Closing Time

This morning I stared blankly as the pineapple and sugar cane fields of Oahu raced past my passenger seat window, under the watchful eye of the stars of the Northern Hemisphere.

My Hawaiian adventure was over and I was on my way to catch the 9AM express flight to Somewhere Else.

In the past month I have paddled over the shoulder of second reef pipe bombs and stared into their golden green violent vortexes. I have surfed Waimea Bay, I was a board caddy in the Triple Crown, I body surfed thumping shorebreaks.

I got barreled at backdoor and Rocky Point, I broke boards, I witnessed drama and injury and fights and triumph. I partied in Honolulu, I made new friends and reignited old friendships. I surfed with World Champions and I surfed with hero’s. I nearly got my ass kicked. I ate sushi and Mexican and fresh pineapple and coconut.

I’ve had an amazing month.

Will I come back? Time and bank accounts will tell the answer to that question, and the world is a very big place, with hundreds of places I still have to surf. Still, I think that something about Hawaii got under my skin. It could have been the beauty, or the weather. Maybe it was the consistent waves, or the awesome power of the surf. Maybe it was the warm Pacific ocean, or maybe it was just Ted’s Bakery.

Those parts of Hawaii will not be easily forgotten, and are haunting me even now, in the departure lounge.

It’s funny, because the perfect song played for us on the radio this morning. I can’t remember who sings it, but it has one of those catchy chorus lines that doesn't let up, no matter how much other music you listen to to try and make it wash away:

“Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.”

That familiar roar of jet engines outside is telling me it’s time for a new beginning.

When does a surf trip end?

I think that trips end at different times for different people. Its one of those things that only surfers really understand I guess, because we all have our own rituals and habits (Jeez, that brings back memories of those old Instinct posters, with quotes from Shaun and Barton on them... anyway...).

For some, surftrips end at the airport, when they check in for their flights. For others it's that final, last moment when those mighty Boeing engines kick in and the plane hurtles down the runway, onwards and upwards. Thats really the ending, when you can’t catch any more waves, and you’re packed and done, and the trip is physically over.

Other people swear that it ends before that for them, when they drop a mate at the airport. They reckon that when the first one of your crew leaves, the adventure ends. Because that’s when you know your time is limited, and you start making all of the final preparations to go home. Mentally, your surf trip is done.

For me, the trip always ends earlier than that, and it always ends at the same time. For me it's when I catch my last wave at my favourite spot that I’ve travelled to. That’s always the moment when I know it’s finished.

You know that moment, it’s the last barrel, or the last turn, it’s when you kick onto the shoulder and think “That’s what I came here for,” and it can happen 5 days before you go home, or 15 minutes before.

That moment happened to me 2 days ago here in Hawaii. I was out at Sunset on a pushing swell and was ridiculously undergunned on my 6’3”, thanks to a photographer mate who told me that it was 4 feet, when it was actually nearly double that. To catch some waves, I migrated to the Boneyards bowl, which is normally a little more controlled than the West Peak. Two hours into my surf a wedging bowl came my way and doubled up on the reef. I have never paddled so hard for a wave, and as it drained off the reef, I crouched and slid into it, keeping every centimetre of rail in the thick, steep face to set a line before standing straight up in the tube, right arm raised over my head. I stood in the barrel for a long time, and Paul Patterson paddled over the shoulder staring in, hooting and hollering.

As I rode onto the shoulder from that tube, I knew that I had got what I went to Hawaii for, and I looked to the sky and said thank you.

Of course, there have been other clues that this trip is winding down too. I took Corey to the airport, where he was wheelchaired into the queue while I carried his boards. We cleaned our rented house because we have to move out, and Dave and Ant and Jacob are long gone. The crew who I shared all of this with have dispersed to California, London, Cape Town, Durban and Brisbane.There are still waves to be surfed, and final preparations to be completed before I pack my boardbag and get ready for the long flight home too, but it kind of feels like my brain left Hawaii when I came out of that tube at Sunset.

Because we all love to have the latest gossip

I don't think that anyone gossips as much as surfers. Our sport remains on the cutting edge of technology with images and movies beamed around the world in milliseconds from our compitions - letting our bored cubicle buddies sip their coffee and pretend to be working while they secretly watch the action at J Bay -yet, as a culture, we rely mostly on word of mouth.

Just think how many times you've asked some random guy with a surfboard how the waves were, and then told him that you had good waves at the same spot a few weeks ago on the Easterly swell, in the morning.

Like he cares.

But really, he does. Because in surfing, information is power, and knowledge is paramount to getting good, uncrowded waves. From these small discussions about surf rose the surfer's penchant for gossip - which makes our conversations about waves and sandbanks just a little bit more exciting.

With that in mind, here's the latest:
It looks like Jordy will not surf Pipeline because of the hip injury that he sustained in the Sunset contest. The big question is, will he get an injury wildcard for next year? And we all care because a no show at this stage of the game almost certainly sinks him. He will only miss one event, however, which weighs against him getting the wildcard.
Damien Fahrenfort has torn ligaments in his ankle on a wipeout at Pipe, and will not be surfing for four weeks. It looks like he and Jordy will be heading to California soon, to escape "The Rock."
Bobby Martinez has left His main sponsor, Reef Brazil, after a fight with one of the main guys at Reef.
Target (USA's Mr Price) are waving big money at Quiksilver team rider Dane Reynolds. Like really big money. And with Quiksilver USA cutting back across the board, he might be a little more interested than he would have before the financial crisis...

Now go and get some good waves. If you don't, at least you have something to talk about in the car on the way to the beach.

Avalon

“Remember the boy next door that played records all day, and at night kept you up with songs of his own?

He left home one day and was never heard from again. He moved to the big city, living in cheap motels, eating dollar hamburgers, working the boulevard with ex-models, thorazine freaks, transvestites, mothers, fathers, drunks, junkies and punk rockers alike.

He struggled during many long lonely desperate nights under the dizzying city lights but made a vow that he would never forget the magic in this world of the things he loved the most: his first fix, his first girl and most importantly the first time he rocked a mic.

Mickey Avalon has done whatever it took to get him to and off Hollywood Blvd. to invite you into his world. And I guess that’s what it is, his world…”

That’s what the website said at least. And Mickey was in town last night rocking at The Pipeline Café with The Pricks and Beardo. Our day evolved from sundowners on the beach to hamburgers and the next thing I know we were hurtling into Honolulu, hip hop banging and beers flowing in the party bus.

In case you’ve been sleeping, yesterday was a landmark day on the North Shore, celebrations were in order and Mickey’s gig was the celebration of choice. We arrived too late to catch the support acts and from his first song Mickey had the crowd rocking out, all the way to his closing track:

“My dick don't fit down the chimney
Your dick is like a kid from the Philippines
My dick is like an M16
Your dick- broken vending machine…”

You get the picture I guess.

We were on the dancefloor, pretty close to the stage, but up on our left was where you wanted to be: in the VIP section. There, pro surfers and icons were surrounded by groupies blond and beautiful, every one of them. There the pro’s had free vodka’s and Red Bulls, while we paid 130 Rand for 3 beers. There the pro’s were invited onto stage to hang with Mickey. And while Mickey was doing his thing, and his supporting strippers on stage were doing theirs, and Beardo, Mickey’s Frank Zappa lookalike friend was doing his, I realised something.

The North Shore of Hawaii is a scene driven by VIP passes, by who you know and what you can organise.

If you are on the inside and in the clique, it is the finest place on the world. You stay in your sponsor’s beach house, you are invited to every party, you have your choice from hundreds of girls every night, you get to go back stage at the concerts. You live la vida loca. It is the place where surf stardom becomes rock stardom- guitars replaced by boards.

And here surfers in the clique are rockstars, just like Bruce and Andy Irons who were on stage last night, spanking Mickey’s stripper dancers and singing the chorus. Flying and stumbling and happy and bumbling.

Outside of the clique, you surf for 3 hours and catch 4 waves. Outside of the clique you get your towel washed away by rogue setwaves on the beach, because you have no beach house to leave it at. Outside of the clique you pay too much for everything. Outside of the clique, you get your surf gear stolen by ice addicts, you get beaten up and photographers don’t want you to catch waves because it means that a pro won’t be in their frame. Outside of the clique you are either a fan or a witness, you get dropped in on and you have to work harder than anywhere else just to catch waves.

I am sure it will all be different after the contests, and that in February things might relax a little, but in the meantime, it’s pretty fun to be in Mickey’s world. Just ask Bruce Irons.

The aftermath

The celebration is over, I think. At least until tonight.

Yesterday was one for the record books. A day for the memory banks, a day to be remembered and recorded, a day that will live forever in celluloid and print – or at least until the next swell…

My mouth is furry and my head is dull, the surf is empty today and the streets feel deserted. The scaffolding is being torn down at Sunset, the World Cup of Surfing T-shirts are on discount sale, and the ASP World Qualifying Series has finished for 2008. The ocean is angry, and the clouds are galleons, sailing sluggishly over the Oahu mountains, rain their only cargo, the sticky humidity feeding them fuller, feeding them fatter.

Even Ted's is closed.

We are in the aftermath of one of the best early season days of the past 10 years - one that had veteran photographers calling Pipeline as perfect as it gets.

We are in the wake of one of the best contest days that Sunset has ever seen, and up and down the North Shore surfers are resting, repairing and regrouping. Journalists are dispatching their tales of drama and courage, and photographers are teasing editors with watermarked slide shows.

Whoever you are, if you surf, your year was defined yesterday. You will see yesterday for the whole year as brands feature their riders in their ad campaigns. You will gasp and froth at the video footage. You will watch your heroes who made it onto the WCT duel in Tahiti, J-Bay, Mundaka, Cloudbreak and everywhere else that the dream tour takes them. You too will bear witness.

The highlights reel looks like this:

At the O Neill World Cup of Surfing at Sunset, Dave Weare and Greg Emslie both requalified for the WCT at Sunset, confirming their status as South African surfing legends.

The top 15 of the WQS was decided yesterday and the 2009 WCT will be blessed with exceptional talent and a new guard of pro’s.

Jordy Smith cemented his reputation as the most exciting surfer in the world by ripping and tearing Sunset beach to reach the final of the contest with ease, throwing away 8 point rides on the way there and scoring the only 10 point ride of the day, and the highest heat score too. In the final he opened with a massive wave, an angry chunk of the Pacific Ocean bent on destruction. He made the drop but couldn’t get around the white water, was twisted underwater and hurt his right hip. He bailed the next set and his leash broke. His luck had run out.

The injury requires an MRI scan, happening today, and we wait patiently and hope that nothing serious has happened to South Africa’s boy wonder.

And of course CJ Hobgood won the contest.

At the day of the year at Pipeline, Liam McNamara caught the biggest wave of the day, backdooring a second reef bomb at Pipeline that you could easily have parked a double decker bus inside of. He stood tall, proud, arrogant, as the barrel vortex spun around him, a building in a tumble dryer.

Shane Dorian continued to amaze with his impeccable positioning and composure in the jaws of the beast, and after 2 days of incredible Pipeline emerged with the best barrels of the swell. On his last wave of the morning session yesterday, Dorian took off on a right, and drove hard with his back leg to get his line. His back fin and side fin snapped straight off with the combined force of Backdoor and back foot, sending him careening over the falls onto barely submerged reef.

Myself, Rudy Pamboom and about 70 other surfers had the bad luck of getting caught under a 15 foot second reef bomb. Underwater, above the roar of the massive white water, all you could hear was the snap and crack of leashes and surfboards. 12 boards in total were broken by the 2 wave set, and about 30 leashes.

Damien Fahrenfort landed on the reef straight onto his injured right ankle, and will be getting x-rayed for fractures today. He will not be surfing for a minimum of a few weeks, and we wish him a speedy recovery.

And of course countless surfers got the barrels of their lives.

The drama, anxiety and hype set with the sun yesterday, and up and down the North Shore, bass boomed and beer flowed. For the WQS surfers, and followers of the WQS, the year is over, and at last we can start having some fun.