We are all part of the crowd, but in some weird schizoid manifestation of our primitive instincts, we all loathe it at the same time. So in the spirit of reframing and trying to see something positive in even the worst of circumstances, consider the few, pathetic, advantages that come from that seasonal swarm of humanity that sweeps down upon your local surf spot at this time of year.
It's been two weeks since Garrett McNamara rode his latest Nazare behemoth and enough time has passed to allow some perpsective. Not that it's really required; it was the mainstream world that went into a lather while the surfing world did little more than blink at the size of Garrett's wave. We clicked 'like' on the Facebook photo and quickly shuffled on to other matters faster than you can say 'Kony'.
I need to preface this article by stating that when the best East Coast swell in recent memory hit – the classic July 2001 swell – I was laying prostrate. Didn't catch a wave for the entire three days of the event. Pinched a nerve in my neck just before that almighty swell made landfall and I missed the whole damn thing.
It wasn't the first time I'd blown it and wouldn't be the last. Take today for instance.
Tim Bonython is the king of the phantom forecast chart, a passionate publisher of the 144 hour apparition. At the merest gathering of isobars Tim excitedly posts the swell models, his exhilaration betrayed by enthusiastic babble and WANTON USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS. When he's in full flight Tim's excitement makes Big Kev look like a dullard.
Cyclone Bruce will do a fridge-to-fridge tour of the Queensland coast finishing at the Point Lookout Hotel for an extended session of binge drinking. Happy and cheerful at first, he'll begin to challenge fellow drinkers with chants of "piss on or piss off", before taking a swing at a confused tourist, vomiting on his feet and then falling asleep in the gutter. The next day there'll be pumping waves.
During the finals Mavericks looked like my local big wave spot, Queenscliff Bombora, during high tide on a dropping swell. A Swellnet commenter asked why the competitors were doing "the Huntington Hop," on their ten foot boards, bouncing up and down to connect the barely-capping outside reef with the inside ledge. If Slater were there he would've ridden a 5'11"
Two days before Swellnet left for a work trip to South Australia's Yorke Peninsula a 4.5 metre white shark was spotted in local waters. It was a reminder that while Western Australia may be making a run for the title, South Australia is still the heavyweight champion of the shark world. It also served as a sharp reminder to keep your wits when in South Australian waters
If we believe our own mythology, surfing has always been riddled with drugs. These days we probably don't deviate very much from the national average for our demographic profile, but that is hardly the point. We have all seen the damage both to the well known and the unknown and would like to reduce it. These are not statistics, these are those whose skills we admire, these are our friends and family. We give a shit and would like to convert that feeling into something more than sentimental, self-indulgent emotionalism.
At the base of Damion Fuller's Board Collector blog is the motto: "Buy high, sell low, enjoy the ride." It's an excellent summation of the values Damion, an industrial designer by trade, adheres to when indulging his old fibreglass obsession. Rather than merely hoarding boards Damion has an express purpose - a method in his board collecting madness - and it's certainly not financial gain.
Somewhere in southern China a T-shirt has been printed that will never grace a human torso. Made just last week it will be destroyed this weekend, unceremoniously dumped in a bin somewhere on the North Shore along with other items of clothing sporting the same hopeful slogan.
'Slater 12 in 2012' or 'Parko World Champ At Last'.
