Mikey Wright pulls into a tube in west australia
Mikey Wright deep inside a glass house of euphoric emotions

Wanderlust: The final chapter – Part one

Tracks' iconic road adventure

Up North The Wanderlust convoy rolled into Perth on a soggy August morning. 4x4s jammed with boards and tents with no plans other than to get out of the city. From Perth surf trips can go two ways; Down South or Up North. It could have been a coin-toss to decide the first move, but the lads had a hankering to get way out into the wild so cars were pointed north and we took off up the highway for Kalbarri while keeping one eye on the forecast, watching for a Gnaraloo swell. Morning-time at the Kalbarri caravan park moves to the slow rhythm of the ablution block shuffle. The off-beat limp of grey-nomads with hip replacements sets the tempo. Past rows of shiny, shiny caravans perched on neat, terraced campsites the morning pilgrimage is made. Dress- ing gowns and Crocs are invariably worn. Luke ‘Louie’ Hynd and Mikey Wright lie oblivious in their slumber until the distant crack of breaking waves rouses them. Louie emerges from beneath his extraordinary mess of hair bleary-eyed but ready to take on the day. Mikey crawls out of his swag, shakes out his glorious mullet and sets an Akubra atop his head. ’Ow yer garn’ he greets the world. He looks and sounds like the postcard caricature of an outback Aussie. The salty old sea-dogs up on the point at Jakes don’t fall into the same stereotype. They’ve got long, straggly hair from a pre-Craig Ando-chic era and faces deeply lined from staring into a thousand sunsets trying to make out incoming swell lines against the horizon. They wear thrice-repaired Gaths and gaffer-taped wetsuits. They spout tomes of wisdom to anyone who’ll listen but we are wary of what to believe. ‘Junkyard’ Johnny, one of the more talkative salt-crusted masters, reckons the harsh weather drove all the soft people away. At first we are unconvinced because the wind is light and the sunshine pleasant. But it only takes a day or so for our burnt faces and bloodshot eyes to start screaming for relief. The first day in Kalbarri was the best on the forecast but Jakes was packed. The local community was celebrating the lives of two recently lost mates; Mason and Chad, by pushing themselves over the ledge on the craziest waves they could find. It was an emotional and personal occasion for the tight-knit community and Mike and Louie were … Read more

Up North

The Wanderlust convoy rolled into Perth on a soggy August morning. 4x4s jammed with boards and tents with no plans other than to get out of the city. From Perth surf trips can go two ways; Down South or Up North. It could have been a coin-toss to decide the first move, but the lads had a hankering to get way out into the wild so cars were pointed north and we took off up the highway for Kalbarri while keeping one eye on the forecast, watching for a Gnaraloo swell.

Morning-time at the Kalbarri caravan park moves to the slow rhythm of the ablution block shuffle. The off-beat limp of grey-nomads with hip replacements sets the tempo. Past rows of shiny, shiny caravans perched on neat, terraced campsites the morning pilgrimage is made. Dress- ing gowns and Crocs are invariably worn. Luke ‘Louie’ Hynd and Mikey Wright lie oblivious in their slumber until the distant crack of breaking waves rouses them.

Louie emerges from beneath his extraordinary mess of hair bleary-eyed but ready to take on the day. Mikey crawls out of his swag, shakes out his glorious mullet and sets an Akubra atop his head. ’Ow yer garn’ he greets the world. He looks and sounds like the postcard caricature of an outback Aussie.

The salty old sea-dogs up on the point at Jakes don’t fall into the same stereotype. They’ve got long, straggly hair from a pre-Craig Ando-chic era and faces deeply lined from staring into a thousand sunsets trying to make out incoming swell lines against the horizon. They wear thrice-repaired Gaths and gaffer-taped wetsuits. They spout tomes of wisdom to anyone who’ll listen but we are wary of what to believe. ‘Junkyard’ Johnny, one of the more talkative salt-crusted masters, reckons the harsh ...

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