First Official Isle of Wight Surf Club Trip
The very first official IoW Surf Club trip was to Newquay at Easter in 1967 just after the club was formed. It seems like the Stone Age now.
The thinking was it would be relatively warmer by then and it would be a chance to surf some proper waves. It was the only available time off work so ferries were booked. Sleeping bags were bought from the army surplus store and old tents dug out as no one could afford a hotel then or even a guest house, that’s if they would let us in!!!!!!!!
The chance to use the newly acquired ‘MALIBU’ boards in Cornwall was too good to miss. Rudimentary wetsuits were acquired over the winter, being diving based or just sleeveless tops. Beaver tails were all the rage, being early examples of neoprene up to ½” thick, ideal for being slammed into a sandbar.
Of course there were some who had surfed all winter without one and didn’t think much of these new fangled things, ‘what’s wrong with a thick woollen jumper!’, Ned was a great exponent of this philosophy especially after a few pints.
The boards were bought in the autumn of the previous year, at the end of the season sale at ‘The Paint Spot’ which was located in the Diggey, an old area of Newquay which is now the Co-Op behind Towan beach. They were ex-hire boards and ranged in size from 9’6” – 10’6”, single fin jobs, slightly heavier than today’s slithers, almost resembling aircraft carriers, but when going would really fly.
These boards were a huge advance on the heavy wooden boards in use at that time, plywood traditional belly boards used with swim fins were soon obsolete and Malibu long boards were the thing with one downside, no leashes then, probably a good idea as one of these boards tied to your leg would have caused quite a bit of damage.
The enthusiasm for going to Cornwall was all wound up with the emerging surf culture, Bilbo’s surf shop and factory where a board would be made there and then to your spec and meeting Rod Sumpter who had just come back from California coming 5th in the world championship!!!!!.
So the Thursday before Easter soon came round and arrangements were made. We were to meet up at the pub in Crantock not far from Trevella camp site in the evening, as some could finish work early and get a surf in before dark, while others were still travelling down having to work till late.
A far as I can remember there was myself (Rog Backhouse), Sue Ellis, John Ainsworth, Rusty Long, Colin Burgess, Geoff ‘NED’ Gardener and Kev Digweed, but as they say about the Sixties ‘if you remember it you weren’t there’.
What a motley parade of antiquated cars there were from a Mini, a Standard 10, an A35, and a Hillman Minx, all with strange wings attached to the roof. Today we take it for granted, dial in the post code set the nav, select the play list on the whatever, load the drinks holders and off you go, 4hrs max. Not then, just getting off the Island was a complete pain following the directions of the British Rail staff onto the old tea tray of a ferry running at that time. Rough waves would come right through the car deck and out of the stern. There were far more rusty cars on the Island than anywhere. On foreign soil, the great north island, which way to go?? Head west on the A35 not quite Route 66 but that’s all we had, no dual carriageways, roundabouts, traffic lights and endless little roads going right through the main towns all the way.
Dorchester, Bridport, Axminster, the tunnel at the top of Charminster, and on to Exeter, occasionally the road became three lanes, with a suicide lane for overtaking, scary. And so onto the moors and Launceston with its really scary left turn round the castle walls. Fish and chips in Bodmin and pray it wasn’t foggy over the last bit to Indian Queens and then the relaxing bit into Newquay, knowing it wasn’t far and waves were waiting.
You might tell that I’ve driven this route many many times, driving down after work on Friday and coming back Sunday late, through the construction of the many bi-passes and motorways over the years. The worst drive ever was being stuck in Exeter on a August Bank Holiday when it took 18 hours to get home.
Were there waves? Of course, Great Western was really going off and we dragged our weary limbs down the beach and caught some really good right handers at high tide. If you know it, you’ll know what I mean. After a good surf, down the town to get something to eat and dry the wetties in the launderette at Towan and a look at the new boards at Bilbo’s.
There was and probably still is only one pub, ‘The Sailors’ in Newquay and many a story was told in there and plans hatched for trips all over the world as this was the time of the Hippie trail to India, and new discoveries and no boundaries to limit the new found freedoms.
Off to Trevella to put the tents up and get ready for the night and then to the rendezvous at Crantock where we said we would meet to discuss where to surf in the morning. There was no such thing as a surf forecast then, no Magic Seaweed or mobile phones, just a hunch or a quick look at the back page of the Telegraph newspaper for their Atlantic pressure chart.
After a long wait Ned eventually arrived and had a quick pint to liven himself up and told us about why he had been held up. Not knowing the road that well he had to take evasive action while taking the infamous corner in Launceston, and guess what the constabulary were waiting for just that occasion. After greeting the officer with his best imitation of Neddy Seagoon, “Evening Gilbert” a long conversation took place about where he was going with that strange thing on the roof, and ‘next time be a bit more careful son’. Whew !! at least the officer was a bit more humane and interested than official!!!!
After a long day it was time to get some sleep, some sleep was not what we got. Every half hour a tremendous roar was heard and a large aircraft barely made it over the camp sight, what was happening? Are we at war? Have aliens landed? Eventually all the noise died down and a little bit of exhausted sleep was had, but it was freezing, Easter in England!!!!!!!.
Soon the noise started again and to add to the discomfort the wind got up and there was a heavy squall with hailstones and sleet, retreat to the cars was the only option. Morning eventually came, a cup of tea and off into Newquay for breakfast and to check the surf out, but considerably slower than the day before, a sort of malaise had set in.
Fistral was big and exposed to the wind so back round to Towan and some nice shaped waves, others were already out making it quite crowded, 6 people. After parking up, donning wetties and lugging boards down the beach, the tide was going out.
A confusion of coastguards, police and council workers descended on us. Were we illegally parked? Had ‘Neds’ encounter the night before stirred things up? Were we being invaded? We were told quite forcibly to clear the beach immediately, but why?
Someone eventually told us what was going on, the tanker Torrey Canyon had run aground in the Scilly Isles and was spilling thousands of gallons of oil all along the coast. Answers to all our questions, the aeroplanes that had kept us awake were Long Range Shackleton Reconnaissance planes flying out of RAF St. Mawgan. A long way to come for no waves perhaps the little old Isle of Wight waves weren’t that bad. This was to turn out to be the worst environmental disaster to ever hit Cornwall and even the whole of the South West, of course the Government had no idea of how to deal with it.
This was a serious wakeup call as spraying had an even worse effect on the environment eventually leading to the bombing of the wreck by Buccaneers of the Navy. Although pretty depressing, it has lead to more stringent rules and regulations being introduced over the years, with protest movements having great effect over authority. Yet time and time again it has happened and probably will in the future.
A long drive back through the Easter traffic and a final catastrophe, I had lost my return ferry ticket!!!!!!!!
There was a lull in visits down west, but after a couple months the beaches were deemed usable and trips continued through ‘67. But a slight hic-up came, my future wife ,Sue, refused absolutely and completely forever ever to go camping in a tent ever again which lead to the purchase of a split – screen 1200cc, 6volt Volkswagen, under-powered or what!!!!!!!!!!! Porthtowan for the National Championships, Aggie in the badlands and good old Crantock.
Throughout 67-68 surfing equipment was evolving at a rapid rate, with the influence of the Aussies, V-bottoms, shorter boards and new ways of attacking waves but that’s another story……
IOW Surf Club – 10 Years on
In March 1977 the Isle of Wight Surf Club became 10 years old and in the winter issue of Wight Water magazine, Keith Williams wrote a great piece on his personal view of the previous 10 years.
Ten Years On: A Personal View – by Keith Williams
Not until reading this will many people know that in March ’77, the IOW Surf Club celebrated its 10th birthday. “So what?” you may ask. Well, my first excursion on a “Malibu” surfboard was 11 years a go. The board was 9 ft. 6″ long, made of polystyrene foam sandwiched with plywood and coated in polyester resin, made by Mike Hutchinson.
1966 and Mike Hutchinson’s board
“Sure”, he said , “You can have a go. Just lie on it, face the shore and paddle for the white water – don’t shoot the curl!” I was lost – what did ‘shoot the curl’ mean; how did you paddle, in fact how on earth did you lie on the bloody thing without falling off? Some time after the disatrous outing, I went out surfing with Mit Sidpan and Ben Kelly of Kelly’s left fame. Watching Sid was a help to me even though I still couldn’t catch waves. It wasn’t until I joined the IOW Surf Club in March ’67 that I began to see the light.
All the surfing terminology was soon explained and because most of us were still at the learning stage, we all seemed to help each other with learning techniques. Developement was still very slow: I remeber that it took me nearly 3 months to get a ride in which I didn’t wipe out within 3 seconds of standing up, and that was on a longboard too! Compare that with today when newcomers are given the benefit of up to 10 years experience by established surfers. People who, until now, have had only one winter’s worth of waves are really getting it together, considering the greater difficulties involved with short boards.
People like Rog Backhouse and John Ainsworth, (who was one of the best surfers on the Wight when I joined the Surf Club), are still surfing. Most of the original members have drifted away through marriage, mortgage or moving. Some veteran surfers do make comebacks, Ned Gardner is getting into the water again after a lay off of about 6 – 7 years, and really enjoying it. Nice one Ned. Some of the old timers still appear now and again, although they seem to have lost the vitality and aggression that made them good durfers 10 years a go.
During the last 10 years every aspect of surfing and surfing equipment has improved. Foam is lighter and stronger, as is the fibreglass itself; wetsuits are especially tailored to the surfers’ needs and readily available now. Even skateboards have undergone a technological revolution. Obviously during a period such as this when hardware has improved, surfing performance must have improved at a proportionate rate – today’s average surfer can easily outperform yesterday’s hot dogger, although grace and style of a longboard surfer is hard to achieve on today’s boards. Surfing has become a very individual thing, there are almost as many styles and techniques as there are surfers.
Even after a long period of development, a surfer’s individual style is still recognisable, his attitude and posture on a board still having the same characteristics, which seem to be an integral part of the body even carried through to other activities like skateboarding.
Surfers are much more self sufficient now than in the 60′s, when about 30 of us used to sit around the downstairs room at Clare Cottage on a Friday evening, debating where we would get the best swell conditions on the following day. Once decided, everybody without exception, would duly arrive at the appointed place. Nobody would go in on their own, it was usually “I’d come in if you want to go in”.
Surfing equipment in those days covered a wide variety of construction techniques and design concepts. Plywood/Polystyrene sandwiches; hollow ply construction with solid rails (usually necessitating at least 2 drain plugs); polystyrene sealed with either ‘Cascamite’ wood glue or, less successfuly with papier mache, and glassed over the top. These were just a few of the combinations tried by home constructors. Designs also followed almost as many different avenues as construction techniques – whilst I was endeavering to make an 8 ft. x 24″ polystyrene – cascamite – glass virtually flat board with a removable fin in an aluminium skeg box, Rog Cooper was making an 11′ 3″ monster of similar construction with a hollow scooped bottom and an 1/8″ thick aluminium skeg – specially honed for the annual influx of grockles!
Durfing these early days many were the arguments that raged on a Friday evening at Clare Cottage about the relative merits of this and that. However, as time passed, better communication with the outside world by way of magazines, films, and trips away taught us the basic construction methods and what we could expect from each type of board design. All this was upset in 1969 when the shortboard and vee bottom revolution hit the surfing world. This revolution wss orginated by the so called Power Surfers of Australia. Bob McTavish and Nat Young really shook up the rest of the surfing world when they took their short, deep vees to Haliewa in Hawaii. Since then surfboard design has evolved again along many different avenues. Construction techniques have also undergone a critical scrutiny from major manufacturers. Honeycomb construction, hollow boards, even back to Balsa strips, have been tried in the last few years. However it would seem that the basic construction of polyurethane foam and GRP is here to stay. Board designs are developing all the time, short to long, to side to narrow – where will it all end? Probably when you as an individual do not want anything more from your board. Some people may never reach that stage; their surfing improving all the time – searching in vain for the perfect vehicle!
So where does this leave the IOWSC after 10 years of change and of fluctuating levels of interest? Gone are the days when any one who was vaguely interested in surfing automatically became a member. At present there are a number of surfers on the Island who show no interest in the club whatsoever and many more who sometimes pay their yearly subs, and sometimes not, but who still attend the club functions and use club facilities. These absentees, however temporary, must be drawn (back) into the club to strengthen it in as many ways as possible – not least financially. Obviously the more members there are the more each member can get out of the Club, not only in enjoyment of more films etc. but in communication, competition and companionship.
The IOWSC has contributed to making the last 10 years the most entertaining and fulfilling years of my life, from the day I walked up the path at Clare Cottage and met a ginger haired bloke in faded jeans and a sloppy jumper (John Ainsworth as I later discovered).
Now, after 10 years I hope that the club has given and will give in the future as much enjoyment to the rest of you as it has to me.
Successful Year For Surf Club
Article from a local paper 17/2/68
The first annual meeting of the I.W.Surf Club was held at the Clubhouse, Ventnor on Friday week.
Mr R. Backhouse (chairman) said that surfing was a new sport to the Island and he had encountered literally hundreds of people who had said it could not be done here, but members had surfed successfully and gained much experience. Mr Rod Sumpter, the European Surf Champion and Honorary President of the club, had commented that Freshwater Bay was one of the best point breaks in the British Isles.
From a nucleus of six founder members last April, the club had grown to the present membership of 70 enthusiasts. Well over £1000 had been invested by the 38 individulas who had purchased the costly surfboards. A dozen members had invested in wetsuits at a total cost of £250. Surfers had rescued three swimmers out of their depth at Compton Bay during the season. The Management Committee of the Sandown Shanklin Rugby Football Club (The Hurricanes) had approved in principle a proposition for the Surf Club to use their new Clubhouse at present under construction.
Mr R. Long (hon. treasurer) reported a balance in hand of £16. The membership fee was raised for the coming year from 13s to 21s.
Officers elected were: President Mr Rod Sumpter; chairman, Mr P. Bardon; hon secretary, Miss L. Kent; hon. treasurer, Mr R. Long; Committee, Messrs. R. S. Pitman, I. Vallender, K. Williams and D. Paddon.
Dave Gray wins the 1980 IOW Surf Club Contest
The 1980 Annual was finally wrapped up on 22 March. A meaty depression prowling round the mouth of the Channel produced totally maxed out Compton with onshore gales and waves breaking way out in the bay half way between the carpark and the most westerly visible point of the Tennyson Down. There was no alternative but to most the contest east of Niton to Hope, where it underway at midday.
A disappointment after the Saturday which was gutsy at 4-5 feet with very nice inside sections, the waves only managed to struggle up to 2 feet at most for the first heat. However, the six contestants in this heat made the most of a bad job, with Marcus Lloyd dominating to the accompaniment of raucous cheering from the kids on the cliff above and ‘Come on Marcus, give it some welly’ from his girlfriend. Mike Smith slid a few to the very inside, as did Dave Jacobs, but Simon Rolfe and Chris Hollis really needed bigger waves to show off their repertoire to its best advantage. Who didn’t?
Heat Two ripped, slashed and bogged out in similar waves – in fact there were a couple of reasonably-sized sets to break the monotony! Perennial champ Dave Gray adopted a ‘ride anything’ policy which paid off – he won his heat. Steve Williams and Mark Todd followed him through to the finals.
Yes, finals! As the tide dropped out, allowing the swell to break a bit bigger and more consistently, the six finalists paddled out for the decider. Keith slid from further out on a borrowed longboard (the right tool for the job?). Steve broke his fin off half way through a kick-out in the shore break and had to swap boards before many minutes of the final had passed. Dave and Marcus, being goofy, rode mainly lefts, the latter obeying his beach-callers instructions, giving it welly wherever possible, whereas the other four shared the remaining rights amongst them.
Final results were:1 Dave Gray, 2 Marcus Lloyd, 3 Keith Williams, 4 Steve Williams, 5 Mark Todd, 6 Dave Jacobs. Thanks to everyone who helped with the contest, in particular the judges Ann Macpherson and Dave Bottrell; Tony Macpherson for providing the duck-caller (modern technology!) and gallons of frothing tea; Steph for the coconut; especially our hallowed Hon Pres, Sir John, for traipsing from one side of the Island to the other with us, in search of waves – bless their cotton Damarts!
(taken from a 1980 issue of Wight Water Magazine)
Old Clarks’ Glossary of Surfing
Image: Chris Slater riding the wave at Compton with Dougie Saunders in the line up. The image has no relation to the below article.
Old Clarks’ Glossary of Surf – taken from Wight Water Magazine 1981
Being an Authoritive Guide to an Old Sport and New Pastime, in Alphabetical Order and Fully Cross-Referenced. Essential to Gremmie and Old Salt alike. First Pub. at Hulverstone 1981. Compiled by JW and RA Clark.
A
Awful Tea. Brewed by the National Suss (q.v.) since AM 1979 (After Munt q.v.)
B
Burt’s – often used in cases of depression (q.v.) or packs of six, but works better as a laxative.
Bogs – (at Compton), locked in winter, full up in summer.
C
Cretin. Species of lunatic, (see Grockle)
D
Dumper truck, suitable for removing burnt out remains of Surf Club Huts
E
Ephriam Prenderghast; obscure missionary and collector of Hymenoptera, sent to the Pacific Islands in 1850 to convert natives. Last seen ripping six foot tubes and lying on the beach surrounded by dusky maidens. Coined the phrase ‘far out’. (q.v.)
F
Flat; no surf (see summertime)
Far Out! – uncertain meaning, perhaps applied to low tide (q.v.)
G
Grockle; much suffered complaint of NW Frontier, viz., pain in the Khyber Pass
H
High Tide – alcoholic soap powder.
I
Isobars; Lines on a map connecting pubs at the same height above sea level.
J
Join – the Isle of Wight Surf Club!
K
Kelp; Health food, manure and an unholy stinking fly-ridden beach on a hot day.
L
Low Tide – Little soap powder left.
Laxative; The Bay at 10 feet.
M
Mortgage; essential for buying a new surfboard.
Munt, Mr. Friendly local capitalist, now retired.
N
National Suss. Brewers of Awful Tea
O
Ocean. Large Volume of oxidised hydrogen containing dissolved salts, and other people’s rubbish. Causes many problems, mostly by not coming across with the necessary.
P
Polysiphonia Elongata – does not mean ‘many long drawn-out tubes’ but does mean you can get very tangled up whilst surfing (see Kelp).
Q
Queen. What the hell’s she got to do with it?
R
Rubber Suit; protective device.
S
Summertime. Period of year given over to flatness (q.v.) Grockles (q.v.), and fickle sunshine.
Surfboard; expensive implement of self-torture often connected with Rubber Suits (q.v.)
Surf; inferior soap powder.
Sand; ingrdient of beach lunches, tea and canned beer. Occurs naturally in shoes and socks; used as a floor covering during Summer (q.v.) in VW Micro-buses (q.v.) and French bordellos.
T
Ten; Hang Ten. Pointless excersise popular in the 1960′s now almost impossible of boards of current length.
U
Underpants. Essential element incorporated in the Davy Lamp Principle as described in Sid Dipman’s ‘Varp Lightning’, previously published in a back number of Wight Water, and abstracted from the greater work ‘Things to do on Flatulent Days’.
V
VW Microbuses; for transportation of picks, shovels, surfboards and other implements of destruction.
W
Wistful, waiting, watching, weather map and Winter – (c.f. Summertime), period of year given over to Rubber Suits (q.v.)
X
Xenoiphobia; pathological dislike of foreigners (see Grockle).
Y
Yesterday (overworked word).
Z
Zone
Sub-littoral surfing area
O – you can smell it at low tide (q.v.)
Disaster; Swimming Area
Forbidden; Good Surfing Area
No Parking; Right next to the Good Surfing Area
Erogenous; After-Surf entertainment
Inter-tidal; Rubbish tip
War; Surfing Area
Zombie; soulless corpse given the appearance of life by witchcraft (see Grockle)
THE END (See Grockle)
(slightly edited to protect the innocent)
The Exlife File
She was riding intuitively, riding on nerves and instinct, with no time for thought or rational assessment. It was all happening so fast – yet she’d been on this wave all her life. The stoke was unbelievable! Every manoevre better than the last, flying out of the turns and, well, just plain rad! Ooo-ee!! The boys would love this one! As the wave humped up, steepening for its final attack, Gran Slick marshalled all her faculties – and pulled off the best re-entry of her short career, a vertical magic carpet ride which defied description.
Turtles, West Java in 1994
While travelling in New Zealand, Richard Holmes from Newcastle, Richard Harvey and myself (Paul Blackley) had been told of a secret spot in West Java called ‘Turtles’. We had learnt of a place where there were no crowds and epic barrels but that it was well off the beaten track and would take at least a couple of days to get there from Bali.
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It sounded too good to be true, after all those years of watching ‘Morning of the Earth’, ‘Crystal Voyager’, Endless Summer’ and other classic surf movies I couldn’t believe we were actually on an adventure to surf somewhere that was still thought of as a secret.
After some great waves on Bali we travelled across to the western tip of the Island and the port of Gilimanuk to catch the ferry to Ketapang and Banyuwangi in Java. I think the Bemo driver was having a laugh with us as he dropped everyone off, but took us another mile down the road where we had to get another Bemo back to the ferry port. On the ferry we met a very friendly Javanese guy who insisted we come and eat dinner at his families’ restaurant once we had disembarked from the ferry.
The train journey ahead was a long one and we were not prepared. Everything we did was on the cheap so to maximise our stay (the full 2 months we had on our visas) in Indonesia. We had opted for the economy class train (it must have saved us at least £2 each) which took about 14 hours to get to Surabaya. What we didn’t realise was that it stopped 3 times at every station. Just before the station to let the street sellers on, and then again after the station to let them off. You can only understand how crazy you start to feel after a few hours of this, if you have experienced it yourself.
Being the only Europeans on the train we got a lot of interest and always had people wanting to talk to us and the sellers always trying to get us to buy fruit, rice and all sorts of other things. It was a great way to try new things and we ate rice out of big green leaves and tried some very spiky and knobbly looking fruit.
Obviously being on a train for that many hours at some point nature calls and I needed to know if there was a toilet on the train. Thankfully the lady next to me said I would need to go to the end of the carriage. When I got to the end of the carriage, which took some time as the train was extremely full now, there were two guys standing in the open door of the toilet. I gestured that I needed to go in there and they just squeezed to one side to allow me in. I now realised that the toilet was just a cupboard with no door and a whole in the floor and the tracks zooming by beneath me, which I was now sharing extremely closely with two other guys. At this point I decided that nature must have been calling someone else and I went back to my seat.
At some point during the journey a young lad/lady (not sure which but you know what I mean) spotted us and started to talk loudly in Javanese to us. We had no idea what he/she was saying but everyone else on the carriage thought it was hilarious at which point he/she decided to sing to us. The carriage was so crowded all we could do was sit and smile politely. Richard Harvey won’t remember any of this because he was so traumatised by the whole experience. Don’t worry Rich, he/she wasn’t interested in us, only Richard Holmes (the good looking ex model – so he kept telling us). Getting no reaction from us the he/she quickly moved on.
After a couple of train changes, travelling through Surabaya and Yogaykarta we eventually arrive at Bandung where we spend the night feeling a little frazzled. We now need to find transport to take us south. It was really hectic, all we wanted was to get to the beach and get some waves. Eventually we think we’ve found a Bemo that is going where we want to go. The driver takes our surfboards and to our horror attempts to tie them to the roof with a bit of string and our leashes, before piling on crates of chickens and suitcases and anything else that won’t fit inside the Bemo. He assures us everything is fine and ushers us into the Bemo. If you haven’t been in one of these little mini buses in Indonesia you will find that they don’t tend to use their brakes very often and just honk the horn a lot. We saw quite a few bemos in ditches, or with passengers helping to turn them back onto their wheels after rolling, luckily not the one that we were in.
The Bemo drops us off at the closest stop to Turtles and we decide to spend the night in this tiny village. All we knew was that Turtles was near Genteng, so we found a losman for the night and walked to the nearest restaurant. There was one person in the Restaurant, a very tall man dressed in an extremely smart military uniform who came straight over to talk to us. He turned out to be the General of the near by Air Force base and his name sounded something like Superman, I wasn’t going to argue with him. The General turned out to be really friendly and at the end of the evening paid for our meals.
View Larger Map
The next morning we arranged for someone to drive us to Mamas Losman a mile or so from the break we’d heard so much about. When we arrived at Mamas we were greeted by an Aussie, Ben White from Cronulla. Ben was really pleased to see us as he was there on his own and hadn’t surfed that day, saying a couple of others had left the day before. Ben was in the middle of repairing a broken fin on his surfboard and said he wasn’t keen to surf Turtles on his own. We soon get settled in and get our mosquito nets up in our rooms.
Located in front of a prawn factory, the local spot name is Pangumbahan, but known as Turtles because it’s near the Turtles nest. With luck you will surf with the Turtles (I think I was the only one NOT to see any Turtles – Gutted).
Turtles lurches abruptly onto the dead coral reef, making the take-off critical, and then leading into some hooked walls and nice barrel sections at lower tides. It gets classic and is pretty consistent although the south easterly winds usually pick up throughout the day, so best early morning. You must remember to kick out before the sudden shutdown section at the rusty pipe pylons.
We were told we would probably need a couple of boards to cope with what it could throw at us. A quiver here would be shortboards from 5’9″ – 6’6″ (with swallow tail, roundpin tail, round tail) or semi-gun 6’8″ – 7’4″. You need fast board if you want to make the really fast left hand Barrels, but at high tide, you can ride a much smaller board. (Designs have changed a lot since the earlt 90′s so this may be slightly inaccurate now)
The very next morning after an amazing breakfast, (I think it was like a rice pudding but was delicious) we headed off down the track towards Turtles in anticipation. I was quite nervous and didn’t know what to expect. Along the way a dog from the local village joined us darting in and out of the bush chasing something (that didn’t help my nerves).
Once we reached the break, I must have stood there for a few minutes with my mouth open. It was one of the most amazing waves I’d ever seen and quite close to shore. The sea was a gorgeous blue with these perfect head high barrels breaking over the reef. Ben explained where we should try to enter the water, right between the pilings where it looked to be sucking dry over the reef.
Rich Holmes went down onto the beach to do some yoga to warm up and I decided to grab a few pics. As Ben entered the water he made it look easy paddling out to the line up very quickly. Next up was Rich Harvey, he looked nervous and stood and watched it for a while. Eventually Rich went for it and it looked like he got sucked out to the line up very quickly. After Rich Holmes had paddled out it was time for me to get in. I had brought two boards with me and had opted to go with the bigger board which was a 7’4” x 18″ x 2 1/4″ (we were riding very thin, narrow boards back then) MCD semi gun shaped by Kym Thompson (Watercooled surfboards) until I felt comfortable (lol). The other three were goofy footers with me being a natural, it meant I was on my backhand (and I’ve never been great on my backhand).
I stepped up to the pilings and watched a wave come up and jumped in. It all seemed ok to start with and then as the water rushed out to meet the next wave it got very shallow and the reef was only an inch or two under my knuckles. I knew if I’d got this wrong it was going to get messy and it was looking bad as the next wave started to close over the reef. The 7’4” wasn’t the easiest thing to duck dive and with only a couple of inches of water under me, I just made myself as small as possible and shut my eyes. Somehow the last rush of water pulled me just under the lip and I was spat out the back.
Once in the line up the first thing I noticed was that the waves seemed to come out of nowhere. You couldn’t really see much of a wave looking out to the horizon but a few feet a way they would rise out of the deep. With only 4 of us in the water we just took turns grabbing waves. The only problem with this, was there was no waiting to grab a small one for my first wave. The smaller waves through the inside actually seemed to have a more critical take off than the set waves out the back anyhow.
Ben had told us the take off was critical and that we needed to be quick to our feet but I wasn’t ready and first wave up and I went over the falls. It felt like I had been dragged up and thrown over a second time before I came up, but it wasn’t too bad. I went back for more and soon mastered the drop and found I could push as hard as I could, driving through the bottom turns on my backhand.
Once out on the face of the wave, initially I would just try to go as fast as I could to safety, but as the tide pushed up I started having a blast. Rich Holmes was on a 6’6” and he was about 6’ tall. I watched him go over the falls on take off over and over again but eventually he got it sussed, I’ve never seen anyone take off so late. Our first days surf and we were stoked.
Everytime we turned up to surf at Turtles the guys from the prawn factory wwould come down to watch. They were all really friendly but communication was brief as we knew very little Javanese and they didn’t know any English.
When we got back to Mamas two more surfers from Cronulla, had just turned up, Francis Crossle and Ken Cantor. Francis is a physiotherapist who a few years later was physio for Tina Turner when she played in Sydney. Ken Cantor was a water photographer and Knee Boarder who had had two cover shots for Tracks magazine. Francis and Ken couldn’t believe that they had travelled to this tiny remote spot in Indonesia only to find three Pommies already there. It was soon time for dinner and more great food was laid on, with lots of freshly caught fish and rice.
Next morning we were all up early looking forward to more great waves. The comradeship in the water was the best I’ve ever experienced with guys I’d only known a day or two, shouting each other into waves and hooting every time someone took the drop. It definitely helped when it was my turn to go and I was lined up for one of the bigger sets with the other guys shouting go go go…..
Francis would charge anything and Ken was taking some of the latest drops I’d ever seen on his knee board and getting really deep in the barrel.
Over the next few days as we all started to gain more confidence and take more chances. This resulted in injuries and I think I was first with a nice fin cut to the side of my foot that needed paper stitches and busted fins on my board.
That afternoon I decided to keep out of the water but still go and take some pics. The swell had got up, but the wind had picked up too, making some challenging conditions. Francis seemed to be in his element taking some big drops, but Ben who had been getting barrel after barrel earlier was struggling to do the same in the bumpy conditions only making it out of about half this session. After being pitched a few times Ben came in and his back looked raw after being scraped along the reef.
The next morning when we got to the break there was a guy already out. Where did he come from? He wasn’t staying at Mamas and as far as we knew there was nowhere else to stay. The guys name was Ashley from Western Australia and he was staying with a family from the local fishing village with his sister and two of her friends. Ashley seemed to know the break pretty well and was pulling into barrel after barrel.
That night we invited Ashley and the girls back to Mamas for a few drinks and surf trip stories. Ashley and Ben were both on a search for new waves and secret spots. Ben had already spent 2 months in Indonesia and been over to Thailand to refresh his visa (you could only get a two month visa for Indo) and come back to Java. Ashley seemed to know of a few breaks on some of the other Islands that I’d never heard of and it wasn’t long before plans were being made to get to these other breaks.
All this talk of waves and secret spots was great but we hadn’t been in the company of girls for a couple of weeks. Ben and I persuaded a couple of the girls to come down to the secluded beach to watch the sunset.
All that week we had perfect surf. Every morning it was offshore with light winds picking up by lunchtime and dropping again late afternoon. It really did feel like we had found the perfect spot. One morning when we turned up we could see a surf charter boat out to sea, so we hid behind the bushes until it was gone so they couldn’t work out where the waves were. (These days I think lots of people go there by boat and some of the reviews I’ve seen haven’t rated it as a good wave. But if you make the effort to learn about the break and be there at the right time, by getting there early morning and and at low tide it’s epic).
On the second to last day Rich Harvey was sitting slightly inside and paddled for a wave but decided not to go at the last minute. He was too late, as he tried to pull back, sitting back on his board he was sucked over the falls. Rich was slammed into the reef head first coming up with blood all over his face. Luckily nothing was broken but it was enough to put Rich off going in again.
I remember one morning this huge set came through cleaning up everyone except for me. I just managed to punch through the lip of the first wave and found myself alone in the line up and in position for the next huge wave. I started to paddle for it before backing off as I realised that this wave was different and was just closing out right across the bay. As I sat back and watched the wave break, I realised it was going right across the bay and as far as I could see in both directions. I also realised I was a lot further out, and out of position for the reef. The two waves washed everyone else in towards the shore and both waves went right up the sand on the beach. Normally we surfed over the reef on the point which hooked around towards the beach before closing out into a shore break. At the time it just seemed odd, but about a month later I picked up a copy of ‘Surfing Life’ magazine and there was an article about a tsunami that had hit East Java early that morning on that day. Over 200 people had died and many surfers had been caught up in it at the surf camp at G-Land. Had we been caught up in the tail end of the tsunami? I guess I’ll never know for sure but those two waves were very different.
One evening someone from Mamas told us that the wave that broke right out front of where we were staying was sometimes ridden. It was a long way out across the reef but we thought we’d go and check it out. The wave raced along really fast but it just looked much too shallow, so none of us fancied giving it a go.
On the last day we had really good size waves and I had to go out on my smaller board. I found I was taking really late drops and although I pulled into a few barrels, I wasn’t coming out of many (actually I only made one or two). Eventually I pushed my luck too far and got really worked. When I finally popped up, I was right in the impact zone so my first thought was ‘I’ve got to get out of here’. When I finally made it to the line up it was starting to get dark and Ben was the only person still in the water. My leg didn’t feel right and I glanced back to see lots of blood. I shouted at Ben to see if he would have a look at my leg and see what I’d done. Ben went very pale when he looked at my leg and just said ‘you gotta get out of the water’ and promptly caught a wave to the beach leaving me on my own.
Thought’s started to race through my mind, ‘it’s getting dark’, ‘there are lots sharks around (having seen what was at the local fish markets)’ and ‘I’m bleeding a lot’. I very quickly paddled towards the beach and away from the reef. Glancing over my shoulder at my calf I was sure I could see things that weren’t supposed to be on the outside. I wasn’t sure If I’d be able to stand so I stayed prone all the way to the beach. I don’t know what sliced me open but it had made a big hole in my calf.
Ken and Francis came down and helped me get up the beach while someone went back to arrange a moped to come and get me and take me back to Mamas. Once we were back at Mamas the pain had kicked in but Francis took over and went and got his medical kit. Being a physio he had just about everything in it. Francis cleaned up my leg and I think a few of the boys sat on me while they put iodine on the wound (that brings tears to your eyes, I think they use Betadine these days which doesn’t hurt). Francis said he had stitches but had never stitched anyone up before and he wasn’t sure if I needed internal stitches, so he patched me up as best he could.
I needed to go to some sort of medical facility and it was now mid evening and very dark. The nearest hospital we knew of was in Pelabuhan Ratu which was about 5-6 hours drive away. We didn’t have any transport and you didn’t just phone for an ambulance. I was in a remote location in a third world country and I needed a doctor. ‘Oh crap’ is as polite away of saying what was going through my head at that time.
Someone from Mamas very kindly said they would drive me in to hospital in their minibus, but they didn’t have enough fuel. There wasn’t a local garage but they said it wouldn’t be a problem as long as I had money. I grabbed all the cash I had and my walkman and was helped aboard the minibus. Rich Harvey came with me and we set off in search of fuel. I was in a lot of pain and just put on my walkman with some Celibate Rifles cranked right up. I suddenly noticed we seemed to be going door to door around the local houses. The driver was trying to get fuel from people he knew from the village. I just handed over my cash; I didn’t care what it cost.
After a couple of hours we stopped and the driver got out and what looked like a couple of nurses came to the minibus. I didn’t know what was going on as I knew it was at least 5 hours to Pelabuhan Ratu. There was a discussion between the driver and the nurses and then they looked at me. I looked at Rich, he had the translation book. From what Rich could work out, was that this was a training school and they didn’t normally treat people like me but they’d have a go. I wasn’t interested in someone ‘having a go’, I would have rather stayed at Mamas and let Francis ‘have a go’. So we carried on until we got to the proper hospital.
When we go to the hospital I was shattered and still in a lot of pain. I was helped into some sort of theatre and put on the table. It wasn’t quite like being at St Mary’s Hospital. It didn’t look particularly clean and the doctor and nurses uniforms were pretty old and grubby, but at least the instruments were clean. I had actually brought needles and syringes with me that I bought from a chemist in Australia.
Before they would do anything, some forms were thrust at me to sign and I had to pay them. It was all in Javanese so I didn’t have a clue what I was signing. I really didn’t care by then, I just wanted it stitched up and some pain killers. Although I did joke with Rich that I hoped I hadn’t just signed away my kidneys. As I lay on the table being stitched up I realised I was watching geckos running up and down the walls and there were mosquito’s buzzing around my head.
I must have fallen asleep on the way back to Mamas as the trip didn’t seem to take as long, not being in so much pain helped. Once back, all that was left for me to do was to pack up my things. A few of the boys had an early surf and Ben had decided to go in search of more secret waves with Ashley.
Rich Harvey, Rich Holmes, Francis and Ken arranged for transport back to Pelabuhan Ratu where they could get some more waves at Cimaja. On route to Pelabuhan Ratu Francis suddenly asked the driver to stop at a little village. Francis had spotted a guy who was working on the side of the road. He turned out to be the local wood worker. Francis had broken a fin and wanted to know if this guy would be able to make him a wooden one. The whole village seemed to turn out to greet us and in no time at all this guy was shaping Francis a new fin. It was amazing to watch him work with such basic tools and turn out a beautifully carved fin from a tree trunk. We watched the whole process, from cutting a plank from a huge log to the final sanding. Francis was so impressed that he got him to make him another one as a souvenir (I had an email from Francis recently to say he still has the fins on his mantle now, over 17 years later).
We all stayed in one big room in Pelabuhan Ratu and in the middle of the night I heard someone quietly getting cross. I couldn’t sleep as the pain killers had worn off and was very uncomfortable. I’m also a very light sleeper and Francis was snoring for all of Australia. I realised the person sat up in bed getting cross was Ken. I pretended to be a sleep, but in the morning I spoke to Ken about it and he said he hadn’t had any sleep the whole trip due to Francis’s snoring.
The boys came back from surfing Cimaja saying what a great little wave it was but that the water was very murky and they thought they had touched something swimming under water. I didn’t like to tell them about all the sharks I’d seen at the local fish market when I’d hobbled along to the telephone exchange to make arrangements to get home.
From Pelabuhan Ratu, Rich Harvey and Rich Holmes got the train back to the other side of Java to go back to Bali. I went onto Jakarta with Ken and Francis who were flying on from there. My flights home were supposed to be out of Bali but I was hoping that Quantas would let me change my flight so I could leave from Jakarta. Jakarta was an eye opener for me, as on some streets you had people in total squalor on one side of the road and people in suits driving Porches and Mercedes on the other side the road seemingly oblivious to the plight of the people across the road.
When we got to the airport Quantas were very kind and changed my flight arrangements free of charge, but there wasn’t a flight out until the next morning. Ken and Francis weren’t flying out until the next day so we went and found a place to stay. That night we spent the night drinking in the bar and I spent the last of my money drinking bottled Guinness, something I hadn’t had since I left the UK some 12 months previous.
Ken and Francis dropped me at the airport early as they had to get off and I suddenly realised how difficult it was with two boards, a huge rucksack and my camera gear. I had help all the way to the airport but now hopping about on one leg with all my gear it was quite difficult.
A very kind lady who worked at the airport called Monica Retno saw me struggling and came over and helped me get my gear onto a trolley and then got me to my gate. I had completely forgotten that I needed to pay airport tax and had spent all my money in the bar the previous evening. Monica must have seen my look of panic and paid my tax for me. A ‘Huge Thank You’ to you Monica if you ever read this.
Once on the plane, I found that the plane was completely packed and was so pleased that I’d managed to get a seat. Then I realised that I was sitting between to huge guys who seemed to be taking up the whole three seats. I squeezed into my seat and was just thankful that I was going home. My leg had started to hurt quite a lot and I was worried that it had gotten infected. Francis had been changing my dressings regularly but in the climate and the fact that it had taken so long to be stitched up, the chance of infection was high.
Once back on the Island I went straight from the ferry to A&E at St Mary’s Hospital as my calf was throbbing. The nurses couldn’t believe the state of my leg when they removed the dressings. The wound had to be opened up again and cleaned thoroughly with all the infected stuff squeezed out of my leg. I was then advised to leave the wound open and let the air get to it. After getting a tetanus I was allowed to go home.
After seeing my family the first thing I wanted to do was go to Compton. I couldn’t go in the sea but just wanted to get back to my home beach. I jumped in the car with my brother and drove to Compton. Walking along the beach I bumped into lots of friends and it suddenly dawned on me how so little had changed, yet I had experienced so much in the last year and I had changed. It was kind of comforting and I appreciated what we had here on the Island a little more too.
The accommodation was really good at Mamas but sadly Mama’s has now been sold and is now a surf camp as far as I know. I have also seen reports of illegal surf camps right on the beach in front of the wave ‘Turtles’. They’re built on environmentally friendly land that’s there to protect the turtles habitat. Many of the charter boats that look for surf along the Javanese coast visit Turtles too now. I have also heard reports of it being dangerous to visit as there are certain religious army training camps near by. I hope this is not true as it is an amazing part of the world, very beautfiul and very friendly people.
IOW Surf History on BBC Countryfile
A few weeks a go I was contacted by BBC Countryfile saying they were filming on the Island later in the month and had come across the Wight Surf History website and were interested in showing the history of surfing on Island on the show. One of the BBC Countryfile presenters would have a surfing lesson and speak to some of the surfing legends about the legacy of the sport on the Island. One of the people they were particularly interested in talking to was Betty Tricket and too see Archie’s old surfboard and wetsuit.
The BBC Countryfile team turned up at Compton on Thursday morning in style with a lovely blue VW Camper from Isle of Wight Camper Van Holidays. Ellie Harrison met up with Scott Gardner of Wight Water and son of Geoff ‘Ned’ Gardner, (one of the first to surf on the Island back in the sixties) to have a surf lesson.
The car park was a busy place while the film crew got ready for the days shoot and Scott got Ellie set up with a board. Ellie got a few tips from Sid Pitman one of the first members of the Isle of Wight Surf Club that was formed in 1967.
The conditions weren’t ideal with strong onshore winds but the sun came out and there were waves and Scott went out and grabbed a quick wave showing Ellie how it’s done. After a few lessons on the sand and a some warm up excersises Ellie and Scott finally hit the water for the lesson. After a couple of initial tumbles Ellie looked like she was getting the hang of it and having a blast at the same time. By the end of the lesson Ellie was up and riding waves and getting huge cheers from everyone on the clifftop (sorry I missed you standing up Ellie, I’d gone to pick up Archie’s surfboard).
Rob Drake-Knight from Rapanui (and recently ‘Come Dine with Me’ fame) went in the water as spotter for Jules Benham the BBC Countryfile researcher and water cameraman. After Ellie’s lesson some of the guys from the Isle of Wight Surf Club went out and grabbed a few waves too. I just got back in time to see Joe Truman take out a 1970′s Tiki single fin surfboard to try out.
Ellie then went onto speak with Matt Harwood (Chairman of the Isle of Wight Surf Club), Mart Drake-Knight (Rapanui), Alan Reed (British Masters Longboard Champion), Mark New with Betty Tricket about Archie’s surfboard and wetsuit from the sixties.
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Alan Reed then got to take Archie’s homemade surfboard for a surf. Archie had surfed until he was 74 and the board hadn’t been in the sea for 15 years. Betty was really looking forward to seeing the board in the water again and remarked as Alan started to paddle it out that it reminded her of seeing Archie paddling the board all those years a go.
Al came in after catching a few waves saying how well it rode and it was a really lovely moment when Betty walked up a agve Al a big hug. Archie’s surfboard got a lot of interest and many of the the boys said how the shape of the board was actually ahead of it’s time with quite a lot of rocker in it.
At the end of the days shooting I bumped into Steve Williams who remembered Archie when he used to turn up the beach in his old Ford Anglia and walk down past the wreck to catch a few waves.
BHC Hostel and Training Centre
Alan Hunter contacted me last year and told me about the apprentices from BHC (British Hovercraft Corporation) back in the 60′s being some of the first guys to start surfing. Earlier this week I met up with Alan and he told me a few stories from those times.
British Hovercraft Corporation (B.H.C.) had an apprentiuce hostel and training centre located in the old Naval Hospital in Whippingham on top of the hill in East Cowes and near to Osborne House. There were dormitories, workshops and a drawing school in the old wards which was a row of long buildings connected by a covered walkway. The dormitories were probably a bit like old being in a boarding scholl with rows of beds along the sides and lockers in the middle. Each dormintory could hold about 30 apprentices.
This is where Alan Hunter, Geoff ‘Ned’ Gardner, Derek ‘Cosmic Leashes’ Thompson, Tad Ciastula, Dougie Clark and Bob Booth started their working lives as Apprentice Engineers. The other apprentices were either from the mainland or came from parts of the Island where there was no sufficient public transport to be able to get them to work on time so they stayed at the hostel. The apprentices were a mixed bunch with Islanders, ex public school boys and lads from the ‘Metal Box Company’ in Croydon, London and the ‘Metal Box Company, Carlisle, Scotland who did their first years apprenticeship at the Training Centre on the island.
It was a melting pot of different people, many of whom went onto great things. All around the hostel were the old Saunders Roe Test Centre, with test tanks, windtunnels and various works. At the back of the dormitories was a big tin shed which would always be a hive of activity. The apprentices would spend their free time working on there own personal projects from bikes, motorbikes, scooters, cars, fly by wire model aeroplanes and shaping surfboards. This tin shed was just as essential to their learning as the Training Centre was.
Alan remembers that Tad came from Winchester School and that Tad’s father was a designer on the Saunders-Roe Skeeter, a two-seat training and scout helicopter. The Skeeter has the distinction of being the first helicopter to be used by the British Army Air Corps.
The apprentices were paid very little and out of their wages was taken rent/keep for staying at the hostel too. So on a friday morning they would trek over to Cowes to sign on as the government would subsidise apprentices wages. Some of the apprentices were lucky enough to some cash work on a saturday morning reapiring hovercraft skirts for the Seaspeed Hovercrafts. Alan remembers being told of a story of when Tad was winching up a hovercraft to get at the skirts to repair them when the winch malfunctioned and tipped the hovercraft on end. Alan said if it had gone completely over the hovercraft would have been completely written off.
The apprentices were paid on a thursday and with what little they had, they would always be seen crossing the fields behind the hostel and around the back of the St Mildred’s Church at Whippingham and down to The Folly Inn. Geoff ‘Ned’ Gardner was fondly remembered as a real character and for entertaining the other apprentices with impressions while they were at the pub. These were your normal impressions but were amazing impressions of outboard motors. Alan remembers his impression of a Seagull Outboard Motor being started up being particularly good.
Sunday nights were also spent at the Folly Inn, usually sitting out on the decking listening to the Goon Show on the radio and drinking scrumpy. On a few occasions Alan remembers Tad, Dougie, Derek and himself taking a couple of rowing boats from the slipway at BHC and rowing to the Woodvale Hotel in Gurnard for a few drinks.
Alan remembered buying a huge old Bilbo surfboard from Dougie Clark in about 1968/69 but admits he never really got into surfing. Dougie on the other hand made surfing his lifestyle, deciding to no longer wear shoes or socks as he wanted to harden his feet for surfing, and also decided he wasn’t going to wear a shirt and tie anymore, opting for a sweatshirt. The managers at BHC went absolutely mad but Dougie would not budge on the matter and insisted he would not wear shoes or a shirt and tie anymore.
In the tin shed/workshop at the back of the dormitories Derek Thompson brought in his old Lambretta Scooter anouncing that it looked really tatty and the spent weeks hand painting it in the workshop. When Derek it was finished Alan says it was the most amazing paint job on a scooter he had ever seen. Derek jumped on the newly painted scooter and rode off down the road. After a few hundred yards one of the panels fell off and scaped along the raod getting really badly scratched. Derek was gutted.
Tad and Dougie spent some of their time out in the old tin shed designing and shaping a knee board like the one George Greenough rides in Crystal Voyager with a scooped deck. Dougie had an old 105E Anglia car and Tad and himself would always be driving off to the beach at Compton when they could to get waves or just to be at the beach.
In the dormitories Tad used to do this thing where he would stand on the edge of his bed and fall forward only putting his hands up in front of his chest to catch the fall as he landed flat on his bed. One day on the beach when Tad went back to the car Dougie and Derek dug a huge hole where Tad had put his towel and then carefully laid the towel back down again over the hole. When Tad came back he stood at the bottom of the towel and dropped (just like he would on his bed), but this time he fell straight through his towel and into the huge hole. Alan says it was very dangerous and Tad was lucky not to have broken his neck, understandably Tad was furious.
Alan remembers one day Ned getting a really nasty gash across his head that needed stitches after pulling into a barrel at the bay.
Another surfer Alan remembered was a girl called Merry Hughes who went off to the south of Fance and Biarritz for a whole summer. When she returned from France Alan says that all of a sudden she got lots of attention from the boys as she had blossomed into an absolute stunner.
I told Alan that I’d been in touch with Tad and was hoping to speak to Bob Booth soon toobut wondered if he knew the where abouts of some of the other apprentices. Alan says he remembers Dougie Clark heading off to Morroco to teach English language but hadn’t heard from him since and the last time he saw Derek Thompson was at Alexandra Palace at a Wind and Surf Exbo in the late 80′s advertising his leashes and Mountain Bikes. At the same show he said Tad had a special booth where he was shaping boards, which would have been about the time of Vitamin Sea surfboards.
Alan said he always used to try and keep in touch or at least find out was all the old apprentices and it was great to see the write up on Tad and Sue and that they were still living the dream.
Alan also remember one day down at Little Hope Beach waiting for the waves to pick up when Carrots came flying down the hill right from the top on his skateboard until he hit the curb at the bottom and ended up in a heap.
The Lost Art of Communication
After about an hour two other guys paddled out. One of them was a huge middle aged guy on a longboard and the other a kid on a shortboard. I could see the guy on the longboard was getting some good waves and after I’d had a long one I paddled back past him and introduced myself. It turned out he was an ex marine and now taught surfing on the north coast but this was his local break and to his mind it was better than what the north coast had to offer anyway. I asked him if it was always as empty as this and he told me that most people go to Praa Sands 20 minutes down the coast, they like to be seen. Ahh the herd mentality. I kept asking him about this little cove we had all to ourselves and he told me everything I needed to know about it. Best state of tide, rocks and where to go if it got too big to get out. We let each other have waves all afternoon. No hustling required! After the session we exchanged e.mails and I thanked him for his help. The next day it was maxing and try as I might I couldn’t get out. The guy had told me where at Praa I should go to avoid the crowds and a long walk. The private road he’d given me directions for brought me out at the other end of Praa sands. There was about half a dozen people out on perfect A frame peaks and when I looked right to the main beach about a mile away there was about 200 people out. The road he sent me down is no big secret but without him telling me I’d have probably ended up in Praa sands car park and been just another sheep in the herd. The art of communication at work!
Early Winter Waves and Xmas Fun
Cathcing up with some action back in December and here is a short movie from the 16 December 2011 at Freshwater Bay with Lee Webster, Joe Truman, Andrew Court, Will Rome and others enjoying a nice swell. Below are some great images of the boys getting in the Christmas spirit in costume – Santa, his Reindeer and Elves catching a few waves.
Surfing never dies – it will always be a part of us
Surfing Never Dies, it will always be part of us – by Tad Ciastula
A couple of weeks a go I got a great email from Tad and Sue. Tad had managed to persuade Sue to dig out some old pics from the 70′s for us to use here on the website and this is what Tad had to say.
Sue and I have been married 40 years this year. She is still the love of my life and has been my constant companion on everything we have done and the many places we have worked and travelled to.
Shots from Summer 71 after Sue and I got married in June. Trip to
Biarritz and Portugal / shaping shots from Portugal.
Some from Canaries 72/73 in tent on south of Gran Canaria.
You can see all the old crew Roger / Sandy /Keith Williams / Tad /Sue/
Dave Mercer don’t see Andrea but she was there (Fitted a new piston in their J 4 van in Spain)
Tony Mac was there – me and him on the park bench. Seem to remember that that Tony Mac was with someone else but ended up with Annie!!! Think that was right.
Really a long time ago – still surfing that will never change. Surfing never dies – it will always be a part of us.
Trip already booked to Bali for 3 weeks over Christmas we have a favorite place we always go. The waves are always great and Bali is such a special place. We have loved it from the first time we ever went some 30 years ago!! We will always go back there as often as we can. Working from Thailand it is an easy 3 hr. flight – we even take long weekends when the forecast is good.
Good luck with Freshwater Bay – total crap – greed is the very worst kind of evil.
Best regards
Tad and Sue.
After showing Tad’s pics to Keith Williams, Keith remembers a little more to the trip to France.
The restaurant photo was taken in the restaurant at the corner in Guethary by the traffic lights (later a double glazing outlet & then a Pizza parlour) taken soon after Tony & I arrived in late May or June 1973. I remember that it rained really hard during the meal with thunder & lightning and people eating outside had to abandon their tables to escape the torrential rain. I have a mental picture of baskets of soggy bread & glasses of diluted wine left on the tables outside.
There was another mass dinner on that trip at a little café up in the hills behind Baquio in northern Spain. I went up with Tad in the morning to warn the Senora that there would be 12 for dinner that night. As we went in there were a couple of seedy looking characters drinking wine at the bar & half a dozen flies circling above a table footie machine. That night, we took over a back room & all had steak (horse!), egg & chips all washed down with copious amounts of real Sangria. The bill was split 12 ways and came to 18/6 each….that’s 92.5p! Those were the days! In fact that was a bit of a ‘blow-out’ for us, as, when in Spain, we were living on about £2 per week
I remember the problem with Dave Mercer’s van. Tad & Sue turned up at Somo, where Tony & I were still camped, with Dave & Andrea one evening. Fortunately, I had a tent, ready for when my girlfriend flew out to join us some weeks later, so Dave & Andrea had somewhere to sleep. They were with us for about a week, waiting for a new piston to arrive.
Learning to Surf by Hugo
I feel like I’m free. I’m riding the tide.
The waves chasing me to the shore.
Arms out, knees bent, water dripping down from my head.
It’s gone dark now. I’m being tumbled and rolled by these wild wet panthers,
I can hear the distant sound of voices, clashing stones and the roar of water.
So that’s a wipeout. I love it.
I can feel myself grinning, I love it.
Again! Again!
I am paddling out in search of the next powerful wave, frothing at me like a dog with rabies.
This is great. Thanks Chris
Archie Tricket – 1922-2011
Archie Tricket R.I.P – 1922-2011
Sadly Archie passed away on Friday 18th November 2011.
It was a very peaceful death with many of the nurses who had looked after him for the last two years at his side. Betty was with him all afternoon and he had managed to hold her hand for a while.
Betty had commented to the nurses a while ago that she didn’t like the pictures on the wall in his room and the next time she went in they had down loaded the photo’s of the surf board etc from the Wight Surf History website and stuck them over the offending pictures! It really made Betty smile… such a lovely thought!
Betty has asked a carpenter to make a coffin from the collection of wood he had stored up in the shed…including a bit salvaged from the pub re-vamp. Something he would have loved that!
Archie had been in long term residential care in Shackleton unit in Ryde since 2009 due to Alzheimers and was looked after with great care and affection by wonderful staff until he slipped peacefully away on Friday 18th November 2011.
Betty still lives in their wooden house in Brighstone that they built together nearly 60 years ago.
Archie William Trickett, born 9th March 1922 in Brighstone and started work as an apprentice Carpenter with Buckett and sons at 14yrs old. He joined LDV (local defence volunteers) 1940 and later the Homeguard, joining up for the RAF 1942.
Archie went all round the UK training and eventually went to India and had many adventures, some involving Dutch Nurses! Once home he was very reluctant to ever travel again!!
Archie met Betty at Atherfield Holiday camp and married in 1955. They had two daughters Ann and Sarah.
In the mid 1960’s he got into surfing! Archie made his own surfboard and wetsuit and was still surfing in his 70’s. He loved watching the younger surfers catching waves and just wished he could stay out as long as they did, his hands used to go white with cold and he’d have to come in!!
Archies’ daughter Sarah came across the Wight Surf History website when by chance she decided to google her fathers name. Sarah remembers her Dad loading the surfboard up on top of the motor bike and sidecar… it was quite a sight! They also had a Ford Anglia (like Harry Potter!) with a purpose built wooden roof rack on top for the board. Archie would roll up all there ‘swimmers’ in beach towels, put the roll on his head and balance the board on top of that to walk along to the best bit of the beach…(before all the grockles and those weird lot of people who inhabited other parts of the Island over the downs invaded!!)
He carried on surfing into his ’70s and Betty still has that surf board he made all those years ago. He taught Sarah to surf on it when she was about 7. Sarah remembers quite happily standing up on it! Archie also made Sarah her own wetsuit from the offcuts of his homemade suit… Sarah thinks she may have been the first child to have a wet suit on the IOW! ‘I certainly don’t remember ever seeing another child with one,’ she says. ‘Once the zip got stuck and I remember I small group of young men round me with a pot of vaseline trying to get me free!’
Morocco by Jim Willis
Wow, where do you start when you’ve just had an amazing surf trip. This was the first time I’d been to Morocco and I’d heard a lot of scare stories, (every surf trip has them) over crowded, dirty water, people getting robbed, surf that’s too big and I have to say I never experienced any of this. O.K, the water quality was a bit bad on some days but no worse than I’ve surfed at Shanklin after a good storm.
Day 1 and we flew from Heathrow at midday and by half past four I was in the line up. It was small but a nice introduction for what was to come and I was surfing in board shorts. That night, after a dinner that cost little more that £3, it was clear the surf was building. The noise as I tried to get to sleep just kept getting louder. I know the phrase “rolling thunder” is a bit of a cliché but it really did sound like rolling thunder and it’s very hard to sleep through when it’s right under your window.
Day 2 and when I woke the swell had jumped from tiny to clean 8-10 feet lines and everywhere I looked there were point breaks going off. I surfed Panoramas and it was a bit of a humbling experience to say the the least. Getting outback wasn’t to much of a problem and even surfing the big powerful waves was O.K but getting back in was something else. The shore dump from waves that had already broken twice was massive and a bit like running the gauntlet. Boards were broken but thankfully not mine.
Day 3 and the swell had dropped to a nice manageable 6 foot. I was picking waves up on the point at Panoramas and riding them for about 500 yards. They were without a doubt the longest waves I’ve ever ridden. After just 5 waves and a 500 yard paddle back out I’d now paddled 2500 yards but only had 5 waves. My shoulders were killing me so it was time for lunch. Anyone that’s been there knows they grow the best bananas in the world. These are picked ripe, unlike our ones that are picked 6 months in advance and kept in airtight containers until the supermarket wants them. A kilo costs about 80p, the cheapest lunch ever! After they went down it was back out, another 4 waves, another 2000 yards of paddling and I was done. After another cheap meal and not feeling like doing much I was pleased to see a South African guy, James, already setting the projector up in the hotels little cinema. The word cinema doesn’t really do it justice. It’s a chill out area with cushions everywhere to crash on while you choose which one of the 200 surf films they have on the hard drive that you’d like to see projected onto a white wall.
Day 4 and the swell was pretty much the same as yesterday so it was another day at the office and more stupidly long rides. That night though I discovered the place we were staying had an amazing roof garden complete with hammock, guitar and another cushioned seating area big enough for about 50 people. The view, whether it was day or night was fantastic and there was always different people to meet up there. I think I had a drink and a chat with someone from nearly every continent up there at some point. South Africans, Aussies, Americans, Dutch, Germans, French, Irish, and even the Welsh.
Day5 saw the swell drop and by Moroccan standards it was small but still more powerful and clean than your average Island wave. For most of the morning the tide was too high for anywhere to break properly but as it dropped back the point at Panoramas starting working. Because it was small, maybe shoulder high, a hollow wave was running close in along the line of the rocks. Seeing one guy out I ventured out with your typical Brits abroad hangover and had what was one of the defining surfs of the trip. The guy that was out on his own was a local called Salem and after I’d introduced myself he told how the wave breaks, where to sit and what to expect. After some good old fashioned surfers banter, pulling leashes, flicking water and dropping in on each other, I had about 30 good fun waves. We were joined by a few others that day but most of them seemed to be frightened by the rocks so I think we had nearly every set wave. I’d made a friend and he asked me to stop by where he worked the next time it was working.
Day 6 and because of modern technology everyone knew what was coming. The chart was showing 17 foot and although it clearly wasn’t it was still big and ugly. We’d met a German guy called Ulv who was staying at the same place as us. He had a hire car and a sense of humour, I know I know but he turned out to be one of the coolest guys I’d ever met. Anyway, he offered us a lift to Agadir which was about the only place that was going to be small enough to ride. As we pulled into the car park the rain arrived and it was a race to get a surf in before it washed all manner of unspeakable things into the ocean. The wave was hideous. Clean and head high but shutting down in one big close out the length of the bay. I was glad to leave it behind. We spent the next hour driving round the city getting lost whilst looking for the supermarket for that all important ‘beer run’.
Day 7 and everywhere wass still massive and ugly. Ulv had an idea that Imsoune might be good and said he’d be glad of the company. Ims is a small fishing village about an hour and half up the coast, maybe less the way Ulv drives. The Japanese bought the rights to the best fish from this village and in return they built a harbour and fishery. When it’s massive everywhere else there’s a wrap around wave from the harbour that I’d heard sometimes goes on for 500 yards. We were the first to arrive and the tide was too high. Later as the tide dropped back and every surfer in Morocco descended on the place the waves got a little better but never that good. Ulv assured me it was because the sandbanks weren’t right and then added “just don’t mention zee war” which became the catchphrase of the day. As we drove back along the coast there was a point break, I don’t know the name there’s just too many, with one guy out enjoying a perfect overhead evening glass off to himself. Can’t win em all.
Day 8 was the only day I never surfed. There was big waves everywhere and the sun was out but the wind had picked up and after watching countless people fail to get out I decided to rest. All the locals where getting warmed up for the festival of Eid. It’s the biggest festival in the Muslim calender. After being warned that all the shops would be closed for two days I hooked up with a surf guide that worked there for another beer run. The supermarket was packed with Moroccans stock piling food so it was a bit like Tesco the day before Christmas. Everywhere you look you see people buying sheep or goats ready for Eid. They’re tied to roof racks, hanging out of boots or piled high on the back of low loaders. That evening I talked to a local guy called Mohamed who worked at the place we were staying. He explained a lot about his religion, the Berber people and their culture. By the end of the evening I’d made a friend and…T.B.C
Day9 and everywhere was a bit crap apart from one place, Anchors. It seems to be the one place that everyone wants to surf, has to surf and likes to say they’ve surfed but today it was fickle. I’m sure on its day it’s a world class wave, I’ve seen the photos, but today the tide was too high, it was crowded and after a steep take off and short ride it just sputtered out. Four guys on longboards were sat way out back and taking the lions share of set waves but then they were from Wales. I got out frustrated after 3 waves and walked back to the hotel to wait for the tide to drop back. I wandered round to Panoramas and asked Salem if he thought it was going to break. He told me to come back at 4 o/clock and we’d go in regardless of size. I went back and after a race across the rocks with him to see who could get out first I had the second best session of the trip. The tide starting pushing. The waves picked up to about shoulder height and once again we had the lions share. After about 40 waves in blistering heat I was surfed out. That evening I chatted with Mohamed again about his life and family until the wee hours of the morning and…
Day 10 Eid. I came downstairs for breakfast and the local staff had been replaced by the owner and manager. The staff were going home for Eid. Mohamed asked me if I’d like to be his guest and go with him and his brother to their family home and celebrate Eid. Still bleary eyed and knowing what to expect I hesitated before saying yes, I’d be honoured. The surf was pretty much flat everywhere as we drove towards the little village at the foot of the mountains where Mohamed grew up. His family had lived there for generations and I was unsure what to expect. For those of you that are squeamish go straight to Day 11. The houses in the village are simple. Concrete floors, bare walls and small windows, some rooms have none. The main room has a rug and cushions and after slipping your footwear off you’re invited to sit on a cushion while his mother serves breakfast. Fresh mint tea, warm home made bread and dishes of sweet honey, arogan oil, nuts, cake and not a pre-wrapped Kellog sign in sight. After breakfast Mohamed washes ready for prayer while I enjoy the silence with his mother. Nobody else in the little village spoke English and his mother spoke only Berber. It’s a language that most locals don’t write but learn by ear. Once he’d washed I walked up to the open air mosque with him but not being aloud inside I walked into the mountains to admire the view. Words aren’t going to do it justice so I won’t try. After about half an hour he drove up and picked me up with some friends, it was time.
We drove down and he changed into some old clothes, things were going to get bloody. He led me into a little stable with no roof where there were four older guys sharpening knives and his young cousin Mohamed, (popular name in Morocco). His cousin was only six years old but he said it was important for him to see what happens because one day he would have to do it. It’s a ritual that’s been taking place for centuries. One by one two sheep and three goats were lead in and after being laid on their side they had their throats cut. A bush is then placed under the head while the blood drains into the soil. The head is then severed and a sharpened stick is used to pierce a hole in it’s leg.
One of the men place their lips around the hole and the animal is then blown up like a balloon. Once inflated they beat the dead animal with a stick to loosen the hide. It’s then strung up, skinned and gutted. While this is happening women come in and out leaving washing bowls and water to clean and carry the innards. Apart from the blood nothing is wasted. After the third animal I was starting to feel queasy so I stepped out for some air. Little Mohamed followed and even though he didn’t speak a word of English he took me on a tour of his village. Once again I was invited into another home and more tea, bread and sweet dips appeared. The owner of this home had just finished doing his own sheep outside his front door and wanted me to take a picture of him holding the freshly skinned animal in his arms. I obliged and being the uncle of Mohamed he told that his home was now mine and I was welcome there any time. I arrived back at the stable just as the last carcass was being taken away to a kitchen and the teenagers were making away with the hides for later on. We went back to Mohamed’s and with little or no ventilation the place was filled with the smoke of cooking meat. Once again we kicked our shoes off and took our places on the cushions. First up was a skewer each with various parts of the animals internal organs including the lung. After that it’s the main course which is meat on the bone braised in a kind of gravy. There is no cutlery and everyone just tucks in with their right hand. Warm bread is dealt out like cards by mum to mop up the rich gravy. When this is gone and you feel like you can’t eat another thing a large plate of fresh fruit is placed on the table and everyone eats as much as they can as quickly as they can. I can only assume it’s to add some much needed roughage to the Eid diet. When the feast is over I ask to wash my hands and I’m led to the kitchen where water is poured over my hands with a cup. This is because the government have cut off the water supply because they want the land and everything is carried into the homes in whatever holds water. It seems they want to develop it and turn it into another Benidorm. After so much food it was time to walk it off and Mohamed took me to his beach, the beach he grew up on, the beach his grandfather carried a boat down to everyday to work the fish rich waters. Again, I can’t do it justice so I won’t try. To be taken in by a local and treated as one, to join his family for their biggest celebration, to be fed and watered and be asked for nothing in return but friendship was an honour, a privilege and the perfect end to the surf trip. Tomorrow I was going home.
There’s a million cultural and religious things I learned there that I haven’t touched on because I’m aware this is a surf story. All in all I’d say Morocco is one of the best surf destinations for a number of reasons and a few people from the Island that have stayed there agreed. Firstly it’s not a long haul flight so it’s cheap to get there and relatively quick. It’s still quite cheap as it’s not a part of the dreaded Euro. The dry sunny climate means there’s not a mosquito in sight, major bonus. The surf is excellent and I lost count of the amount of uncrowded and unridden point breaks in such a small area of coastline. Lastly, the Berber are amazingly warm and friendly people and if you treat them as a friend you will be treated as such yourself.
Surfing Etiquette
During the 1990′s the Isle of Wight Surf Club posted a Suring Etiquette cartoon page in their monthly newsletter. As you can tell from the cartoons there was a rivalry between Surfers and Surf Skiers/Kayakers (or affectionately called Goat Boats by surfers) at the time and it is clearly aimed at them. It is quite a comical take on surfing etiquette but some of it is still relevant today.
The cartoon rules were the brainchild of South African artist and surfer Phil Smuts. They were re-drawn here by IOW Surf Club member Carl Dubois.
1. Don’t Drop In
The surfer closest to the breaking part of the wave has the right of way. Always check your inside. To see you didn’t see anyone is inexcusable. This practice is highly dangerous on critical waves.
2. Don’t Hog Waves
With your greater paddling power you’re able to get far more waves than other surfers. Learn to share the waves and give a few. You will get more respect that way.
3. Maintain Control
Never attempt a manoeuvre when failure will cause you to collide with someone. Uncontrolled manoeuvres impress no one. 360s are dangerous in crowded situations. Use a fin at all times as well as seat belts and if inexperienced, a paddle cord
4. Don’t Paddle Out Thru Break
Go around, it’s safe and won’t spoil someones ride.
5. Be Polite
Trading insults and derogatory remarks only creates unnecessary incidents. Keep your cool and be nice.
6. Don’t Endanger Others
Often when you want to take off someone willbe paddling out and be in your way. Alternatively you can see a critical section ahead where, if you wipe-out you will land on top of someone. YOU MUST NOT PROCEED. Let that wave go and wait for another.
7. Share The Sea
If you want to lose the tag ‘Boatman’ you’ll have to play the game according to surfers’ rules. They were there first, so learn to give more than you get. Organised competitions will allow your ability to grow and you’ll learn to share the waves. Join your local club.
On a more serious note Surfing Etiquette signs are going up at Surf beaches all around the world. With surf equipment from body boards to SUP’s becoming cheaper and more accessible and surfing becoming increasingly popular safety and common sense in the water is starting to become an issue.
2011 British Interclub Championships
The Isle of Wight Surf Club team headed down to Woolacombe last weekend for the 2011 British Interclub Championships. Matt Harwood had put together a strong team with Doug Richards, Josh Jupe, Chris Mannion, Mark New and Craig Sharp joining him. This years event was being scored differently to previous years with only one day to fit everything in and there was only one heat for each team member. During free surfing the boys looked good, but during the heats they couldn’t seem to find the high scoring waves. Local knowledge paid off for the teams from Devon coming out on top. With the Island scoring 2nd’s, 3rd’s and 4th’s in their heats it wasn’t enough for a podium this year. In the Masters category the old timers in the team faired better, Craig and Chris showing that experience was the key coming 2nd overall.
2011 British Longboard Club Championships
Saturday 5th November at Saunton Sands, North Devon finally saw the 2011 British Longboard Club Championships take place. Alan Reed recently crowned British Masters Longboard Champion was there as part of the Masters team for the Hotdoggers Surf Club from Saunton North Devon. Al has been a member of the Hotdoggers club for over 10 years (Sadly the Island has yet to put a Longboard team together).
Each team member had to surf in a 25 minute heat with 12 teams competing from Scarborough , RN/RM , Bristol , Shore Surf Club, and the Hotdoggers. Al was up in the second heat and took 1st place in his heat helping the Masters team to 2nd place overall.
Sponsers of the event were; Second Skin, O`Neil, Cordural Lines, Dudleys , VW , BLU, Blacker Surfboards , Thatch , Errant Surf Travel. Indo Boards , Animal , North Core And Monster.
The Trophy presentation was at Cook Island, this was also the Hotdoggers End of Season Bash, 6.00pm til Midnight; a Carvery for only £6.50, a free bus from Barnstaple with pickups enroute returning at midnight, trophy presentations, raffle and DJ. Cook Island was just up the road from where I was staying so I dropped by for a quick pint and it looked like the Hotdoggers know how to through and end of season do.
Open – South Coast Surfing Championships
Open – South Coast Surfing Championships
The Open was very close throughout the event with some great waves being ridden in difficult conditions. Josh Jupe was definitely amped up for the final smashing a couple of big back hand snaps and punching the air after landing them. Matt Harwood looked very determined putting in some high scoring rides but James Ranson took the title of 2011 South Coast Open Surfing Champion with almost the last wave of the final.
Well done again to Matt Harwood and all the IOW Surf Club team for putting on a fantastic event. Also a huge thank you to Graham Taplin head judge and Raff and James Cave for judging to. Thanks to Claire and Amanda Crook for admin, and Bobby DK and Jamie Whittle for marshalling, Oliver Harvey and Nick Martin for organising, James Ranson and Chris Mannion for water safety. Thanks to Rapanui, Monster, Wight Trash and Island surf for prizes and to Paul Knight for making the trophies. Also thanks to Monster for the bbq and drinks and not forgetting all the competitors who did the South Coast proud in very difficult and heavy conditions and thank you to all the spectators who braved the weather.
The Wight Surf History are pleased to have been a part of the 2011 South Coast Surfing Championships, gaining funding from the West Wight Landscape Partnership for judges, banners, stickers and t-shirts for all competitors. A big thank you to the WWLP from Wight Surf History and the IOW Surf Club.
South Coast Surf Competition
While at the South Coast Surfing Championships at the weekend this trophy reappeared having not been seen since the early 90’s. On the trophy there are little shields listing all the previous winners going back to 1973. We would love to find out who the winners of the championship were prior to 1973 and obviously all the winners since. The last one on the trophy is Stuart Jones in 1991. I remember Craig Sharp winning it back in 1994 and Johnny Fryer was also a winner of the South Coast too. Please let me know if you have information of any others.
South Coast Surfing Championships
Individual Winners
Presented by
The Shore Surf Club
1973 – Eric Davies – Shore Surf Club
1974 – Roger Preston – Wessex Surf Club
1975 – Guy Penwarden – Wessex Surf Club
1976 – Rodney Sumpter – Shore Surf Club
1977 – Guy Penwarden – Wessex Surf Club
1978 – Guy Penwarden – Wessex Surf Club
1979 – Guy Penwarden – Wessex Surf Club
1982 – Paul Wiltsher – Shore Surf Club
1983 – Nick Schofield – Brighton Surf Club
1984 – Guy Penwarden – Wessex Surf Club
1985 – Rob Vaughan – Harbour Surf Club
1986 – Nick castle – Wessex Surf Club
1987 – Brian Haugh – Shore Surf Club
1990 – Dereck Dear – Wessex Surf Club
1991 – Stuart Jones – Isle of Wight Surf Club
I also have come across a report from the 1994 South Coast Surfing Championships held here at Niton on the Isle of Wight and have copied it here.
South Coast Surf Competition
After being postponed twice because of the lack of competitors and then surf, the South Coast Surf Comp was finally held on the weekend of November 19 & 20. Surfers from the Island and mainland competed at Niton in a good size wave 2 – 6 foot, helped considerably by the S.W. 5 – 6 wind.
There were a total of 30 competitors, a small number having travelled from ‘over the water’. The competition categories were Longboard, Open and Junior. The Longboard and Open had 4 heats – 1st and 2nd placed surfers going straight into the semi finals – 3rd and 4th placed surfers going ino the repercharge. The Juniors had the semi final and then a final.
Open – The tide had dropped back considerably, and the waves were a good deal smaller than they had been earlier on when the semi’s were held. A close fought competition with the eventual winner being Craig Sharp, beating the 1991 South Coast winner Stuart Jones to second place. Third was Ross Williams and fourth Paul Blackley.
Longboard – Three mainland surfers – Matt Terry, Simon Wilkins and Eric Davies along with well known Island surfer (and surf club chairman) Ray Hutchings, made it to the final. Another close contest, the victor being 1st Matt Terry, 2nd Eric Davies, 3rd Simon Firley and 4th Ray Hutchings.
Junior – 1st Ross Williams, 2nd Craig Sharp, 3rd Nick Dennington, 4th Ian Wardle
Other category winners were Richard Balding – Junior Longboard, Johnny Fryer – Cadet, Nick Dennington – Youth, Master Longboard – Eric Davies.
The competition was sponsored by Sola, G & S clothing and Offshore Sports. The winners and runners up receiving prizes ranging from bags and sweatshirts to vouchers for £20 .00-£100.00 to use to purchase a new Sola wetsuit.
The owners of the Castlehaven Caravan site were very hospitable. Snacks and hot drinks were very welcome amongst the cold surfers and damp spectators.
FULL LIST OF RESULTS
Open
Craig Sharp
Stu Jones
Ross Williams
Paul Blackley
Longboard
Matt Terry
Eric Davies
Simon Firley
Ray Hutchings
Juniors
Ross Williams
Craig Sharp
Nick Dennington
Ian Wardle
Longboard Master – Eric Davies
U16 – Nick Dennington
U14 – John Fryer
Junior Longboard – Richard Balding
Open Master – Eric Davies
Comments about South Coast Contest
Oops!! – Everyone saw the ten foot sleeper, bobbing past Castlehaven on Sunday everyone it seemed except for Ray!! CRASH ! Ray did a neat little manoeuvre straight into the path of the king sized log. Consequence, one flattened fin! Must be the underpants!!!!!!!!!!!
Watch out Paul!! – Picture the scene Sunday morning – earlyish! One cafe with stripy awning, one orange VW Camper with Roof Rack. BUMP one cafe without awning, one VW Camper with roof rack and smashing stripy awning. UMM Men Drivers
Testy Rigsy! – Chris – you ‘performed’ really well on Sunday morning, when Big C sent you out to test the paddle out and strong rip. Shame you didn’t ‘perform’ so well in the heats – what happened?
Unlucky – Recently returned from living in Newquay – it was almost a foregone conclusion that with his longboarding skills, Alan Reed would reach the longboard final. Or so it would have seemed. Unfortunately after two unintentional interferences, one in the first heat, and second in the semi’s it was a shame to se him knocked out.
Little’un – Well done to ten year old John Fryer from Brighstone. He was by far the youngest and the smallest competitor in the competition. He surfed in tough conditions over the weekend, but came away with the prize for the best cadet surfer.
BANG, BUMP, CRASH, SMASH – To all those hits and near misses – which involved short boarders, longboarders, surf skiers and bodyboarders – COME TO OFFSHORE SPORTS for all your ding and repair kit needs.
South Coast Movie Shorts
Here are a couple of short movies taken at the South Coast Surfing Championships 2011
Video by Joe Briscoe
Image and video care of Jeremy at Wight Review
Adrian Howell
Here is the sequence of Adrian Howell from Shore surf Club’s nice little wave just after the final
