It was a Friday afternoon and I was nearing the end of a four-hour haul north. As I wound down the window the static-infused crackle of the radio was replaced by a chorus of cicadas, the air was ripe with the scent of eucalypts’ and smooth bitu- men made way for a pot-holed dirt road. Finally, that other world had been left behind. Those pesky arrows on the forecasting app weren’t perfectly aligned for the spot I had in mind, but I had a hunch it might still be ok. After dodging a few tyre-eating rocks I pulled into a clearing, breathed a sigh and did my best to shake off the driver fatigue. Two minutes later I was wandering down a bush track with board under arm, the foliage so thick it bent into a tunnel of green. Something big and reptilian scur- ried through the scrub, meanwhile, I kept my eyes peeled for the snakes that are known to tan on the track. I passed the noble fig tree and greeted it like an old friend, navigated the slippery section and welcomed the feel of mud between my toes. Eventually the portal of green gave way to a wooden platform that afforded a glorious view of the beach. Beyond the twisting dunes, three- four peaks were bending and doubling up in the shadow of a sloping headland that seemed to have the answers to the origins of the earth written in its grooves.There were only two guys out and the wind was light. With much haste I descended the wooden stairs and quickened to a trot; muddy feet wiped clean by the squelching, talcum sand. Despite the abundance of recent rains the water was clear with the mere hint of a tea-tree hue. On my first wave, two swells converged and flung me down the line like a skimming stone tossed by a discus thrower. The long drive, the recent weeks of work and a year of harsh restrictions were all forgotten as the moment commanded my full attention and my brain screamed ‘Hold on!’ I kicked off with a smile and enjoyed a long paddle back out that reacquainted me with latent muscles and allowed me to watch waves pitch and spin unridden. After a few rides I got talking to the one guy who was sharing the same peak. We traded histories and talked about our … Read more

(djiraali is blood, muriyira – whale in ourYuin dhurga language.) For the last five years I have been doing field trips with the ANU School of Art & Design Environment Studio’s Balawan Elective. We go to Jigamy Farm in Eden and camp withYuin custodians, teachers and students and learn aboutYuin culture around Eden. Our ancestors survived off the land, they regulated the amount of resources that the land provided, thus maintaining balance for all to survive. In the 1800s the whalers arrived in Eden at Twofold Bay. It was business for them to kill many whales. Here, I think of all those poor whales that were slaughtered there on that beach. So this painting is about the whale’s blood that’s seeped through the sand. The Triangles – Our Yuin ancestors use linework in caves, using triangles for me represents all things connected, they represent the land markings e.g. hills, mountains, rivers, creeks, estuaries, coastlines, gullies ect. The triangles also represent the parent & child, male and female and all living things in and on the land. The triangles also represent the day/night, the stars. Amongst the lines lives the spiritual energy of our songline.

A DEEP DIVE INTO THE PHOTO ARCHIVE OF PETER ‘JOLI’ WILSON, AKA THE MEMORY MILLIONAIRE. Kelly Slater and Andy Irons on the stage after the final of the 2003 Xbox Pipeline Masters run at Pipeline Beach on the North Shore of Oahu, Hawaii. Irons not only won the Pipe Masters but also sealed the 2003 ASP World Professional Surfing Championship and the Hawaiian Triple Crown Title. Joel Parkinson (AUS) was runner up to Irons while Phil MacDonald (AUS) was third and Slater finished in fourth. Kelly went into the last event of the year leading the ASP ratings, with Andy the defending World Champion needing to win the Final to claim it for a second year in a row. With the way the draw was set up, they were only ever going to meet in the Final. Due to the Hawaiian Contest Permit system, all the contests had to run four- man heats which was never easy considering every other event around the world was operat- ing with man-on-man heats. The swell had a lot of North in it and Backdoor was the spot, but Kelly had surfed lots of his heats at Gums which runs along the sandbar into Backdoor. It had been a good strategy until the Final. He hadn’t really got a decent score while the other three guys were racking up the points with Andy in the lead and dominating. Finally, Kelly realised he needed to get back in the mix and made the move to Backdoor, but he wasn’t going to get a clean run at Andy as he had to deal with the two other surfers in the water, Parko and Phil MacDonald, who’d had a dream run through the event to reach the Final. Phil Mac, stayed out of it but Parko who was sitting in second spot with priority and really nothing to lose ended up playing spoiler for his good mate Andy by blocking Kelly on a crucial wave. Andy easily won the Final, and for a second year in a row he’d claimed the trifecta with three of the most sort after Titles in Surfing; World Champ, Pipe Masters and Hawaiian Triple Crown Cham- pion. This was Andy at the peak of his career, and you can read the body language in this shot on the stage. With Parko and Phil Macca on the stage as second and third-place getters … Read more

In the mid-60s circumstances conspired to put Steve Cooney on a fast-track to surfing stardom. By the time Steve was a plucky grommet paddling out at Collaroy point his older brother, Butch, was already a celebrated surfer and budding shaper. Meanwhile, NatYoung lived up the road and christened Steve and Butch with their nicknames (see extract). As part of the heady Northern Beaches scene, young Steve traded waves and board info with surfing luminaries like Nat, Bob McTavish, and Wayne Lynch. He soaked it all up and by 1971, he was NSW Junior Champion, eclipsing Mark Richards and Simon Anderson in the finals at Narrabeen. However, in a move, which perhaps foreshadowed the birth of the ‘freesurfer’, Steve was already involved in Albe Falzon’s production of ‘Morning of the Earth’. Bali’s surfing potential was still a whisper amongst the few surfers who’d been there but after a tip-off from Russell Hughes, Albe decided he’d fly into the newly built Denpasar airport and chase down more footage for his film. In September of 1971 he invited 15-year-old Steve to join him, alongside Alby’s partner Tanya Binning, Rusty Miller, Paul Hutchinson and his brother Geoff, and Peter Debono (co-owner of Hutchinson Surfboards). When Albe stumbled across a promis- ing set-up on the Bukit peninsular, Steve, in the absence of proof otherwise, famously became the first surfer to ride Uluwatu. By February the following year ‘Morning of the Earth’ had begun its tour around Australia and Steve was the ethereal, teenage wunderkind, gliding across a shimmering Uluwatu wall on the big screen, before enraptured audiences. It was Steve’s rides, alongside Rusty Miller, that inspired a generation of surfers to abandon all other ambitions and set their sights on Bali. While he might have made a bigger claim on his place in surfing history, Steve, by his own admis- sion, never dealt that well with the all the attention. Now, 50 years later he has released a memoir, ‘Unearthed’, which explores the full story behind those seminal sessions in ‘Morning of the Earth’. However, this is much more than a tale of surf adventure and discovery as it weaves delicately through family tragedy, surfing revelations, unexpected twists and famous cameos. In the grittiest sections, Steve reflects on his family’s complex dynamics with welcome honesty; detailing growing up as the youngest of six in the 60s with a widowed mother and eldest brother who had … Read more