Its been a slow season down south, couple of big swells, mostly with shitty winds. At home we were getting itchy feet, but so were a couple of mates on the other side of the globe. Alex (Gray) and Chops (Nic Lamb) had been pumping emails back and fourth to me for months now. There motivation and thirst for shippies was something else. I wouldnt even have to check for swells, because as soon as a blob would even look remotely like it could produce, guaranteed either Chops or Alex (or both) would email me asking my thoughts. But Shipsterns isnt as forecast friendly as many other waves around the world.

The weather patterns can change in a split second (which happens nearly every swell), which is why each year theres always a couple of big swells me and my mates still get to surf by ourselves. It could be howling onshore (as predicted) and just after lunch a sea breeze would kick in creating light offshores. Or it can be predicted to be 40 knots southwest, but just as the sun comes up the winds will kick in with a land breeze and strong offshores will fan the crooked lumps of ocean for the early hours of the morning. These are the times where if you dont live there, you aint scoring it.

Over the months talking with the boys from the States, i mentioned these scenarios. So when this last swell began to appear the boys got there froth on. Conditions were far from looking ideal, but something in the weather pattern just got me excited. It was looking big, huge almost. If we could battle the 45 knot onshores on the jetskis, theres a chance we could ride some mammoth mutating lumps. The next day of the swell was also looking like it might provide with some small clean paddlers. So Al and Chops, frothing at the bit, booked there tickets, knowing full well it could be a complete hoax. I guess thats what i loved about these guys, they just wanted to come down and check out the place, the wilder the conditions the more exciting it sounded to them.

The day of the swell was exactly as forecast, 45 knots onshore. Alex jumped on the back of my ski, while Chops walked in with Treeks (filmer). That ride around to shippes was rediculous, the wind chop and backwash turned a 35 minute ride into one lasting almost an hour. Once around at the stern we were briefly disheartened, as it looked utterly disgraceful. Eight ft burgers were lapping over the reef, but due to the long period swell we still had hope there could be some bombs. And twenty minutes after we arrive we seen our first taste of what the day had in store for us. A solid 12ft plus nugget began deforming along the reef then blasting its insides out into the channel. I gave Alex the nod, which translated to, “it aint gonna get any better than this, so get ya arse in the water and lets get shit done”.

The next few hours the yanks proceeded to throw themselves over the ledge and into oblivion. Driving the ski was a task in itself, due to how windy and angry the ocean was, it was hard to get on a plane and get enough speed to get him on a wave. Once the rope had been dropped he would then have to negotiate the speed bumps even before he’d hit the first step. It was by far from ideal conditions to surf shippies for your first time. Alex ended up busting his arm on his last wipeout and although Chops didnt make this wave, he still got to stand tall in a shippies beast. Both surfers felt the power and fury this day and although it wasnt as big as hoped, it still got there hesarts racing. Local lad “wipeout mckean” got the bomb, living up to his name and took on a 15ft slab that he didnt have a chance on.

That night i took Alex into the hospital. The arm wasnt broke, but it wasnt in a good way. The doc gave him a script for pain relief and told him he would be out of the water for a good stint. Alex was devo’d, and tomorrow was starting to look the goods for some nice paddlers. We all walked in the next day. I love the walk, it means something to me as my friends and i did it for years on end when we first started surfing there, i guess it just brings back memories. Poor Alex’s arm was wrecked, there was no way he was surfing, but he still gave himself the benefit of the doubt and lugged his gear on the one hour walk in hope of the pain suddenly retreating.

Conditions were clean and the sky was sunny. The swell had dropped considerably, but we still had hope to get a couple. Once in the water after 2 hours of waiting for a good one, i began to realise things werent looking as good. The long breaks between sets would give your body plenty of time to feel hypothermic and we would find ourselves paddling in circles just to try stay warm. Only a few fun waves got ridden that day, but overall it gave the boys a taste of what the wave does. Rudi Schwartz got wave of the day with a super deep paddler. They experienced it at both ends of the scale, big and stormy, and small and clean. They also really appreciated how beautiful the place was and not once did they complain about the long travels, early starts and torturous walking tracks. They were troopers and earnt good respect from that.

The afternoon was spent in the sun downing brews and spinnin stories with the local lads. im sure Alex and Nic will be down again soon enough and with fingers crossed im sure there gonna score what they come down Tassie for……