surf porn
There isn’t a surfer on the east coast who doesn’t know what’s happening out there today, or happened yesterday, or the day before – lines upon lines – corduroy to the horizon – six foot, eight foot, TEN foot!
So, a fellow walks down onto the sand at Lighthouse beach this morning and stops to watch a couple of big, unridden, fast bowling, long and looping lefts breaking all the way down the beach from Speedies. No-one out. If it was anywhere else there would be hundreds out there fighting for them.
Then, this old fellow who had to give away surfing aged about 70 because of a multitude of reasons made the mistake of engaging with one of the clubbies on beach patrol. Big young bloke he was, shoulders too wide to fit into a double doorway, salt-encrusted hair, a little chipped around the eyes from squinting into the sun. A smile acid wouldn’t remove.
‘Been out?’ The old lad asked.
Good question.
‘Broken early yesterday,’ the young bloke said, ‘off the Rock, six foot, wide open, big streaking barrels. Then came back this way via Lennox, lines as far as I could see so I had to whip out there for an hour or two and pinch a couple off the locals which wasn’t enough so it’s back into the car and slip around to Boulder after lunch. I love that wave like I do me Mum and half the mob out there were Q’landers so it was easy to get inside and pinch anything I wanted. So good I hit it again at dark this morning, had it to meself for an hour before anyone else got out.
He stopped there to watch some goose who had swum out too far being taken away by the sweep. Waited for another clubby to paddle out and retrieve him.
He went on.
‘You wouldn’t believe how good Sharpes was looking on the way back here. Clean, fast, hollow. A bloke is almost running out of wax with all this stuff going on.’
‘Had enough yet?’
He looked at me like I was from another country then we both mind-surfed another couple of steam-rollers power on through Speedies, still no-one out.
‘Fuck,’ he goes, ‘a bloke should get someone to take him out there on the ducky when the breeze backs off.’
Shelly pic lifted from Coastalwatch
petebowes.com 
And you didn’t even wet your ankles ya big wussy?
Just a bit o mind surfin eh? Ya could have done that from the comfort of your bed mate. On that note, what happened? Did she kick you out for letting one rip from the udder end?
I bet it took her an hour to fill that bloody divet you left in the mattress after you felt her warm wrinkled foot on your back. She must have legs like a horse! And don’t say “NAY”!
I bet you are stoked to be shot of Sydney and the bollocks created by that hag with the unpronounceable name!
And before you respond yes I know there are two “bet” s in the sentences above, There are also two “I”s. But no bet 365s!
How is ya you grizzled old walrus?
Well, whaddya know? Someone told me that you went mad and the coppers shot you.
The other day I was walking down the main boulevard in Ballina when a bloke I didn’t know pulled me up and asked if I lived up Federal way. When I went home and told the little lady she laughed, said it wasn’t surprising seeing I was barefoot at the time and wearing a pair of board shorts bought for $5 in Newcastle fifteen years ago, also unshaven and two months overdue for a haircut and wearing an old McConaghy T for the fifth day (and night) in a row,
That’s how I’m going old veteran .. same as always, drinking hard liquor, smoking illegal substances, reading thick books, wearing rags, chinwagging with the town desperates, going to Mass on Sundays, writing bullshit and every time I see a log washed up on the beach I dig a deep hole and stand the bastard up in it. Got quite the little forest going now …
Good to hear from you, you horrible old bastard, there should be more like you.
Well, I am glad to see that you haven’t changed jot!
Talking of coppers I am back at the halls of learning and finishing a law degree that I started before the internet, Boeing 747s, Tom Carroll’s first world championship title, airbags, dogs on leashes, women who have become men, men who have become women, humans that have become things, and when $1.15 would get you a schooner of something yellowish with bubbles in it!
Once I am through these current exams I will see how you are placed and we will share a bottle of something – also yellowish, and don’t worry I hate the medical profession so it wont be “that”!
There is a Vinnies near me so I will stop by and get you a pair of clodhoppers which will be appropriate for a bloke stomping illicit logs delivered from illicit derriers into holes in the sand for other people to enjoy at an inappropriate moment.
What size are yea? And don’t give me your IQ again. Vinnies don’t sell shoes for kids!
I’ve got a better idea. We’ll go into partnership and you can do the legals for whoever I can sign up for accounting services using my Speculataro Locoweed Version 3:567 self balancing three layer deep tax avoiding asset enhancing liability cancelling self administering full colour spreadsheets dancing girls included and full membership to the Sheraton Oyster bar’s private rooms. And I don’t do shoes. You don’t speak Thai by chance do you? There are some opportunities on the northwest border up there. I know a bloke who knows a bloke.
Well I noticed that your Speculataro Locoweed Version is missing a “4”. I guess it went to the bottom of the harbour with those other schemes.
I have some of those spreadsheets with asset enhanced dancing girls that you almost wrote about. I think it has been hacked as I am not partial to enhanced saddlebags nor leaky waterjackets.
I haven’t worn a Thai in ages – at least not since the last doze.
Just kidding. Can’t believe Don is still putting it down at Realsurf, and Roger ..
Maaaaaatttttteeeee,
When you have enjoyed a few trips around the revolving doors of life you quickly identify people.
Were those two ever right?
What always gets me is when people purport to be something that they are not. Generally, like any sheep, I don’t mind being fleeced, but I dislike others profiting from my fleecing if all I get out of it is less of everything.
Sure, sure. It will grow back!
Tell that to my wallet. For years, I have been looking for that giant who sold Jack his beanstalks to see if I could get any of those money tree seeds.
But, I will say one thing. Those days when we ruled the roost there….. what we were allowed to put in print were some of the funniest things that have ever been put into print anywhere.
They were the days when Australia held onto its past. Now its passed!
Times when a bloke or a chick could say what he thought without some moron calling the cops, doxing ya, or raising the dead of leftwing nutjob nerds that we used to throw down the embankment on the way to school on particularly wet days.
Its all revenge of the nerds mate. Revenge of the fckn nerds. People who weren’t worth talking to then and aren’t now. People that deserved the derision they got. Four-eyed, out of shape pale skinned dipsticks with hidden perversion. People now calling the shots!
I’ll never knock Don .. but there were a few others worth a serve.
You show me a good set and I will show you a great pair of knockers.
As with everything Walrus, people lose their purity for a myriad of reasons.
You and I are still prickly buggers. We wouldn’t sell ourselves out to or for anyone.
In the words of the inimitable Burt Lancaster when talking about himself in the movie “Tough Guys”, “the best things in life never change”.
Its a credo worth every detriment to live by.
Don contacted me once or twice in all that time we were there. Hell I had dudes everywhere on the planet reading Stuey’s Japan report. There were e-mails from people who had come to Sydney and returned home all over the globe every morning in my inbox. I even had a meet Stuey night in Tokyo that had maybe 60 people turn up to meet a garden gnome dressed as me. Whatever Don wrote to me was so consequential that I don’t remember a thing.
A simple thank you might have been ok, but anyway they were different days, and when you live outside the rules you are going to see things differently.
There were lots of good people on that site that got shafted by the way things were handled, but perhaps the dudes who ran the joint were ahead of the times! Sydney is now a leftwing festival of freaks with hardly a soul having the guts to call themselves Australian.
I miss lots of those people. There were lots of people that seemed to be really worth knowing – even from 11000km away.
I haven’t looked at the site for a long time. The last time I looked I nearly puked at the commentary. Everyone is in the same box. Tip tip tippy toes. You need to be a ballerina to go there now! tehehehehhehehe
What was your shoesize again?
‘Speculataro Locoweed Version 3:567 self balancing three layer deep tax avoiding asset enhancing liability cancelling self administering full colour spreadsheets’ – do you still have that pirated copy of Javelin loaded up on Windows 95 in the back room?
Plus the manual … class act, that software.