the hat and the beard
surfers are a primitive race
Sep 20
byron bay, hollywood, batshit and bicycle seats
Byron Bay, part of the Paradise Nation where all is love and gentleness and the giving out of good vibes.
party etiquette in the early sixties
These were the times we lived in, when surfing relationships were both inter-generational and intricately intertwined in an atmosphere of mutual trust and understanding.
problems pertaining to the early surfing years in australia
Surfing in the 50's and 60's was a fraught business
things we never did
various conditions and rules that govern a man's enjoyment of the waves
The ten mistakes that sunk the Titanic
This is the name of a show on TV tonight. Channel something or other, prime time. Two men in the bar of the Ballina Slipway watching, Jack and Les. Trawlermen. Hard nuts. Rum drinkers. 200kg of prawns inside the local co-op freezer all paid up in full. Crew happy. Back out there in the morning, 4am. Engine spewing carbon monoxide, cables full of rust, boat leaking black oil like an old man with prostrate, everyone thieving on the grounds, prawns full of Richmond River mud, wives doing their housekeeping cold at the RSL, bank muscling in on the home mortgage, sons on the hydro, more demerits than Einstein’s IQ, twenty-five letters from the tax man unopened, credit card burnt, synoptic full of low-pressure onions, the bar breaking at fifteen feet and an ocean that doesn’t love you anymore.
‘Ten? Says Les, ‘fuckers never saw the iceberg, so what are the other nine?’
hobbs and raffan 3
It was said in those days, if you were to fly a helicopter along that long stretch of coastline at night, you would mistake the torches seen on the darkened beaches to be almost as many as stars in the sky.
