For The Love Of The Wave

I have, over the past year, discovered a new passion. Something that has me completely undone. Something that has me climbing the walls because it has gotten me so stoked I can't live without it. This sailor girl has moved onto a slightly smaller vessel than a yacht...a surfboard. It all started one cold grey day in July 2009 when my mate Chelle and I were in Raglan. Despite our better judgement and slightly hungover, we decided to go surfing. I had bronchitis and really shouldn't have been anywhere near the water but we thought, to hell with it, lets do it. Chelle was already a surfer and took me out to teach me on her 7"4 mal. We walked down the massive hill at Wainui Beach and after briefly going over the basics of surfing and safety we got in. The water was so cold it burned. Our lungs felt like they were on fire and our skin went bright red, with slight tinges of purple. After about 20 minutes of thrashing around in wild west coast surf and no longer able to feel our hands and feet, we decided it was probably time to see sense and get out. We trudged back up the massive hill, nauseated from the cold, quite possibly mildly hypothermic and still very much hungover. But I was hooked. I loved it. And it was a love affair that would only increase as I kept surfing.

After many surfs I still remember that first surf in Raglan, the first time a wave properly picked me up at Piha, the perfect crisp autumns day surfing back in Raglan where I somehow (god only knows how) managed to catch a wave sitting, yes sitting, on the board, and the many many times we have sat in silence just watching, gazing at the wild, wind blown waves of New Zealands west coast.

But most of all, I remember the surf in Omaha. Chelle had just got a new board, a 6"9 fish and we had driven to Piha to christen it, but Piha was an absolute shit fight. Lumpy custard. So we got in the car and drove to Omaha in an attempt to see if the east coast was a bit cleaner and more surfable. It was little, 2-3ft and breaking close. But we figured, why not - lets just get in and have some fun. We paddled out, caught a couple of small white wash waves and ended up just sitting on our boards at the back of the break under a perfect blue sky looking out at Great Barrier. We swapped boards and I had a go on the fish. We now had a small crowd of people watching us. Every now and then a bigger set would come through, breaking further out and I started getting amongst it. On my first east coast surf, my first time on a short board, I caught my first breaking wave. I will never forget the feeling of dropping down the face of that 3-4ft glassy wave at late afternoon in Omaha, thinking for a split second I was gonna die then realising I was still going - still on the board and flying. I was flying! The was white foam boiling around me, carrying me towards the shore. I was so stoked I was beside myself. I was yelling at Chelle as I paddled furiously back out - "Oh my god did you see that Chelle?! Did you see that?! Oh my god that was amazing! Did you see that?!" Chelle just laughed when I finally paddled back out to her and said "Yeh mate, you're surfing in the impact zone now". Wow.

I kept going, catching wave after wave as the sun began to set. In between each ride we'd sit on our boards at the back of the break buzzing out over the amazing view - golden sunset hues reflecting off a glassy mirror like sea with Great Barrier on the horizon. It was perfect. Absolutely perfect. After 2 hours in the water in the middle of winter, we finally conceded defeat from the cold and got out. Nothing could wipe the smile off my face. I was surf stoked.




This image is googled.