronation Beach, it's waves and it's wind would be devastated.
While this may seem small impact given the vast wealth that will be supported by the port, it would have a hugely detrimental impact upon the local tourist industry. Our group alone consisted of over 20 people, all from outside of Geraldton, who had come for the sole reason of windsurfing the near-perfect break that is Coronation Beach. If this were to be spoiled we simply would not be visiting Geraldton at all, but travel elsewhere to sail, possibly not even in W.A. This would be the same for hundreds, if not more, people from interstate and overseas every year, contributing significantly to the livelihoods of a huge number of locals in "Gero".
If the port were to be located somewhere further north on that stretch of coast, not only would the big mining companies maintain their operations, but so would the mum and dad tourism operators, cafes, caravan parks, surf shops etc who rely upon the influx of non-locals every summer. And of course, I could keep my favourite beach in the world.
I hope that you can consider this request.
Kind Regards,
Andrew.
--
Andrew B. Watkins
windjunky@gmail.com
Saturday, February 17, 2007
windmap
Just discovered a great site locator, with lotsa local info.
Would be even better if we can all contribute.
http://thewindmap.com/
Would be even better if we can all contribute.
http://thewindmap.com/
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Double-ewe-ayy
W.A. Western Australia.
There can be no better place for consistent windsurfing than sandgroper country.
For me this was the fourth trip over on which I sailed, and the second trip to "Gero" - the windy city of Geraldton some 420 km north of Perth. Last time we went it seemed we'd never arrive, having been lumbered with the mazda van of doom, but this time Mistress P put her foot down and we'd gone with a slightly more reputable company, and hence had a van that could actually exceed 80km/h without the assistance of a hill.
We stayed in a cottage just round the corner from last time, in the glorious little enclave that is
Bluff Point, only 80 metres from the waters edge.Sailing, however, was at Coronation Beach, some 25 km up the road from home. "Coro" is famous the world over for its wind and water - flat on the inside and big rolling Indian Ocean swell on the outside. Mostly a jumping spot, but come late afternoon the sharks come out, the wind swings a bit, and theres the chance of a good frontside ride or three. I managed the best down the line ride i have ever had at Coro when two intersecting waves left a little gap between each other that i managed to race up on, squeeze between the low point, and rip a turn back into the face almost immediately, the extra speed pushing me along for a several turn run and a grin wide enough to filter krill.
Of course the trip wouldnt have been the same without breaking something major. In this case, and just like my previous sojourn west, it was my board. On day 2. I was mortified. The thing just went to spooge right infront of the back footstrap. At first i tried ignoring it, but when i landed a jump and the whole thing creaked and cracked like someone breaking kindling I knew we'd entered "possible long swim if you dont stop" territory. I lumbered back into the beach totally dejected. Felt the solft spot. Felt more dejected. Went up to the van and waited or Mr Porridge. I needed a second opinion.
"Whaddya think of this?"
Mr Porridge pressed on the board. It went up and down like a chunky custard. (NB: Boards shouldnt do that.)
"Mate, thats stuffed."
The next day was spent talking to board repairers, shop owners, fellow travellers and generally getting my brain way out of whack for a cruisy holiday. In the end i bit the bullet and just bought a second hand Fanatic Goya Pro Model 81, which i figured that even if i traded it in when i got a new board back home, would still be cheaper than renting for 2 weeks. We'll see how the plan works...
The wind wasnt as kind as last time we were in town, but it still blew well enough to get us out on more days than not, and generally on a 5.0. Of course Murphy's Law meant that the week after we left guys were struggling to hold onto 4.0's. But thats windsurfing - If you worried about perfect conditions every day you'd end up going barmy.
W.A. I love it.
(More piccies on the web....)
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Breakwind to Beacon
Firstly, thanks go to the Joelster for the title... it was incredibly apt.
The annual SHQ Gaastra Breakwater to Beacon , from Sandringham YC out and back to Fawkner Beacon, was greeted by nowhere enough wind for me (or sane people) to sail... errr, and the last remnants of my first hangover in about a zillion years (but thats another story, mostly involving a wine and cheese night that included too much wine, not enough cheese). Hence rather than join in the dog-slog out the 8 or 9 km and back I chose to sling the camera over the shoulder, laze on the beach and take some pics.
This proved to be a winner. As despite first place romping home in about 24 minutes, (and Joelster in about 30) the likes of my good and normally faster-cross-the-water friend, Mr Porridge, wandered home in something best measured in geological time. In fact, as we had a bbq we had to cater for, we left in the hope that he'd turn up eventually/the yacht club had a rescue boat handy. (He did/they didnt.)
Fun and games, shame about the wind. See:
http://picasaweb.google.com/windjunky/BreakwaterToBeacon
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Mad (Mike) Monday
11/12/2006 Ricketts Point - Mad (Mike) Monday - What a session!
For me (see attached pic) it was the first ever serious attempt at backloops, of which I tried several, and once the fear had (at least partially) gone it was an awesome experience. Everyone seemed to be going for it - at times there were almost more bodies in the water than above it!
Highlights included:
- The waves - they were HUGE, and steep.... and hence,
- Numerous backloop attempts from seemingly everyone, with Joel almost pulling off a couple of sail-aways. My over-rotation and subsequent landing on my kermit-the-frog green Zone 4.1 sail - giving it a nice and seemingly permanent knee dimple - actually had me thinking it was possible!
- Silly old me again, thinking i was through the gap in the reef, hitting a wave, taking off, looking down and OHMIGOD!! - almost landing ONTOP of one of the reef navigation sticks! (I think i actually glided over it!)
- Watching Joel swim for his gear 3 (THREE!) separate times after backloop attempts, which were followed by waves washing over him and sending his gear beachward without him - well it made me laugh!
- Listening out for mad Mike and ripped sail - he decided a big tear that would normally end a sane mans session had actually depowered it quite nicely, so he just kept going!! (Hence mad Mike) He must have spent at least 3/4 hour sailing with that bloody hole flapping like a bastard and hence you could hear him a mile off. We think we're going to patent the idea of a velcro pull off in the next line of Severne wave sails....
- and the "THAT WAS FUGGIN AWESOME!" banter when packing up in the gloom.
I don't think anyone wanted it to stop!
The other awesome thing is that Wally outdid himself, and sat freezing in the dunes until he neared an Oates-like Antarctic death, taking 146 photos! (yes, one hundred and forty six!!) Included a stack of keepers, which we've popped on the web - check out the pics at http://picasaweb.google.com/windjunky/MadMikeMonday or by clicking on Mike...
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Epilogue...
A near revenge incident.
Riding in this morning with a howling tail wind (only took me 45:01 home-to-(bike)hook), i was stomping it down the bike path on the low hill past the Dendy St beach entrance, sitting on high 30's kmh and just thinking about the joys of the mountain bike launching ramp which is the big buckled concrete on the path right there ("mmm will i flick out or front land or just sanely roll over?"), when...
WHOOOAAAAWHATTHEFUGGINHELL....!?!?!?!
A red Starboard Acid (90??) board appears RIGHT IN MY PATH as a muppet windsurfer walked out from between the trees - board first - obviously having just had a session at Dendy before work!
I missed the board (just), missed veering off the path onto Beach Rd-peak-hour (barely), and, dammit, missed out on the jump too.
Motto: Never laugh at a windsurfing board (in a bin). They try for revenge.
Riding in this morning with a howling tail wind (only took me 45:01 home-to-(bike)hook), i was stomping it down the bike path on the low hill past the Dendy St beach entrance, sitting on high 30's kmh and just thinking about the joys of the mountain bike launching ramp which is the big buckled concrete on the path right there ("mmm will i flick out or front land or just sanely roll over?"), when...
WHOOOAAAAWHATTHEFUGGINHELL....!?!?!?!
A red Starboard Acid (90??) board appears RIGHT IN MY PATH as a muppet windsurfer walked out from between the trees - board first - obviously having just had a session at Dendy before work!
I missed the board (just), missed veering off the path onto Beach Rd-peak-hour (barely), and, dammit, missed out on the jump too.
Motto: Never laugh at a windsurfing board (in a bin). They try for revenge.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Oscar the grouch
Its not every day that you're riding to work past a big green wheelie bin, and there, plonked inside, is a big blue thing with foam padding insides. No, not Oscar the grouch, but rather an ex-windsurfing board (well, at least 2 halves of one) sans straps.
The last time i saw an AHD up this close was at an AHD demo day on nice flat easy peasy Lake Geneva. (As in Switzerland: dont you hate a namedropper.) Judging by the happy snap, and the boards obvious dislike of choppy old (sm)Elwood beach, maybe thats where it should belong.
(But then again i'm probably still sore that I couldnt get a sail on one cos of some minor Swiss technicality (i.e., my budgie smugglers, harness and wetsuit were in a box 10,000 km away)).
Dig those groovy cycling shades.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Sandy Cup Weekend blast
Another year and another Sandy Point Cup Weekend blast...
This year it was a combination of 2 days on the inlet searching for speed and 2 days out on the waves of Waratah Bay searching for down the line wave rides. Vunderba!
Competed in my first ever wave comp... absolutely no idea how i went, but considering I didnt get nearly drowned out there this time I consider myself a winner(!) Our good friends, fellow W.A travelers, and general young whipper-snappers, Joel and James, managed second and third, so i'll just bask in some reflected glory and leave it at that.
Mistress P managed 3 sails for the weekend, cranking out speed runs (if an old freestyle board can be considered capable of speed) and almost pulling off her first carve gybe. I think the shock of turning the board, flipping the sail and having it hang there read to grab-and-go was too much for her brain to comprehend - she stopped! (Grab it grrl!!!). Now for a girl almost mid term preggas, thats not too bad...
Plenty of friends, (old and new), tons of sailing, lots of chocolate, a smorgasboard of barbeques and a few cleansing ales... Does it get any better than that umpire?
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Dry as a nuns...
October. Melbourne. Mid spring and our equal wettest month of the year with 70-80mm of rain expected.
At our place in Hampton East (the "Beurut end of Hampton") we got 9.0 mm. Total.
Dry as a dead dingoes donga.
At our place in Hampton East (the "Beurut end of Hampton") we got 9.0 mm. Total.
Dry as a dead dingoes donga.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Boys of summer... arrive early
I love sumer. Love love love. It makes me happy.
But summer arriving in October... errr.. that makes me scared!
Earliest post-winter 30 in Sep, followed by earliest post-winter 35 in Oct, records start 1856... Ouch.
But summer arriving in October... errr.. that makes me scared!
Earliest post-winter 30 in Sep, followed by earliest post-winter 35 in Oct, records start 1856... Ouch.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Getting a bit toey...
Live and learn - 2 months on and my big toe is still looking like a Cabernet grape from too thick a sock and too snug a ski boot. AB - its THIN socks; write it 100 times. (Bugger.)
On top of all that, it seems this snow season past was indeed one of the worst in the industry's history, with maximum snow depths of only 20-50cm at most resorts. Hotham was indeed struggling - if you think my toes bad, you should have seen the base of my (thankfully hire) skis. Theres an interesting story on the season in The Age today...
Contender for the 2006 head in the sand award must go to Andrew Ramsay, executive officer of the Australian Ski Areas Association, which represents the ski lift companies, who said it was "absolutely facetious crap" to connect the the disasterous season with climate change. Errr... Andrew.... hello... remember sponsoring a little thing called "keep winter cool"?
On top of all that, it seems this snow season past was indeed one of the worst in the industry's history, with maximum snow depths of only 20-50cm at most resorts. Hotham was indeed struggling - if you think my toes bad, you should have seen the base of my (thankfully hire) skis. Theres an interesting story on the season in The Age today...
Contender for the 2006 head in the sand award must go to Andrew Ramsay, executive officer of the Australian Ski Areas Association, which represents the ski lift companies, who said it was "absolutely facetious crap" to connect the the disasterous season with climate change. Errr... Andrew.... hello... remember sponsoring a little thing called "keep winter cool"?
Monday, October 02, 2006
Tupac
All i wanted was some fish and chips.
Sunday night, tired from a sailing session at Green Point (with my new Combat Wave 5.0; wuvverly), and Mistress P arriving home from a 1-year old barfday party ("Im buggered!"), and all seemed right and dandy for a fish and chippy slap up feed.
"I can't eat flake now (shes preggas) - can you get me some whiting instead?"
No worries my dear.
Head on dow the chippie - which is actually a milk bar run by a nice but grossly overworked asian couple who at first had no idea but now make some of the best fish and chips (and hamburgers) i know of. This side of anywhere.
Walk in the door and out fromthe back walks the lady, scoffing down some dinner of her own.
"I'll have a 2-pack please, and..."
"PACK 2 PACK 2" she barked at me. (A "pack 2" is 2 flake, 2 dim sims, 2 potato cakes and a serve of chips. $10.50 Its not rocket science. Indeed, i always seem to call it a 2-pack, and this upsets her and her husband greatly when i have asked for such in the past.)
me: "Errr.. yes, a pack 2 please, but can one be without flake - whiting instead?"
her: "NO. Pack 2 only flake"
me: "Ok, well can i have a pack 2 with whiting, and i'll pay the difference"
her: "No, pack 2 only flake"
me: "You do have whiting dont you?"
her: "yes yes, whiting sure."
me: "Ok then, i just want the same as a pack 2, but can we just add 50c or something for a piece of whiting instead of flake?
her: "NO. Pack2 only flake."
me: "ok, ok.. well can i just buy all the same things as go into a pack 2, individually, but one pice flake and one piece whiting?"
her: "NO NO! No pack 2 with whiting only flake!"
me: "yes, i know, i understand."
I then looked up at the board to read what a pack 2 had in it. I then start to read it out...
me: "Alright... can i have 2 potato cakes, 2 dim sims, chips for 2 and 1 flake and 1 { ...almost there... come on come on.. we can do this} whiti... {oh oh, shes onto me... no no please no...}
her: "NO PACK 2 ONLY FLAKE!"
I was about to leap over the counter at this point and shove the bloody fish in the fryer myself. Plus flake woman for good measure. I think she sensed this.
her: "You get pack 1 {1 flake, i dim sim, i potato cake, chips} plus dim sim, plus potato cake plus whiting: $11.05"
me: "DONE!"
(And i bet you a lobster the flake wasnt flake anyways...)
The things we do for love. If not a preggas Mistress P.
Postscript: You know when you eat a really crusty roll for lunch and it kinda sandpapers the top of your mouth and then you eat something really salty (read soy sauce) and it burns the mouth cuts and destroys all the fun of eating something really salty fatty and altogether unhealthy enough to taste bloody great?? Bugger...
Sunday night, tired from a sailing session at Green Point (with my new Combat Wave 5.0; wuvverly), and Mistress P arriving home from a 1-year old barfday party ("Im buggered!"), and all seemed right and dandy for a fish and chippy slap up feed.
"I can't eat flake now (shes preggas) - can you get me some whiting instead?"
No worries my dear.
Head on dow the chippie - which is actually a milk bar run by a nice but grossly overworked asian couple who at first had no idea but now make some of the best fish and chips (and hamburgers) i know of. This side of anywhere.
Walk in the door and out fromthe back walks the lady, scoffing down some dinner of her own.
"I'll have a 2-pack please, and..."
"PACK 2 PACK 2" she barked at me. (A "pack 2" is 2 flake, 2 dim sims, 2 potato cakes and a serve of chips. $10.50 Its not rocket science. Indeed, i always seem to call it a 2-pack, and this upsets her and her husband greatly when i have asked for such in the past.)
me: "Errr.. yes, a pack 2 please, but can one be without flake - whiting instead?"
her: "NO. Pack 2 only flake"
me: "Ok, well can i have a pack 2 with whiting, and i'll pay the difference"
her: "No, pack 2 only flake"
me: "You do have whiting dont you?"
her: "yes yes, whiting sure."
me: "Ok then, i just want the same as a pack 2, but can we just add 50c or something for a piece of whiting instead of flake?
her: "NO. Pack2 only flake."
me: "ok, ok.. well can i just buy all the same things as go into a pack 2, individually, but one pice flake and one piece whiting?"
her: "NO NO! No pack 2 with whiting only flake!"
me: "yes, i know, i understand."
I then looked up at the board to read what a pack 2 had in it. I then start to read it out...
me: "Alright... can i have 2 potato cakes, 2 dim sims, chips for 2 and 1 flake and 1 { ...almost there... come on come on.. we can do this} whiti... {oh oh, shes onto me... no no please no...}
her: "NO PACK 2 ONLY FLAKE!"
I was about to leap over the counter at this point and shove the bloody fish in the fryer myself. Plus flake woman for good measure. I think she sensed this.
her: "You get pack 1 {1 flake, i dim sim, i potato cake, chips} plus dim sim, plus potato cake plus whiting: $11.05"
me: "DONE!"
(And i bet you a lobster the flake wasnt flake anyways...)
The things we do for love. If not a preggas Mistress P.
Postscript: You know when you eat a really crusty roll for lunch and it kinda sandpapers the top of your mouth and then you eat something really salty (read soy sauce) and it burns the mouth cuts and destroys all the fun of eating something really salty fatty and altogether unhealthy enough to taste bloody great?? Bugger...
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Eating shite and getting smeared
I am glad to report that stories of my passing are greatly exaggerated.
Sandy Point, a howling WNW wind and an urge to replicate the great Cup Weekend wave sail of 2005. (My favourite and best wave sail ever.)
I rigged the 5.0 and donned the skid lid and joined James and Joel, two young bucks with more sailing talent in their little toes than most will get in their lives. Possibly including me.
The three of us headed out with a posse of onlookers crowded on the boardwalk, videos in hand and "they're bloody nuts" comments wafting from their mouths. And they may have had a point there, cos it was farkin huge. We're talking 2-3 metres average, with the occasional mast high set (ie 4 metres).
I was just pumped and was seeing it as a chance to carve some waves and be a legend in my own lunchbox. Little was i to know that the ocean demands respect, and i was just a petulant little boy with grandiose ambitions and testicles too big for their boots/grundies.
The run out was going ok... till i hit a steepening wave and a breaking top.
"Floof" - in i went.
No wukkas - lets start again.
But it was somewhat harder than that, given that the infamous Sandy wind hole was working to perfection, cutting the breeze to zip the moment you hit the breaking zone. Still i escaped, a little tireder than expected for a first run, and the gods opened a path to the back of the break for the gybe and sail back in.
Or so i thought.
Back on the beach, apparently there was a collective:
"OH-MY-FUGGIN-GOD-HES TOAST!!!!!!"
Cos what they could see and i couldnt, was a mast-PLUS high set building behind the last of what i thought were the last of the breakers. And build it did... (picture the final scene of The Perfect Storm...)
I looked up and, well, pooped me dacks/wetty... cos it was a wall infront of me about 5 metres high. And starting to break. And nowhere to go...
I cant even remember how i ended up in the drink (though i may have fallen - i really cant recall), and attempted to guide the mast under the water and the breaking wave. Survived. If a little mix-mastered.
But then came his uglier angrier brother. Who was particualraly ugly and angry.
Oh shit.
The following monster wave broke on me and all i was doing was rapidly trying to swim under my gear, in front of it and at least away from fins and masts and gel coat and things that break noses/ribs/me-in-half.
The person high wash (which was still heading down) crunched me + gear, and the kit was ripped from my hands. Great. Here i was in the front-loader from hell, being washed about with nothing to float me.
Then i got washed again.
"Oh this is getting rediculous"...
I couldn't see my gear, the boys or, for that matter the beach.
I had a momentary panic... cos i also realised a rip was dragging me sideshore and i was simply buggered from fighting waves. Momentarily though, cos that wonderful little man that sits on my shoulder and whispers words of logic said:
"Dude... you've bodysurfed here all the time... just wash in and dont bother trying to swim it."
Right you are then.
Only some of these waves were about twice the size of anything i'd normally bodysurf, and hence i ducked under several before taking on one that looked a little smaller than the others... which was still size XXXXL and promptly rolled and tumbled me underwater, with an instant of "Excuse me sir, but do you know the way to the air please?" In all seriousness, this was where I had a "so this is how people drown eh..." moment, which was almost instantly replaced with a "dont be a tosser, just swim AB". A second or three later i was gulping the oxygen again.
Man, was i knackered. Where were those boys??
(Bugger - could see them now on the beach having a Tosca.... just my luck.)
A few more and generally successful washes and i'd been rinse-cycled in far enough that i was out of the big ones and into the shore break... which was still big, but i proceeded to bodysurf in relatively easily and quickly.
Then I saw my gear - floating about 50 metres downwind and with joel wading out to meet it. Then i saw him lift it skywards and laughing.
Board fine, mast fine, boom fine, sail farked! It would have fared better through an industrial shredder. Crikey! (At least that wasnt my body...)
After the walk of shame back up the beach, assisted by an obviously nervous Mistress P ("I was so glad when you finally started doing freestyle - you were just a bobbing head when we finally saw you"), and feeling like a complete nong, I went back to the car and packed up and joined the diehards on the boardwalk watching the others carve it up in the waves. Even took a few pics.
I was, I admit, shaken. As well as stirred.
That round goes to the Ocean.
Respect.
Sandy Point, a howling WNW wind and an urge to replicate the great Cup Weekend wave sail of 2005. (My favourite and best wave sail ever.)I rigged the 5.0 and donned the skid lid and joined James and Joel, two young bucks with more sailing talent in their little toes than most will get in their lives. Possibly including me.
The three of us headed out with a posse of onlookers crowded on the boardwalk, videos in hand and "they're bloody nuts" comments wafting from their mouths. And they may have had a point there, cos it was farkin huge. We're talking 2-3 metres average, with the occasional mast high set (ie 4 metres).
I was just pumped and was seeing it as a chance to carve some waves and be a legend in my own lunchbox. Little was i to know that the ocean demands respect, and i was just a petulant little boy with grandiose ambitions and testicles too big for their boots/grundies.
The run out was going ok... till i hit a steepening wave and a breaking top.
"Floof" - in i went.
No wukkas - lets start again.
But it was somewhat harder than that, given that the infamous Sandy wind hole was working to perfection, cutting the breeze to zip the moment you hit the breaking zone. Still i escaped, a little tireder than expected for a first run, and the gods opened a path to the back of the break for the gybe and sail back in.
Or so i thought.
Back on the beach, apparently there was a collective:
"OH-MY-FUGGIN-GOD-HES TOAST!!!!!!"
Cos what they could see and i couldnt, was a mast-PLUS high set building behind the last of what i thought were the last of the breakers. And build it did... (picture the final scene of The Perfect Storm...)
I looked up and, well, pooped me dacks/wetty... cos it was a wall infront of me about 5 metres high. And starting to break. And nowhere to go...
I cant even remember how i ended up in the drink (though i may have fallen - i really cant recall), and attempted to guide the mast under the water and the breaking wave. Survived. If a little mix-mastered.
But then came his uglier angrier brother. Who was particualraly ugly and angry.
Oh shit.
The following monster wave broke on me and all i was doing was rapidly trying to swim under my gear, in front of it and at least away from fins and masts and gel coat and things that break noses/ribs/me-in-half.
The person high wash (which was still heading down) crunched me + gear, and the kit was ripped from my hands. Great. Here i was in the front-loader from hell, being washed about with nothing to float me.
Then i got washed again.
"Oh this is getting rediculous"...
I couldn't see my gear, the boys or, for that matter the beach.
I had a momentary panic... cos i also realised a rip was dragging me sideshore and i was simply buggered from fighting waves. Momentarily though, cos that wonderful little man that sits on my shoulder and whispers words of logic said:
"Dude... you've bodysurfed here all the time... just wash in and dont bother trying to swim it."
Right you are then.
Only some of these waves were about twice the size of anything i'd normally bodysurf, and hence i ducked under several before taking on one that looked a little smaller than the others... which was still size XXXXL and promptly rolled and tumbled me underwater, with an instant of "Excuse me sir, but do you know the way to the air please?" In all seriousness, this was where I had a "so this is how people drown eh..." moment, which was almost instantly replaced with a "dont be a tosser, just swim AB". A second or three later i was gulping the oxygen again.
Man, was i knackered. Where were those boys??
(Bugger - could see them now on the beach having a Tosca.... just my luck.)
A few more and generally successful washes and i'd been rinse-cycled in far enough that i was out of the big ones and into the shore break... which was still big, but i proceeded to bodysurf in relatively easily and quickly.
Then I saw my gear - floating about 50 metres downwind and with joel wading out to meet it. Then i saw him lift it skywards and laughing.
Board fine, mast fine, boom fine, sail farked! It would have fared better through an industrial shredder. Crikey! (At least that wasnt my body...)
After the walk of shame back up the beach, assisted by an obviously nervous Mistress P ("I was so glad when you finally started doing freestyle - you were just a bobbing head when we finally saw you"), and feeling like a complete nong, I went back to the car and packed up and joined the diehards on the boardwalk watching the others carve it up in the waves. Even took a few pics.
I was, I admit, shaken. As well as stirred.
That round goes to the Ocean.
Respect.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Single speeding
The stick - the natural enemy of the mountain bike derailleur.We were out at Lysterfied and i was putting in the hard yards/ogling behind mistress P, zipping in and out of the trees on one of the wonderful back-of-park singletraks when...
"CRUNCH".
skid.
stop.
"Oh fiddle sticks" (or words to that effect).
There dangling in a rather unmechanical way was my rear derailleur, no long able to change gears and more than likely DOA (dead on arrival). A half inch stick had neatly been spun up by my front wheel, deposited itself in the spokes of the rear, wedged against my derailleur and - voila - ripped the bloody thing clean orf.
"Oh sod" (or words to that effect).
But then comes the fun part, and surely a furture episode of bush mechanics, Lysterfield style. We werent exactly sure how far i had to go to get to somewhere civilised, so it was repair time. Out with the chain breaker.
"Clunk"
chain severed... derailleur removed,
"clunk"
chain shortened
"ker ching"
chain reattached and the worlds first full suspension singlespeed!!
Mistress P zip-tied the gear-change cables to the frame, and i was off. Worked an absolute treat!! (I would have included photos but we'd just used up the battery filming us being idiots on some log roll.) In fact i tried to chase the others (who were heading back to the cars in another location) it felt and worked that well, but then realised i had better be sensible and just head to the nearer car park.
Mistress P dropped the single speeder off at the bike shop a cupla daze later, and reported they were most impressed. (Thats great, but i doubt they'll give me a discount on a new hanger!)
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Cruisin'
Well finally the chaos of life subsided and Mistress P and I took some time off. A trip down the coast to experience the winter wildness of the Great Ocean Road and Shipwreck Coast. Apollo Bay was the first port of call, where we stayed in a lovely little cottage about 4 km out of town, in amongst the mounatin ash and king parrots. Bootiful.
Days were spent exploring... Day one was the Otway Fly - where you walk along in the treetops - which was spectacular in its own way, but i still found the nearby Triplet Falls more inspiring and natural. Home via some bouncy bush tracks to "indulge my rally driving fantasies" said mistress P.
Day 2 early was a trip to Mariners lookout above Apollo Bay. Now this is a speccy spot - the views over the bay are amazing and we could have sat there for hours. We stayed long enough for a little picnic lunch, and only saw a couple of other people the whole time (the joy of a winter holiday to the beach...). Afternoon was a trip to the Cape Otway lighthouse. We did a guided tour (arghh... the horror; nah, it was actually quite fascinating) during which the guide said the weather observations would be read at 3pm. We thought "great".. the rest of the people thought we were nutbags. The view from the lighthouse itself was superb, but at 3 we tootled off to the weather hut and caught up with Malcolm Brack, the observer. After introducing ourselves we proceeded to chat for well over an hour. Not only had he been the observer there for some 30 odd years, but he was the son of a lighthouse keeper and had lived in, near and around lighthouses all his life.
The third day was a little different... we'd heard about a mountain bike loop near the town of Forrest, at a place called Lake Elizabeth. Heard about indeed... but couldnt get any details from anyone. The closest we got was "a friend did it and its very hard so maybe you shouldnt do it". And this was from the information centre! In the end we just threw caution to the wind and headed up the Skenes Creek Rd to Forrest. Lunch needed... dropped into a cafe where we were greeted by a bizzare collection of 40's paraphanalia, a women cutting out a can-can dress on a big table, and a man behind the counter who just said with a large lump of surprise "ohh... customers" when we walked in. We sat and chatted for a while and wished can-can lady luck (she was quitting her job in 4 weeks and moving to Forrest to do... she didnt really know). Off to Lake Elizabeth and bikes out for a lap of the lake - which indeed was very noice, but hardly a day ride (was 5km all up). We couldnt for the life of us work out where this MTB loop was supposed to be, so in deperation we cycled up a track that looked like it just lead up from the car park to a loo. Now i should say her that the bush here was spectacular - tall mountain ash, blackwoods and rich green soft treeferns. Anyway.. loo track. Along we went... then saw some wheel marks,.. then some more track... and after around 2km of consistent climbing reached the road again. "Oh boy, that'll be a hoot to descend" i remember thinking. "Hey, wonder if it keeps going on the other side".. so we checked, and indeed it did. So over the road and the ridge, and down the other side. and indeed this was truely hoot-worthy. We dived off the main track a few times to what was probably the original (and far more technical) singletrack. On and on we went, gradually descending, and tackling some great little (and medium sized) jumps that just had me salivating for more. But alas and alack, winter also means the sun sets earlier, and that, coupled with the increasing risk of rain (indeed we did get a little wet) meant we werent able to find out if there was indeed a full loop, so we bactracked up the ridge and then did the fern track descent back to the car park. Bwilliant. Just bwilliant.
The fourth day was a cruise along to Port Campbell to check out the shipwreck coast. On the way we visited the cool rainforest of Melba Gully (near Lavers Hill) and also tried to find "The Gables", which i had read about being a spectacular cliff top ocean view. Our maps sent us every which way, but eventually, after taking the dirt road to Moonlight Head, discivered what we were looking for. A short walk and there we were - 130 metres above the ocean and a view well worth the bounce down the track. Back on the tar and a stop at Gibsons Steps, were indeed steps have been cut in the cliff and you can walk down to the beach. Finally Port Campbell, our new home.
Day five was the tourist day, exploring alon the coast and the spectacular scenery of the Bay of islands, Loch Ard Gorge and all the various stops and views along the road. There was more than enough people about - all in little hyundai getx hire cars! - so i shudder to think what it would have been like in summer. Day six was much the same, though it was our travelling home day. But we took the time to drop into the 12 Apostles - which are indeed spectacular - and shipwreck bay. Shipwreck bay is again down the rough tracks towards Moonlight Head, and involved a walk down 366 steps to the beach. Once there the place was truly wild and deserted, woth crashing surf, towering cliffs and rocky shore platforms. We wandered west and soon came across one of two anchors from shopwrecks that, depsite being around 100 years old, are still visible, stuck in the beach. Mind boggling to think of the stories they could tell. Also discvered a little fairy epngion that had been washed up and looking decidedly done for (though still alive).
Home - but thats another story...
Days were spent exploring... Day one was the Otway Fly - where you walk along in the treetops - which was spectacular in its own way, but i still found the nearby Triplet Falls more inspiring and natural. Home via some bouncy bush tracks to "indulge my rally driving fantasies" said mistress P.
Day 2 early was a trip to Mariners lookout above Apollo Bay. Now this is a speccy spot - the views over the bay are amazing and we could have sat there for hours. We stayed long enough for a little picnic lunch, and only saw a couple of other people the whole time (the joy of a winter holiday to the beach...). Afternoon was a trip to the Cape Otway lighthouse. We did a guided tour (arghh... the horror; nah, it was actually quite fascinating) during which the guide said the weather observations would be read at 3pm. We thought "great".. the rest of the people thought we were nutbags. The view from the lighthouse itself was superb, but at 3 we tootled off to the weather hut and caught up with Malcolm Brack, the observer. After introducing ourselves we proceeded to chat for well over an hour. Not only had he been the observer there for some 30 odd years, but he was the son of a lighthouse keeper and had lived in, near and around lighthouses all his life.
The third day was a little different... we'd heard about a mountain bike loop near the town of Forrest, at a place called Lake Elizabeth. Heard about indeed... but couldnt get any details from anyone. The closest we got was "a friend did it and its very hard so maybe you shouldnt do it". And this was from the information centre! In the end we just threw caution to the wind and headed up the Skenes Creek Rd to Forrest. Lunch needed... dropped into a cafe where we were greeted by a bizzare collection of 40's paraphanalia, a women cutting out a can-can dress on a big table, and a man behind the counter who just said with a large lump of surprise "ohh... customers" when we walked in. We sat and chatted for a while and wished can-can lady luck (she was quitting her job in 4 weeks and moving to Forrest to do... she didnt really know). Off to Lake Elizabeth and bikes out for a lap of the lake - which indeed was very noice, but hardly a day ride (was 5km all up). We couldnt for the life of us work out where this MTB loop was supposed to be, so in deperation we cycled up a track that looked like it just lead up from the car park to a loo. Now i should say her that the bush here was spectacular - tall mountain ash, blackwoods and rich green soft treeferns. Anyway.. loo track. Along we went... then saw some wheel marks,.. then some more track... and after around 2km of consistent climbing reached the road again. "Oh boy, that'll be a hoot to descend" i remember thinking. "Hey, wonder if it keeps going on the other side".. so we checked, and indeed it did. So over the road and the ridge, and down the other side. and indeed this was truely hoot-worthy. We dived off the main track a few times to what was probably the original (and far more technical) singletrack. On and on we went, gradually descending, and tackling some great little (and medium sized) jumps that just had me salivating for more. But alas and alack, winter also means the sun sets earlier, and that, coupled with the increasing risk of rain (indeed we did get a little wet) meant we werent able to find out if there was indeed a full loop, so we bactracked up the ridge and then did the fern track descent back to the car park. Bwilliant. Just bwilliant.
The fourth day was a cruise along to Port Campbell to check out the shipwreck coast. On the way we visited the cool rainforest of Melba Gully (near Lavers Hill) and also tried to find "The Gables", which i had read about being a spectacular cliff top ocean view. Our maps sent us every which way, but eventually, after taking the dirt road to Moonlight Head, discivered what we were looking for. A short walk and there we were - 130 metres above the ocean and a view well worth the bounce down the track. Back on the tar and a stop at Gibsons Steps, were indeed steps have been cut in the cliff and you can walk down to the beach. Finally Port Campbell, our new home.
Day five was the tourist day, exploring alon the coast and the spectacular scenery of the Bay of islands, Loch Ard Gorge and all the various stops and views along the road. There was more than enough people about - all in little hyundai getx hire cars! - so i shudder to think what it would have been like in summer. Day six was much the same, though it was our travelling home day. But we took the time to drop into the 12 Apostles - which are indeed spectacular - and shipwreck bay. Shipwreck bay is again down the rough tracks towards Moonlight Head, and involved a walk down 366 steps to the beach. Once there the place was truly wild and deserted, woth crashing surf, towering cliffs and rocky shore platforms. We wandered west and soon came across one of two anchors from shopwrecks that, depsite being around 100 years old, are still visible, stuck in the beach. Mind boggling to think of the stories they could tell. Also discvered a little fairy epngion that had been washed up and looking decidedly done for (though still alive).
Home - but thats another story...
Saturday, June 24, 2006
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