The ocean in very much a Summer Mood of a little NE swell, after seabreezes (NE) and swollen sand banks. This means that the point breaks at Merewether are not working and all beach breaks are tending to close out.
Along the Merewether to Pogo's stretch on Thursday and Friday the surf was unattractive at all tides. And whe there were some off decent waves breaking, the surf-starved Kooks were in abundance.
Saturday I made a virgin pilgrimage to One Mile Beach, 80 k and an easy 1 hr. Drive. The e-forecasts iddntified tge ESE swell as being ok for OMB.
The beach looked a picture and being Saturday was very crowded with: surfboard hiring thrashers, backpackers (chicks in thongs riding mals is very distracting), grommies and dads pushing kids on waves. At the S end the kids being shoved onto was were gobbling up 2' waves that were very hard to pickup.
I then paddled over to the first beach break N of the flagged area. The beach here was picking up more swell (3') but many were close outs. In fact, sll tge set waves did close out thunderously and it was amusing watching two older kooks on softies taking these and planning what to do if they "broke [their] necks". By ptocess of elimination I decided that the smallest waves were the go. But by picking and chosing, the wave count wS low and I managed less that 10 waves. The manoeuvre of the day was a very short noseride.
Overall, a very pleasant experience to be splashing about in such an atmoshere with great "scenery". Next time I think larger swell (S point break) and a weekday should improve prospects if a decent surf. Nearby Birubi, on a weekday, may also be worth a look.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
Hobie Adventure Island Anyone?
Organisers of the Everglades Challenge destail its aims as :-
"The Watertribe Organization's mantra is to encourage the development of boats, equipment, skills and human athletic performance for safe and efficient coastal cruising using minimal impact human and wind powered watercraft such as sea kayaks, canoes and small sailboats."
As a disillusioned trailer sailer sailor, I resent its need of a fuel guzzling 4wd to launch and retrieve, docility under sail and really cramoed living quarters. The sailing espoused by The Watertribe comes to me as a breath of fresh air.
Yes my little Mirror dinghy Tilman could sail along the coast, but I'm contemplating many more exciting sailing including blasting along the coast and shooting the surf ashore as I discover a camp for the night.
Selling "Misty" would fund the purchase of a Hobie Adventure Island trimaran. Basically a sailing kayak with folding amas. Being a Hobie it's typically rugged and user friendly, with sparkling performance.
One TI set speed
records during the EC and several come up for sail on my local Gumtree.
Mmmm, just me, sitting facing forward, shooting along on the water, fearlessly negotiating shoals, peaking waves or dwindling breezes. Carrying minimalist camping gear off to remote, secluded shores, to sit by campfire, eating seafood in the nude! Hehe :))
SPECIFICATIONS *
Crew: 1-2
Length: 18' 6" / 5.64 m
Beam (Amas Folded In): 4' / 1.22 m
Beam (Amas Out): 10' / 3.05 m
Capacity: 600 lbs / 272 kg *
Fitted Hull Weight: 130 lbs / 59 kg *
Fully Rigged Weight: 240 lbs / 109 kg *
Mast Length: 18' / 5.49 m
Sail Area: 90 ft² / 8.4 m²
Hull Construction: Rotomolded Polyethylene
"The Watertribe Organization's mantra is to encourage the development of boats, equipment, skills and human athletic performance for safe and efficient coastal cruising using minimal impact human and wind powered watercraft such as sea kayaks, canoes and small sailboats."
As a disillusioned trailer sailer sailor, I resent its need of a fuel guzzling 4wd to launch and retrieve, docility under sail and really cramoed living quarters. The sailing espoused by The Watertribe comes to me as a breath of fresh air.
Yes my little Mirror dinghy Tilman could sail along the coast, but I'm contemplating many more exciting sailing including blasting along the coast and shooting the surf ashore as I discover a camp for the night.
Selling "Misty" would fund the purchase of a Hobie Adventure Island trimaran. Basically a sailing kayak with folding amas. Being a Hobie it's typically rugged and user friendly, with sparkling performance.
One TI set speed
Mmmm, just me, sitting facing forward, shooting along on the water, fearlessly negotiating shoals, peaking waves or dwindling breezes. Carrying minimalist camping gear off to remote, secluded shores, to sit by campfire, eating seafood in the nude! Hehe :))
SPECIFICATIONS *
Crew: 1-2
Length: 18' 6" / 5.64 m
Beam (Amas Folded In): 4' / 1.22 m
Beam (Amas Out): 10' / 3.05 m
Capacity: 600 lbs / 272 kg *
Fitted Hull Weight: 130 lbs / 59 kg *
Fully Rigged Weight: 240 lbs / 109 kg *
Mast Length: 18' / 5.49 m
Sail Area: 90 ft² / 8.4 m²
Hull Construction: Rotomolded Polyethylene
Saturday, February 9, 2019
A New (to me) 9'1" Malibu
Picked up a bigger mal' from a retiri g surfer in s little surfside town up the coast. He wanted to clean his garage and everything he no longer used had to go. His loss was my gain!
But, although it looked right, she was shaped by someone unknown to me. There's only one way to know for sure .... i took the last parking space at Boomerang Beach. The headlsnd was pumping out some fairly cranky 5 footers that looked way too gnarly for a mal', but there was a bank down the beach a ways.
Well, long story short; right from the get-go she felt nice. I rode a few lefts, nice cutbacks, reos and the odd controlled floater. As my confidence grew I began picking off larger waves and really cranking heavy cutbacks on my firehand,
. This board stuck like glue and I foubd no trouble cruising high on steep walls, speeding through fast sections. The Stoke was back better than it has been in years!
 |
| I Christen Thee BLUEY! |
Well, long story short; right from the get-go she felt nice. I rode a few lefts, nice cutbacks, reos and the odd controlled floater. As my confidence grew I began picking off larger waves and really cranking heavy cutbacks on my firehand,
. This board stuck like glue and I foubd no trouble cruising high on steep walls, speeding through fast sections. The Stoke was back better than it has been in years!
Wednesday, January 30, 2019
A Surfing Re-Entry
During the current heatwave (pver 3 weeks!) my son and I have seeking refuge at my mum's place by the sea. Its the same house I grew up in though I did spent as much time in the water, surfing.
But, soon after marrying the frequency of my surfing dwindled, I moved further from the coast, put on weight ... the rest is history.,
Until last week when I discovered my old malibu, and took it surfing. Sinve then I've had four surf sessions and even got hd of a second surfboard. It hasn't all been plain sailing though and I've had only two "good" sessions. Well in fact just npw O had a fantastic session on clean 2' left handers. The forecast had been for 30 knot onshore winds, and had been looking that way earlier but a quick check at lunchtime revealed light offshore conditions. Perfect for a surfer!
What's this got to do with sailing? I hear you ask, well I'm learning, quite a lot. For years I've thought that surfing provided a valuable grounding in one's sea-sense. I've never been ablee to clarify my thoughts on this but a book I'm currently reading, called "Mindfulness and Surfing" by Sam Bleakley, may be of great help?
But, soon after marrying the frequency of my surfing dwindled, I moved further from the coast, put on weight ... the rest is history.,
Until last week when I discovered my old malibu, and took it surfing. Sinve then I've had four surf sessions and even got hd of a second surfboard. It hasn't all been plain sailing though and I've had only two "good" sessions. Well in fact just npw O had a fantastic session on clean 2' left handers. The forecast had been for 30 knot onshore winds, and had been looking that way earlier but a quick check at lunchtime revealed light offshore conditions. Perfect for a surfer!
What's this got to do with sailing? I hear you ask, well I'm learning, quite a lot. For years I've thought that surfing provided a valuable grounding in one's sea-sense. I've never been ablee to clarify my thoughts on this but a book I'm currently reading, called "Mindfulness and Surfing" by Sam Bleakley, may be of great help?
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Rebirth Through Surfing
Its Monday morning, the buzz of the city has stopped.
I'm back in my Bush Hideout, just me and a back chorus of roosters and cicadas. As if woken from a big night out; overwhelming elation, some regret and the image of a woman that hardly knows I exist.
The elation is from "the feeling" that only a surfer knows. After thirty years of marriage, staring down the barrell of retirement into poverty, I'd been tidying mum's place for her 88th birthday and discovered my old malibu covered in dust, dirt and cockroach shit. "I thought you'd been stolen my old friend!". I hosed him down, noticed the dings, sun browning and gentle rocker. "May be I could take you out?".
During the luncheon party my bloated younger brother spoke of his wobbly surfing experiences of late. I was more interested to learn that his son, depressed by an adolescence centred on gaming and the tragic loss of a close friend, had taken up surfing. For my brother a return to surfing (like everything he half-did) was a Toad-esque Pursuit, for his son it sounded like a path towards solitude and beauty. He was surfing "about twice a day", the only way.
It had been like that for me for years, surfing came after sleeping and school or work. Crap like partying, girls and "life shit" came down the list ... before they overwhelmed me I lost the plot. I needed some of that solitude and beauty in my life again.
The sexy single mum next door to my mum's surfs with her son, a rising grommet I hear. She catches me down the side of the house eyeing tbe lines of my old mal' and meditating on the physical aspects of surfing, trying to rekindle that body-knowledge accumulated from years of devotion. She floors me with a flash of white teeth and a gentle wave. Back on track old boy!
Being high summer the beach was packed, but mostly with sun worshippers and groups of tattooed drinkers.WTF! Most of the surfers of my generation were lost in suburbia or were jaded by the crowds tbis place could pull. Over the years it has risen as a powerhouse of Australian and World surfing, and one of the Legends lives overlooking the waves. Typically summer sea breeze, chop and small waves. Perfect for me to fly below the radar and try to catch a few little ones, to awaken the body to baalnce and movement. The ability to read a wave has never left me, but my physique, posture and confidence had been buried in that crap marriage and years of raising and educating my two children. My son, nearly a foot taller, smiled at my nervous lack of coordination as I was being devoured by self-consciousness and doubt. I was either going to ride a few quiet ones or make a fair spectacle of myself as some Old Loser. The depths to which I'd sunk from a competitive club surfer were phenomenal, I'm thinking the raising of a World War II submarine.
Getting on the board, face just aft of the deck logo had to be adjusted for extra weight and less power in my arms! The humiliation I was putting myself through was massive, but I realised that being an Old Dude, created a kind of anonymity. Really, no one gave a fuck whether I sank or swam. But I did, this was about me rebuilding, getting back out there.
I avoided a group of six or so guys hovering where the sort of three feet waves were peaking more often. Lotd of waves were closing out because of the swell direction, too NE, but I could pick the odd small one that held up, here's one now. One and a half foot, but had a smooth should, I tossed my legs out over the side, grabbed the rails and twisted my 8'4" mal around and paddled like I was taking off on a 6 footer. Momentum gained, right now on your pegs, up, a microscopic wobble to the left as we reached the foot pf the wave, corrected, now a turn. Knowing my leg strength and coordination were shakey, and me being so bloody nervous, I fed weight into the turn very gently and around she came, as the bow rose above the midline of the face I eased back and let her glide down the line. That's when THE FEELING hit, inwardly I beamed. "So long suckers!" says Mr. T. The Ex, any doubters on the beach, all those people that use sex to flood our senses through advertising, anyone who ever dissed me can go and eat a plate of steaming shit, cos I'm over you small minded twits! Eat shit arseholes cos I'm on Top of The World!
There was a surfing logo years ago that said "only a surfer knows the feeling", and its so right. Being propelled through space on the crest of a wave, no matter what size, or how bumpy it is, is just a special feeling. For me too it had that sense of rekindling the self-pride that I'd got from surfing many years ago. As if Id been lying under a great pile of rubble and bodies, and just awoken and struggled to my feet and seen the light. So profound!
My son said cheekily: "got a wave dad". "Yep got a wave mate. Lookout!". And I caught just a few more, some I tried a small reo, others I just cruised along because the wave didn't allow me to do much else. But each time that buzz feeling. I couldn't restrain myself though and did try and do too much and fell off, I didnt have the fine coordination or leg strength to drive into hard turns, but that's ok I soothed to myself. Theres room to improve for God's sake, Ive only surfer a handful of times in the past 30 years ... what! 30 years, I count them to be sure. Yep, that's right. The Inner Smile was very soothing, yeh it wasnt big, I never impressed anyone with my skills, but I was surfing again. The thrill of being dowsed in dancing ocean waters, following the constant play of light on ots surfaces, watching other surfers perform, is another world. Some of the guys I surfed alongside those years ago are no longer alive, most couldnt manage what I've been through to get here, but some aurf "every day" and the lucky few own houses nearby that they secured before the place was made over by years of development.
But here tbis morning lpunging about in my wuiet Bush Hideout Im happy. No I cant manage an earlt morning surf very easily, yes my follow-up surf session yesterday afternoon was not was rewarding, and slightly embarrassing, but you know its like any Morning After; you're left with mixed feelings of joy and some shitty-ness. But spending a challenging and joyoud moments in one of nature's most beautiful playrooms was always going to offer massive rewards.
I'm back in my Bush Hideout, just me and a back chorus of roosters and cicadas. As if woken from a big night out; overwhelming elation, some regret and the image of a woman that hardly knows I exist.
The elation is from "the feeling" that only a surfer knows. After thirty years of marriage, staring down the barrell of retirement into poverty, I'd been tidying mum's place for her 88th birthday and discovered my old malibu covered in dust, dirt and cockroach shit. "I thought you'd been stolen my old friend!". I hosed him down, noticed the dings, sun browning and gentle rocker. "May be I could take you out?".
During the luncheon party my bloated younger brother spoke of his wobbly surfing experiences of late. I was more interested to learn that his son, depressed by an adolescence centred on gaming and the tragic loss of a close friend, had taken up surfing. For my brother a return to surfing (like everything he half-did) was a Toad-esque Pursuit, for his son it sounded like a path towards solitude and beauty. He was surfing "about twice a day", the only way.
It had been like that for me for years, surfing came after sleeping and school or work. Crap like partying, girls and "life shit" came down the list ... before they overwhelmed me I lost the plot. I needed some of that solitude and beauty in my life again.
The sexy single mum next door to my mum's surfs with her son, a rising grommet I hear. She catches me down the side of the house eyeing tbe lines of my old mal' and meditating on the physical aspects of surfing, trying to rekindle that body-knowledge accumulated from years of devotion. She floors me with a flash of white teeth and a gentle wave. Back on track old boy!
Being high summer the beach was packed, but mostly with sun worshippers and groups of tattooed drinkers.WTF! Most of the surfers of my generation were lost in suburbia or were jaded by the crowds tbis place could pull. Over the years it has risen as a powerhouse of Australian and World surfing, and one of the Legends lives overlooking the waves. Typically summer sea breeze, chop and small waves. Perfect for me to fly below the radar and try to catch a few little ones, to awaken the body to baalnce and movement. The ability to read a wave has never left me, but my physique, posture and confidence had been buried in that crap marriage and years of raising and educating my two children. My son, nearly a foot taller, smiled at my nervous lack of coordination as I was being devoured by self-consciousness and doubt. I was either going to ride a few quiet ones or make a fair spectacle of myself as some Old Loser. The depths to which I'd sunk from a competitive club surfer were phenomenal, I'm thinking the raising of a World War II submarine.
Getting on the board, face just aft of the deck logo had to be adjusted for extra weight and less power in my arms! The humiliation I was putting myself through was massive, but I realised that being an Old Dude, created a kind of anonymity. Really, no one gave a fuck whether I sank or swam. But I did, this was about me rebuilding, getting back out there.
I avoided a group of six or so guys hovering where the sort of three feet waves were peaking more often. Lotd of waves were closing out because of the swell direction, too NE, but I could pick the odd small one that held up, here's one now. One and a half foot, but had a smooth should, I tossed my legs out over the side, grabbed the rails and twisted my 8'4" mal around and paddled like I was taking off on a 6 footer. Momentum gained, right now on your pegs, up, a microscopic wobble to the left as we reached the foot pf the wave, corrected, now a turn. Knowing my leg strength and coordination were shakey, and me being so bloody nervous, I fed weight into the turn very gently and around she came, as the bow rose above the midline of the face I eased back and let her glide down the line. That's when THE FEELING hit, inwardly I beamed. "So long suckers!" says Mr. T. The Ex, any doubters on the beach, all those people that use sex to flood our senses through advertising, anyone who ever dissed me can go and eat a plate of steaming shit, cos I'm over you small minded twits! Eat shit arseholes cos I'm on Top of The World!
There was a surfing logo years ago that said "only a surfer knows the feeling", and its so right. Being propelled through space on the crest of a wave, no matter what size, or how bumpy it is, is just a special feeling. For me too it had that sense of rekindling the self-pride that I'd got from surfing many years ago. As if Id been lying under a great pile of rubble and bodies, and just awoken and struggled to my feet and seen the light. So profound!
My son said cheekily: "got a wave dad". "Yep got a wave mate. Lookout!". And I caught just a few more, some I tried a small reo, others I just cruised along because the wave didn't allow me to do much else. But each time that buzz feeling. I couldn't restrain myself though and did try and do too much and fell off, I didnt have the fine coordination or leg strength to drive into hard turns, but that's ok I soothed to myself. Theres room to improve for God's sake, Ive only surfer a handful of times in the past 30 years ... what! 30 years, I count them to be sure. Yep, that's right. The Inner Smile was very soothing, yeh it wasnt big, I never impressed anyone with my skills, but I was surfing again. The thrill of being dowsed in dancing ocean waters, following the constant play of light on ots surfaces, watching other surfers perform, is another world. Some of the guys I surfed alongside those years ago are no longer alive, most couldnt manage what I've been through to get here, but some aurf "every day" and the lucky few own houses nearby that they secured before the place was made over by years of development.
But here tbis morning lpunging about in my wuiet Bush Hideout Im happy. No I cant manage an earlt morning surf very easily, yes my follow-up surf session yesterday afternoon was not was rewarding, and slightly embarrassing, but you know its like any Morning After; you're left with mixed feelings of joy and some shitty-ness. But spending a challenging and joyoud moments in one of nature's most beautiful playrooms was always going to offer massive rewards.
Friday, December 28, 2018
Xmas Cruise - part 1
Taking advantage of a work break I hitched Misty to the Land Rover and headed for the water. Originally I had planned to hit the local river and make my way tiwards the sea, riverboat style. But a heatwave forecast of several days ib the high 30's made me reconsider. A more coastal waterway would be 10° cooler.
I decided on Myall Lakes, it offered a range of options for cruising creeks, rivers and open water, all fed by cool afternoon seabreezes.
The ramp at Nerong was a total success. In fact I couldn't believe that this ramp was the best I'd ever used. A healthy gradient, cement pad, wharf and shady park nearby. Not much to ask really. This one had the bonus of bring only moderately used, so there was no time pressure imposed on ramp access.
As it was late when I launched, I moored by the wharf and stowed gear and settled in for the night. Apart from mozzies and a noisy Vietnamese gongoozeler
(before dawn), it was quite successful.
The following morning I stood the Mirror dinghy rig and sailed off the wharf in a light N x 0-5 knots. Ghosting along gave great access to bird watching as we entered the Myall Lakes National Park. The depth of water was not massive, but adequate and well marked.
Reaching the Bombah Broadwater we crabbed along the western shore and entered the Upper Myall River. Clearly I am going through a river phase!
A little upstream a fork had me guessing, I opted for the larger and found myself in a large bay so I chucked the hook over just 15m from the northern extreme of the bay, put the kettle on and read and dozed during the heat of the day. After the hullabaloo of pre-Xmas work, shopping and catching up with family, this cruise was aimed at serious r and r, or coffee, dozing and reading.
In the evening the wind remained blustery, so I stayed put. Wildlife was limited to jumping mullet and little brown ducks. The tendrils of civilization reached out only so far as a single houseboat and although they flitted about skiing, the bay was big enough to ignore them. In fact since leaving the ramp earlier, I'd not seen a house, road or powerline, but during the night the whine of highway traffic carried on the breeze.
The holding in the Lakes system is excelent. Using an oversized CQR and chain, I found the mainly soft mud bottom to be very accommodating. "Hook down, stay put" was the rule.
I decided on Myall Lakes, it offered a range of options for cruising creeks, rivers and open water, all fed by cool afternoon seabreezes.
The ramp at Nerong was a total success. In fact I couldn't believe that this ramp was the best I'd ever used. A healthy gradient, cement pad, wharf and shady park nearby. Not much to ask really. This one had the bonus of bring only moderately used, so there was no time pressure imposed on ramp access.
As it was late when I launched, I moored by the wharf and stowed gear and settled in for the night. Apart from mozzies and a noisy Vietnamese gongoozeler
(before dawn), it was quite successful.
The following morning I stood the Mirror dinghy rig and sailed off the wharf in a light N x 0-5 knots. Ghosting along gave great access to bird watching as we entered the Myall Lakes National Park. The depth of water was not massive, but adequate and well marked.
Reaching the Bombah Broadwater we crabbed along the western shore and entered the Upper Myall River. Clearly I am going through a river phase!
A little upstream a fork had me guessing, I opted for the larger and found myself in a large bay so I chucked the hook over just 15m from the northern extreme of the bay, put the kettle on and read and dozed during the heat of the day. After the hullabaloo of pre-Xmas work, shopping and catching up with family, this cruise was aimed at serious r and r, or coffee, dozing and reading.
In the evening the wind remained blustery, so I stayed put. Wildlife was limited to jumping mullet and little brown ducks. The tendrils of civilization reached out only so far as a single houseboat and although they flitted about skiing, the bay was big enough to ignore them. In fact since leaving the ramp earlier, I'd not seen a house, road or powerline, but during the night the whine of highway traffic carried on the breeze.
The holding in the Lakes system is excelent. Using an oversized CQR and chain, I found the mainly soft mud bottom to be very accommodating. "Hook down, stay put" was the rule.
Sunday, December 16, 2018
Registering Misty my Trailer Sailer and Christmas Cruise
Just today realised my boat rego' for Misty had expired. When I went to pay it online, I realised it lapsed 2 summers ago. Oops!
Just out of interest I investigated the facts about boat registration. The state maritimae authority says that if the engine is over 5hp amd the vessel is pver 5.5m in length, or moored, it needs rego'.
Motor size is 5hp, tick, measure Misty ste to stern, 5.5m minus rudder, outboard and bowrail. S I chec the authority's website, it says:
"Length excludes fittings such as rudder, outboard bracket, outboard, bowsprits ...". Woohoo! But how many owners of vessels advertised as being over 5.5m or 18'6" actually measure under that, are paying registrations of well over $100 a years, are being ripped off?
I am holding my breath, but (Dare I even utter it into cyberspace?), I am possibly getting a week off to go cruising over Christmas! Due to cram in extra paid work to cover this week, and my daughter is independent (but wil usey car amd feed the pets), while mey so os having a week with his mother. Yes I will miss them, but think I will enjoy a week afloat much more. My plans are to go for total solitude and novelty by going a bit shantyboat: no sailing rig (there wil ne bridges), bimini up and lollygagging down my local river with no real destination in mind. Lots of pottering about, reading, drinking cofee and marvelling at the freedom on the river.
Just out of interest I investigated the facts about boat registration. The state maritimae authority says that if the engine is over 5hp amd the vessel is pver 5.5m in length, or moored, it needs rego'.
Motor size is 5hp, tick, measure Misty ste to stern, 5.5m minus rudder, outboard and bowrail. S I chec the authority's website, it says:
"Length excludes fittings such as rudder, outboard bracket, outboard, bowsprits ...". Woohoo! But how many owners of vessels advertised as being over 5.5m or 18'6" actually measure under that, are paying registrations of well over $100 a years, are being ripped off?
I am holding my breath, but (Dare I even utter it into cyberspace?), I am possibly getting a week off to go cruising over Christmas! Due to cram in extra paid work to cover this week, and my daughter is independent (but wil usey car amd feed the pets), while mey so os having a week with his mother. Yes I will miss them, but think I will enjoy a week afloat much more. My plans are to go for total solitude and novelty by going a bit shantyboat: no sailing rig (there wil ne bridges), bimini up and lollygagging down my local river with no real destination in mind. Lots of pottering about, reading, drinking cofee and marvelling at the freedom on the river.
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