The person that had the greatest influence on my early surfing life was not someone from a poster on my wall, but a local icon from the south coast. Damo turned up in town when I was 14 – back in the homeland after five years of gallivanting the globe with his surfboard under arm. As far as I was concerned, he was a blow-in. I’d never seen him in the surf before, and I was out there every bloody day! I’d paddled out into a rough and slightly daunting overhead line-up. Stroking into an ugly looking right-hander, I heard someone yell: Goooo giiiiiiirl! I went, where I might have pulled back otherwise, and that set the precedent for our friendship. Damo was 27 then, and wanted to start a business coaching intermediate groms. As such, me and my mate Mitch became his guinea pigs. It was a hoot. We’d pile into his Troopy of an afternoon, do the routine surf check, before suiting up and hurtling into the line-up. Damo would join us often, between filming from the sand, forever goading us to go bigger and deeper, teaching by example, with his signature style of calculated recklessness. He tutored us in and out of the water: when we got our L-plates, we’d take turns getting behind the wheel of the troopy, Damo barking instructions from the passenger seat. Later he took me and three mates (two girls and two guys – all of us 16 years-old) to Indo on a three-week surf trip. The itinerary: G-land, Roti, Bali. A swell hit while we were in G-land. A big one. And we were out there, adrena- lin levels through the roof. I was scared shitless, navigating Speedies on my backhand, but at that time I’d have preferred to kiss the reef than chicken out in Damo’s company. That swell sent my mate and I panic-paddling for the horizon several times – wide eyed and gobsmacked, wondering whether this was goodbye. We left having copped a few memorable beatings, with minor reef gashes and having surfed some of the gnarliest waves of our lives. Next stop was Roti, an island off West Timor. This was a lesson in cheap and immersive travel. For a higher price you could take the fast boat from Kupang, which got you to Roti in a few hours. Damo booked us onto the slow boat, the … Read more

FOR THE THREE YEARS BETWEEN GREG LONG’S FIRST AND SECOND BIG WAVE WORLD TITLES HE HAD BEEN SUFFERING THE MENTAL TRAUMAS OF HIS NEAR-DROWNING AT CORTES BANK. AFTER LETTING GO, LISTENING TO HIMSELF AND LEARNING TO ENJOY THE MOMENT, IT WAS A SINGLE WAVE THIS YEAR AT JAWS WHEN LONG KNEW HE HAD FINALLY OVERCOME THE GREATEST CHALLENGE TO HIS LOVE OF SURFING BIG WAVES AND THEREFORE HIS LIFE. “I paddled out and it was terrifying, it was the biggest, most windiest and most dangerous we’d ever paddled Jaws,” Greg Long tells Tracks. “I sat by myself way outside and the first wave that came through was giant. I looked up at it and there wasn’t a single thought that I didn’t want to be there. I said to myself, ‘this is your wave, go’.” In that split second when instinct overcame thought, Long knew he had finally overcome one of the greatest challenges of his life. With that conviction, with that complete lack of hesitation, one chapter of his big wave surfing career had closed, and a new one had opened. Greg was back, both in mind and body, to be the big wave surfer, and person, he truly wanted to be. “The difference between this Big Wave World Title and my first one is massive,” Long told Tracks a week after he claimed his second title. “The last win came on the heels of my accident at Cortes Bank and I was in a really weird headspace.” LONG’S 50 FOOT RIDE TO REDEMPTION IN THE PEAHI CHALLENGE LAST YEAR. PHOTO SERVAIS. In 2012 Long suffered blunt trauma injuries and nearly drowned after a three-wave hold-down at the big wave spot located 100 miles off the coast of California. He was found unconscious, floating face down in the water. It was only the quick action of his safety team and paramedics that saved his life. The footage of Greg lying on the boat, barely conscious, coughing up blood and water from his lungs is the graphic and disturbing reality of just how close to death he was. Afterwards he described it as a non-fatal drowning, and although he recovered relatively quickly physically, the mental scars have lingered. “In 2012 I surfed those competitions just a few months later and I wasn’t enjoying my surfing at all. I wasn’t having any fun and it was a time of immense stress,” … Read more

After days spent winding up in the Pacific like some kind of macabre spinning top, Tropical Cyclone Winston reached Category 5 intensity on the 19th of February before performing a fateful U-turn and setting its sights on the island nation of Fiji. First to be hit was Vanua Balavu in the Lau group where wind gusts of 306 km/h were recorded, the main island of Viti Levu shortly after. The damage was severe, and tragically 44 people would lose their lives. Nearly 55,000 homes were damaged or destroyed and approximately 40 percent of Fiji’s population are thought to have been impacted by the storm. Some 4500km away, surfers on the east coast of Australia would receive a perverse gift from the storm that took so much from the beautiful people of Fiji. A byproduct of Winston’s power, line upon line of ruler edged swell flooded in, producing someof the best waves in recent memory. From flawless sand-bottom tubes on the Gold Coast to the dark and menacing reefs of the south and everywhere in between, it pumped. Surfers rejoiced while Fijians wept. The following are just a few snapshots of the bitter-sweet swell. If you were lucky enough to experience it yourself, we encourage you to please get online and donate to the Fijian people. A small price to pay for perfection no? “IMAGINE THE PLACE IN YOUR MIND WHERE YOU GO TO COMPLETELY LET GO OF EVERYTHING; REALLY IMAGINE IT. CLOSE YOUR EYES.FINDTHATTRANQUILITY,NOW CAREFULLY PLACE TWO TO THREE HUNDRED FOUR-WHEEL DRIVES IN THERE, AND IMAGINE THEM ALL HOLDING THREE PEOPLE. I DIDN’T TAKE A SINGLE SHOT OF SURFING THIS DAY, I’VE BEEN COMING HERE SINCE I WAS A KID AND IT’S NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE HERE. WHILE I UNDERSTAND THE DESIRE FOR PERFECTION, I ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT SCENARIOS LIKE THIS ARE WHAT TURN PARADISE INTO A WASTELAND.”– WORDS & PHOTO ANDY STALEY “IT WAS REALLY HARD TO TELL IF IT WAS RIDEABLE THIS MORNING BECAUSE THE SWELL WAS STILL TOO STRAIGHT ON SOME. THE STRAIGHT ONES AT THIS WAVE ARE HORRIBLE AND THEY HAVE BEEN RESPONSIBLE FOR SOME PRETTY GNARLY INJURIES.A FEW YEARS BACK, DAMIEN MARTIN (A LOCAL BODYBOARDER WHO CHARGES) BROKE HIS BACK ON ONE. YOU JUST HAVE TO CHOOSE CAREFULLY AND HOPE THEY DON’T TRY AND HURT YOU. MY OLD MAN (PETE TAPLIN) AND WHIP KNOW THE ONES TO PICK WHICH MAKES IT WORTH A TRY. … Read more

Coastlines don’t get much more isolated or breath-taking than on Iceland. Adrift between Northern Europe and Greenland this stunningly beautiful Nordic isle is brimful of natural wonders, adventure opportunities and some surprisingly good surf. The diverse landscape features giant snow-capped mountains, velvet wilderness, dramatic glacier fields and a jaunty number of active volcanoes which steam up thermal lagoons, lakes and pools for alfresco hot-tubbing. You can snowboard down a volcano, dive beneath glaciers, hike inside Europe’s biggest national park, gasp at the Northern Lights and shred long wrapping point breaks with no one out. Maroubra surfer Blake Thornton made the most of the endless sunlight when he toured Iceland in a campervan last summer (our winter) with a bunch of mates whose pastimes include snowboarding, sky-diving, and base-jumping. The boys came looking for “hare-brained, ball-shrinking, National Geographic style adventures” and found plenty. Just piloting their oversize RV down narrow mountain roads looking for waves while dodging brutal Arctic storms proved to be a white knuckle experience. But a worthwhile one. Here’s Blake recalling their first Icelandic session at a Lennox-like point break. “All thoughts about the weather were forgotten as we hit the water at 7.48pm. Needless to say we had the lineup to ourselves and I have never caught so many waves in a session. The excitement was hard to control; I was surfing the kind of rippable, fun waves you’d be stoked to score on an Indo adventure. When my jelly arms couldn’t paddle my 5/4 any more I eventually washed ashore four hours later at 11.47pm, not quite midnight but a good crack nonetheless. In a bizarre demonstration of the local surfing fraternity’s commitment, a lone local rocked up and hit the water after us, assuring us it would get even better at about 2am.” The boys had to work for their waves and on occasion endured brain-freezing discomfort and a giddy little flirt with hypothermia. But what a time! What a place! One of their best surfs took all day and half the night to find. They scoured the coastline, hiked across farmland and down empty beaches and were denied time and again until finally, shortly after midnight on the longest day of the year, they found themselves splitting perfect peaks beneath a snow-cloaked alpine backdrop. The sort of session you never forget, says Blake. “On the 36-hour journey home I would catch myself flashing back … Read more

Surfboard design and architecture have their similarities. Both creative mediums can take classically proven design concepts and marry them with modern technology and new theories to produce something that is radically progressive while still retaining a pointer to the past. This year on the North Shore, riding everything from knifey asymmetric shapes to wide-nosed twin fins with a twist, Ryan Burch, Derek Disney and Bryce Young carved winding tracks into surfing’s alternative future. While the regular Rocky Point aerial set chased lofted dreams on their increasingly refined thrusters these three were on a different sort of trip, one which almost made it seem like they were simultaneously moving forwards and backwards on a surfing time line. Ryan Burch with his twin fin grooveBryce Young drifts into a rocky point chamber Photo: MoranDerek Disney’s backside vogue. Photo Joli Burch had flown in late for a Surfer Poll nomination for best performance in a film for Psychic Migrations. That gong ultimately went to John John but it’s worth noting that style king, Joel Tudor, did make a point of paddling up to me at Sunset and saying, “Have you seen Ryan Burch’s section? It’s pretty sick.” Burch’s last minute fly in set up an impromptu rendezvous with like-minded sliders, Disney and Young, who were staying together at Rocky Point. Burch brought a bunch of his asymmetric boards with him, Bryce already had a few of Ryan’s in his kit, while Disney had made himself a Burch-inspired twin fin that got wider instead of narrower in the tail and was thus dubbed the squid. To an outsider who had rote-learned the conventions of the modern shortboard, this collective quiver looked like Forrest Gump’s famous box of chocolates. If you rode one you never knew what you were going to get However, if the boards looked unorthodox, to anyone hanging out at Rocky Point and Sunset this winter it was clear that this gifted trio sure knew how to ride them. Disney’s clean, precise lines on his squid, Burch’s effortless asymmetrical glide and Young’s anachronistic blend of deep furrowing carves, soul arch stand talls and big old airs pretty much stole the show from the more conventional Rocky’s rippers. Surfing’s great leaps forward often happen when there is confluence of ideas between individuals who find themselves in the same place in a moment in time. And as Burch will attest, Hawaii is still the … Read more

Clay Marzo’s campaign for the title of World’s Best Free Surfer really began a decade ago when the 16-year- old’s breakout performance in Young Guns 2 came close to upstaging Dane Reynolds and Kelly Slater. The gecko grip on his board, his uncanny elasticity and tendency to go straight through lips that others avoided, instantly earned Clay a massive following and the image of an enigmatic virtuoso. Houdini-like barrel-escapes from unrideable waves were soon added to his cache of idiosyncratic tricks. While groms fawned over whatever footage of Marzo they could get their hands on, other pros, boat captains and local icons fuelled the Clay folklore with awestruck tales of how he had taken an unfathomable approach to an established location or previously unridden wave. By all reports, Clay’s approach to this wave during this session redefined the way this wave is surfed. Photo: Riley. However, the no-half-measures, high altitude attack took its toll and by 2011 Clay was recovering from two buckled knees and a crisis of confidence. Come 2012 and his personal issues coincided with economic woes for Quiksilver, the sponsor who’d originally backed him on the strength of a roughly cut, half-minute show reel. When Quiksilver severed ties with Clay, fans openly decried the decision, fearful that the fragile genius would slip away into obscurity without the support of his long-term sponsor. In some respects they were right. Clay embraced his more reclusive instincts, met a girl in Australia and began spending his southern hemisphere winters in the more sparsely populated regions of WA. Despite the sponsorship downgrade, Clay continued to do some of the best surfing in the world – often on isolated stretches of coast with nobody really watching, which was the way he liked it. However, Clay eventually formed a tight bond with the Kalbarri community, particularly photographer Mike Riley and John Barton, the father of his girlfriend. Supported by a new crop of sponsors Clay, now 26, continues to mystify observers with his wizardry. The crew most frequently treated to his displays of embryonic barrel riding and incomprehensible lip attack are his Kalbarri brethren. Over the following few pages both they and Mr Marzo himself talk about the various elements that make Clay one of, if not the, best free surfer in the world. Whats flashy? This waft is. Photo: Riley. John Barton: He’s the best tuberider I’ve seen. I’ve watched a lot … Read more

The Mainland Like some of the best stories, this one began with a whispered rumour of some obscure islands. It sounded a bit tenuous, to be honest. The remoteness and vast distance of the islands from home exacerbated the sense of doubt. However, whereas some rumours degenerate and trail off into apocryphal myth, this one became full-bodied and real. A local guy, Ram, had made contact with legendary photographer, Ted Grambeau, who’d been a long time inspiration for Ram. Not surprisingly, Ted’s typical auto search mission response fired up. He is so well travelled he makes Christopher Columbus seem like a couch potato, and Ram’s delectably dangling carrot was another irresistible mission. We gathered a crew who seemed suited to an honest roll of the dice. For Australian Luke Hynd and Americans, Dillon Perillo and Pat Curren, this would be no easy lob to some overexposed tube festival. Instead, it would be a series of high road/low road gambles; pick a mysterious looking trail and charge it with your mind open and your board under your arm. Soon we were applying for visas to gain entry into a distant, northern land of ancient history and endless tales. The pantheon of deities and mythological beings associated with this huge and colourful country – gateway to our ultimate destination of the Turquoise Island Archipelago – is dizzying. Multi-limbed humanoids; anthropomorphised creatures with animal bodies and human faces; esoteric gods engaged in fantastic conflicts and ancient feuds set against dramatic backdrops of biblical proportions; entities of karmic consequence demanding appeasement in exchange for favourable outcomes. Down on the earthly plane there is also a lot going on. Festivals and celebrations seem to be perpetually happening or upcoming, yet this huge country’s northern borders are in more or less constant dispute, simmering with foment and the vaguely terrifying prospect of conflict with the Islamic warlords of the Middle East. All the same, the coastal town we were staying in was a visual feast, and Ram’s industrious offsider, Kishore, showed us around. The local harbour was studded with beautiful big rain trees, reminiscent of Australia’s Moreton Bay figs. They were covered with frilly green, tropical epiphytes, like thousands of living prayer flags. The waterfront also featured huge, triangular drop nets weaved onto cleverly contrived bamboo booms, which fisherman would lower down over schools of estuary fish. The locals were amiable and curious, but in a … Read more