To Surf or not to Surf, that is the Question ….

Almost a month into a Tasmanian winter I checked my online surfing app to see a mega swell forecast for the weekend of 4th and 5th of July. Forecast was bigger on the Saturday, but swell direction a bit too westerly to really blow things up at a number of point breaks about thirty minutes drive from home in Hobart Tasmania. The Sunday forecast, while a slight drop in swell, its direction improved by about 10 degrees to be coming from South south west.

Especially in south east Tasmania with all our nooks, crannies, bays and generally crumpled coastline, that 10 degrees can make a huge difference and Sunday was dialed in to focus on. Every day leading up to ‘Big Sunday’, the forecast was checked, double checked and triple checked with froth potential increasing dramatically. Dreamy forecast light offshore winds and early morning low tide added to the ‘froth’ factor. Only issue being that the personal froth factor was dampened by stuff all surfing in almost eighteen months.

After 28 years away have been back in the hometown for exactly a year after spending the previous ten years in Malaysia. There, my surf gear was minimal consisting of boardshorts, rash vest and bucket hat. Before Malaysia I spent eighteen years in West Aus surfing in a mix of surf gear from 3mm winter wettie and booties to spring suit and occasionally boardshorts and rash vest during summer. I surfed heaps in the West as I lived only 5-10 minutes drive from the coast. Surf time in Malaysia was restricted to a four to five month swell window during the north east Monsoon season in which I crammed in as much surfing as life would allow. The last surf there was February 2025.

Late July 2025 and back in Hobart, I went wetsuit and accessories hunting for something that would keep me winter warm – the thicker than average wetsuit, booties, hood and gloves without too much change out of $1000. I could afford, but something held me back and I didn’t go through with the procurement.

As it turned out Winter and Spring didn’t really turn on many surfing delights which vindicated the non-purchase, being additionally reinforced by six weeks of Spring howling westerly gales. They just didn’t stop! However, I did fall back in love with our astonishing coastline and had many a winter and spring walk along it with the question always hanging – would I take the plunge into the colder than average waters again? The short answer was almost no.

I did finally buy a wetsuit standard 3mm steamer in early November and replaced some truly knackered booties that had been stashed at Dad’s house since a three week surf trip of non stop Bruny Island waves back in 2012. What an awesome trip! Ah the memories.

I finally made the plunge and paddled out twice at Carlton River to waves on the mediocre side with my surfing even worse. Only other time was a cheeky Monday morning at shoulder high Orford river back in May. It was almost too quick for my seriously rusty surfing form, though I did manage to snag a few and have a measure of fun that was distinctly lacking from the other two pathetic performances.

The one thing that surf reminded me of was just how cold a person can get from a mere hour and half in the water, with a diminishing May sun having little to no warming impact. I became seriously cold taking at least an hour for the body to feel relatively normal temperature again.

Dark thoughts have pervaded the surfing desire since then – am I just too damn old at 67? How can I possibly get even half surf fit if surfing only happens occasionally? Can I really stand to put on all that rubber to surf poorly and to take an hour to recover normal body temperature? If there are other surfers out will I ever get a wave as I certainly can’t out paddle anyone in my rubberised cocoon and I certainly don’t want to be blowing takeoffs because of my lack of fitness and general rustiness.

The too old question was just a brief flirtation as I know that if back in warmer climates I would definitely be taking the plunge and as much as possible. Would I take the plunge on big Sunday? From a warm in the water perspective, things had improved in theory as a mate had lent me his retired winter wettie and with the booties were not a bad combination. Lack of gloves and hood sort of concerned me as the air temp was sub 10 degrees C. Wimp? Mmmmm … yep!

But that swell forecast? Couldn’t miss out to at least look at the wave frenzy. Saturday night the board and gear stowed in the car with alarm set for 6.15am. At 6.45 I leave home with the eastern sky waking up to pre-dawn light, about 70% clear sky, air temp at 4 degrees. The Derwent River almost a mirror and head over the Tasman Bridge to Lauderdale. Driving over the hill from Rokeby I briefly glimpsed the ocean, spotting white water hitting a not so distant headland and the anticipation levels pumped up.

I drive to a certain carpark at the end of a dirt road on the other side of Lauderdale with the only problem being that there was nowhere to park. Cars, utes, small trucks and vans were everywhere. Had never witnessed so many vehicles parked there before. Plan B was hatched to walk in from Lauderdale and while there were some vehicles already parked up, I managed to find a spot and parked.

Opened the car door to the glorious sun poking over the horizon with corresponding salmon hues to the horizon clouds. I walked about 100 metres to where I could view velvet groomed lines marching in. Taking out the pocket binoculars seeing many black objects numbering roughly 30 bodies bobbing in the water and waves wrapping down the point.

Here we were at 7.30am and the Points were already packed out. Any rising ‘froth’ levels evaporated on the spot. I visualised doing the gear change, taking the plunge and being out paddled and out competed for every wave on offer. Frustration, cold and zero waves would be my experience out there.

Back to the car I ruefully walk totally cognisant of my surfing incapacity, indeed the pathetic mind being defeated even before I had a red hot go! I pulled out and put on the jacket and warming hat, locked the car and walkies I go. The panoramic early morning views of sun, colour and the swell partially lightened the soul as I descend down the hill towards ‘surf city’.

Eyes cast outward to the unfolding colour laden sunrise and pan towards the break as a tiny dot is observed holding its line in the shadow of the wave face and hooking into a final cutback with the spray back amplified by those early sun rays. It was mesmerising, not realising that I had stopped with the body swaying to the body’s subconscious surf memory tracking the lines.

On I go down fifty odd steps and gravel path to the beach and along to where the point starts, all the while the eye being hypnotically drawn to the rhythm of ocean swell impacting land at just the right angle on a light offshore day. Dreamy indeed and even dreamier for the dude on the wave just as I reached the shoreline.

Almost dead low tide with shoreline rock shelf exposed for me to happily rock hop to the very outside of the point with one eye to the waves and the other watching where I was stepping. Stopping as a set finally rolled through with one overly enthusiastic surfer eating it on a way too late takeoff to be munched and crunched at the bottom of the whitewater waterfall. His failure led to happiness and success for others who had bided their time a small distance away at a slightly less risky takeoff spot.

The relentless pulse of ocean swell satisfied some like my knee boarding buddy Bob who as per usual gained his fill of many waves. Others might state that Bob is a bit of a wave hog, but as he is my mate I would never suggest such a thing. For others, not so much fun as I chatted to one that had just exited the water advising me he had one mere non set wave in the hour and half he was out there. Thoughts drifted to leaving the board and gear in the car and decided it was a wise choice.

I had fun watching mistimed takeoffs into the crispy pits of impact hell, not paddling enough to just miss the take off, some mini barrels, some with the hard slash cut backs and many just enjoying a down the line experience on some silky faces. Photos were snapped, but with the sun on the back of the waves, the wave face was in semi darkness resulting in being a tad disappointed when I had a good look at home later.

The trek continued towards the outer point and not being terribly shocked (after the carpark debacle earlier) to count at least 65 surfers in the water. From a distance I watched for a while, turned around and headed back to the car all the while turning the head oceanward for one more glimpse of a rare south east Tasmanian treat.

It was now late morning, and unbeknown to me many more had turned up to feast at the next point in this four point lineup. Motor vehicle chaos greeted me about two hundred metres from where I had parked and it took fifteen minutes to get out of the gridlocked gauntlet from a back street in Lauderdale.

As I finally get back to the main road the mind casts further afield to the last of the point breaks where Neil the Elephant Seal has been relaxing for the past few weeks being a major tourist attraction to this normally laid back and quiet coastal town. Half the town surfs and for many outsiders especially longboarders it is the easiest accessible point break. The imagination went into overtime contemplating how maddingly crowded the streets, traffic and point break were.

Meanwhile back to the questioning title of this piece – “To surf or not to surf?”

Were there others like me that inceasingly frothed and then de-frothed due to their surf rustiness, cold water and crowd aversion? Most likely, but for every pathetic failure such as myself or the frustration of “one wave man“, there would have been many more whose memories of particular waves eternalised their way to the brain being permanently on tap to recall, sway and absently smile in time to every millimetre of the lines cut on those smooth wave faces.

For me, I left the Points satisfied in the pleasure of the coastal walk, witnessing the glorious winter morning and admiring the commitment of many especially the pre-dawn crew to hook into this relatively rare pumping SSW swell. Yes I will surf again as the long soul love of moving with the ocean rhythms hasn’t left. When? Definitely not this winter! In the next six months? Most likely. Between the New Year and late Autumn? Most definitely!