A weekend of winter has just swung through, though blessedly not with the winter water temperatures. Snow though, has arrived early in the mountains, and with a thumping wind and rain bucketing, it made for an elemental go out on a not sunny at all Sunday morning.
Richie and I had to have the obligatory coffee and croissant at our favourite St Kilda cafe (I almost like this bit as much as the surf), heading down and gas bagging with a steamy hot cup cupped in our not yet blue hands. Conversation naturally turned to the unavoidable misadventures with kids and wives, interrupted by hopeful projections of wave quality and weather.
Hit the coast with me begging to stop by Patagonia to pick up my new wetsuit, Rich going naaaa ya can wait ya weak bastard... but Rich, it rained on my old one last night... I hate a wet wetty, but no... too early anyway and he took a short cut bypassing Torquay. Poo.
Blowing like a Bangkok hooker (not that I know) it was bloody freezing, and the usual suspects (Winki and Bells) looking either crowded or fat, in that order, we opted to "have a look at Boobs". Nestled at the bottom of the cliffs halfway between Torquay and Winki, Boobs is a fun right, with a fun left too, works on mid to high tide and is rarely as crowded as it's more famous cousins up the road. It's downsides are a very dodgy treck along the cliff base on razor sharp rocks, made especially painful if you've forgotten your booties.
Which we did.
Hip hop ouch ooch trip stumble shit fuck ahh the water ain't so bad after all that.
So out we went, and had a great fun surf, I got some belters, with a rising tide and swell gradually filling it up and creating a big backwash as it began to thump up against the cliffs.
Heading across to make our way in, and snag a quick wave at the next break up, the descriptively named Razorblades, from out the back I realized that getting in was going to be treacherous in the extreme as the high tide was making access to walkable shoreline a hit or miss affair, with a river like sweep compounding the issue.
I managed to get a final last fun wave, and as I was pulling out sneaked a look at my prospects of leaving the water.
No bloody way as a peek seawards saw a set approaching half again as big as the one I'd just ridden.
A quick dash out the back and I did the go 'round to try again.
No lulls, the sweep and bang crash against the cliff getting worse, I though discretion the better part of valour and opted to ride the sweep through, past the steps and... go the kilometre along the cliff line to Torquay.
Hang the embarrassment.
Still... it was rather majestic as I paddled and drifted my way, happily putting out of my mind the fact that the last shark attack (Great White) in Victoria was just nearby around this time last year. Ho hum.
A belly ride in on a close out with a sandy rinse in the shorebreak, up the stairs and the long walk back to the car, to find Richie looking a little worried as I seem to have disappeared.
He'd managed to find a way in, brave lad that he is, but got cut up on hands and feet as he was dutifully rewarded for his efforts.
Change in the rain, but who bloody cares, and a cracking good BLT for lunch.
Pics: Steps on the way down through the trees, Richie checking out the view and strange companion overlooking Boobs, and the view from Boobs to Winki with Bells capping in the far distance, with a rain band getting ready to make getting into wetsuits a joy.
PS: Question: Any one out there got a Patagonia suit... and what are they like? I've typically had a Ripcurl 4/3 for winter and was considering the change to try one out. Mine is three years old and getting to the end of it's life.