WESTERN AUSTRALIA

The thing I love about living in Western Australia is its vastness. Having scoured its coastlines for over three and a half decades, with the aid of a new toy (a wee little Zodiac bought for tow- in foiling) the doors have opened to areas of that I’d previously been to, but never had the means of accessing. Until now. 

Words  Scott McKercher  //  Photos  SMIK

The thing about such vastness, is you have two coastlines facing different directions which work on opposing weather systems. Meaning, when one is on the other is off, and it can involve quite a bit of driving to be in sync to catch the elusive offshore.  In Autumn especially, you could either score gold, or be dumb outta luck when a large winter system comes though that wipes out all options. Wesley Fry, previously from Western Australia but now transplanted to the East coast, was coming home for the Rottnest Island Classic. I had a new step up board I wanted him to try, along with collaborating on another journalistic endeavor while he was in the vicinity (with a limited window i.e. one week). So, the best plan to assure scoring conditions was to not have a plan at all. We waited until the last minute as to where to go on our next little adventure, so as not to lock ourselves into somewhere that wasn’t happening. Last year’s trip to Sumbawa was so lucky with the arrival of the swell while we were there, that I couldn’t count on such blessedness twice in a row. Ultimately however, this is how everyone’s vacations should be coordinated. If you’re into chasing waves, you have to be flexible and in flow mode.  If WA was stormy and windblown and sending swell up to Indo, we’d be jumping on a plane (blessed that Indo is only be three hours away from WA). However if WA was offshore, we’d stick around and chase locally (coz indo would be flat).

The thing was, I had one of those funny premonition sensations when I heard a song for the first time by Laurel. I just visualized how perfectly it suited our south coast and had an inkling it was going to be a weather map for down there.  Lo and behold… Monday was still offshore on the west coast, but Tuesday it was going north, meaning a green light for south coast. Wessy ended up winning the comp and we had a few beers to celebrate, but unlike years previous where it got a bit messy, everyone had made travel plans to depart on the Sunday.  Fortunately for us as it panned out his way or we would have missed happy Monday.

Once we regained equilibrium in preparation for living on boats over the days ahead, we were packed and headed to my pad in Margaret River. There was still a bit of east in the wind and plenty of swell, so that was the call for day one. We got in pretty late so it would be a civilized start, even though my local frothing mate Paul sounded a little disappointed that we weren’t going to be down at The Point pre-dawn. 

But we were “in sync” and whilst we were snug in our own beds, Paul was standing looking at a cold, wind-blown line up, with the offshore way too strong to contemplate. So, by the time our leisurely wake up, coupla coffees and breaky were done, the breeze was starting to ease up.  

It can get pretty busy on certain days, but this turned into one of the special ones where the conditions aligned yet the hordes stayed away. It was Paul and Wes at first and then the only ones to join were Old Mate Cory, his mate Kylie and another local fella Adrian. There might have been one other surfer out as well, but for the conditions that transpired, there was pretty much no one out. It’s usually blowing from some direction or another at some point during the day, and it never stays glassy long – and this day was no exception. The howling offshore was too windy to surf till it backed off giving way to a glassy period before the usual onshore fluffs up the place. But that transition period was oh so lovely. Obviously, Corey paddled out exactly as the wind hit champagne hour, as he has the uncanny knack of doing. With plenty waves under the belt, we were pretty much done and my mind was already starting to drift further around the coast. 

We might have stopped in at one of the local craft breweries on the way home, but it was early to bed that night with a 5am departure for the field trip to the south coast. It’s one of the most beautiful drives going with the tallest of timber forests making the meandering road through undulating paddocks and derelict farms such a pleasure. You just have to be careful in the pre-dawn light, as the ‘roos can be pretty active south of town in the early morning. Having hit a few, without a ‘roo bar, you just wouldn’t consider driving in this area at this time of day.  I was a little nervous as we were popping in and out of cloud banks all the way across, but as we made the coast it was wall to wall blue sky.

Close but no Cigar
On a previous mission to these parts we’d be shown the way by Luc Longley (former professional basketball player with the Chicago Bulls in the Jordan era). Luc now calls this coast home and I was literally blown away: the island, cliffs and crystal water, let alone the left handers peeling around a reef into a sand bottom bay, it was surreal and something I’d been hoping to experience again for a while.

There’s some pretty gnarly four wheel driving along the track, even before getting down onto extremely soft sand on the beach. The fact we were heading in unassisted had me a little concerned as the last time my mate’s 200 series Land Cruiser was bogged to axels. Along with the fact my truck isn’t exactly new and just before we arrived it started developing this unnerving whistling sound when accelerating; that didn’t exactly instill me with confidence either. 

So with tires let way down to counter the boggy track, she got us through the first section relatively ok. Catching sight of the ocean, majestic cliffs and island, we were getting pretty dang excited as it was perfectly offshore and there were waves. I felt Laurel’s song, my intuition and all the previous moment had lined up to bring us here.

However! As we approached the last section to go down onto the beach, a sign came into view: ‘Beach Closed’. Not due to sharks which has been happening a fair bit back in Marg’s of late, but due to high tides and an eroded beach. Looking down I could see exactly what they were talking about. The beach was a quarter of the size of what it once was and looking extremely dubious with really soft sand on a steep gradient and high tide still two hours away. If you got bogged here you were a long way from help, so I was definitely erring on side of caution. Especially with my old beater truck. I grabbed the drone to go have a look on the other side of the island and we saw a pretty sweet looking left reel though into the bay but it just wasn’t worth the risk, so we had to turn around with our tail between our legs and resort to plan B, further along the coast. Plan B wasn’t exactly slumming it, although with this section of the beach being far easier to access, we pulled up to bay squadron of 4WD’s already parked up. But it’s a long beach with multiple peaks so there’s plenty of room to find one peak for yourself. We got a few but the pristine conditions didn’t last long and the wind changed direction and started picking up, so it was time to look elsewhere. At the time we were a tad disappointed not get what we came for, but in hindsight, how can you be, when you get to cruise around in such an un-spoilt landscape? The thing about the south coast is, it’s fickle. It’s a massive coast line with all kinds of bays, facing a multitude of different directions, with sand movement being constant. So with tides, waves can come and go within the hour and you just have to be on the pulse.  

We checked into a little caravan park camping ground type place with a boat launch into the estuary to get to the river mouth where a particular reeling point break occurs. Infamous as the location where a lot of shark sightings have occurred, it is also the loose reference for one of the scenes from Tim Winton’s book (later made into a movie), “Breathe”.

The lovely lady who runs the park got all animated once she realized we were surfing and wondered if we were there to surf “The Right”, and I assured the lady we wanted absolutely nothing to do with that beast of a wave, which is reserved for the hellest of hell men. She seemed to feed on the excitement of when that wave turns on as all the skis would launch from out the front of her place. My little zodiac was purchased as the addiction of tow foil-boarding got a grip. However, there were two other reasons why it was such a necessary, luxury item. And this river mouth was one I’d only ever been to once, and it was amazing.  Someone who had a little tinny (small aluminum boat) took me there and it’s literally been over 25 years since I’d been back. Think Kirra or Superbank and you’re talking about what I have memories of.  That arvo, we knew it wasn’t going to be on, but it was just stunning to be on the water. Basically, any time spent on the water doing anything, is time well spent as far as I’m concerned. 

The next day’s forecast was a long period swell that although not large, showed potential.  But alas, didn’t transpire. We had a look, it was cloudy and enough to whip Wes into a few on the foil, but nothing to write home about. Where one day the south coast is azure blue and paradise, can the next be cloudy and eerie with every patch of seaweed transforming into a 5m great white. 

So that was pretty much it for our little south coast adventure, short and surely sweet, and maybe slightly unfulfilled.  There was still a couple of days before Wes had to piss off back to the East coast so we headed up to a little island off the coast North of Perth where there was a longboard comp.  Dropping Wes off at the airport, we said our goodbyes (with one board being bravely checked in without a board bag) and were already talking about the next mission, which is always a pleasure with young Wes as he’s such a cruisy character who surfs so well and we generally just have a ball. We were fairly satisfied that we’d made the most of what the conditions had to offer, even if that one jewel of the south didn’t present itself. Perhaps protecting itself . ^{SUP International}