How do you tell a story in one blog post that would take a chapter in a book?

What a trip.

Australia, living in it as I have for a lifetime that is getting longer, is big, but occasionally you need the odd reminder.

A three hour flight and a twelve hour drive over two days got us to our destination. One hundred kilometre or more stretches of no bends at all. No rises or dips in the road. Just straight and flat. Massive skies with wisps miles above. Stars at night like a living astronomical map with shooting starts by the minute.

A hour nd a half at 120 kms per hour over wild dirt to get to the nearest town.

Farms so big at one or two MILLION acres it takes hours to drive up "the drive".

Air interstellar clean, water gin clear and glove warm.

Alien sunsets.

Ancient reef cliffs and coral sand beaches.

Waves that can play and crush one set apart.

A crew of players, musical and board, of creativity and virtuosity, from across Australia and, in a young genius named Ryan Burch, from little old Encinitas in So Cal.

Jacques Cousteau's  dear old chef.

It was that good.

Now back in reality, sitting in front of an edit and wondering where to from here. Three torrid weeks, rehearsals and then an Australian tour, followed by the world.

I'm holding onto my hat. It is going to be quite a ride.

Pics: Local flavour, more to come.

An extended silence again. All because of preparations for The Reef.

In two days we jump on a plane and fly to the far north west of our wide brown land, and discover what is in store as we bury ourselves in the waters and desert in preparation for a national tour of live performances of Orchestra and Film which will later tour the world.

The project is in a way a follow up to Musica Surfica. Some of the same team in Richard Tognetti with his Australian Chamber Orchestra, Jon Frank, the matchless Derek Hynd and the Old Coot writing this as Director. To add insult to injury I'm producing it too, and this has provided more than a few headaches as I discover the joys of detail, and the clenching horror of Signing the Contract.

Occupational Health and Safety cast a shot across my bow and getting a realistic assessment of life in a desert surf camp has been an eye opener. The people I've been talking to are true professionals, but I have a very dim view of the bureaucracies that nanny the life out of our lives.

Bring back the days when we all took responsibility for our own stupidity (adventurousness).

One of my happiest memories is as a 7 year old on top of my mate's dad's car, lying on the roof racks, arms outstretched, as he careened down the road at 40mph, my best friend and I playing superman as dear old Tom (his dad) cackled gleefully in the driver's seat below.

Now he'd be locked up.

It's all a bit sad. 

But back to the Reef.

Keep an eye on the web. It's getting national coverage, with a Making Of Documentary happening at the same time, and journos from the big media coming to cover it.

Do I feel a little under the pump?

A bit, as do we all, but I will be glad to get my feet wet and discover what is in store.

Wish us all luck, and believe me it is going to be full of surprises. Because that part has already started.

But that is another story. (Think Derek Hynd)

Pic: Some idea scribbles for the opening, from my little black book. Most likely it won't be this, as first thoughts rarely are.

 

Well Bell's has come and gone, the enlightening lunacy, the crazy crowds.

I say enlightening because amidst the madness were the frequent explosions of brilliance from the various pro surfers in the line up and the long dawned realisation, punctuated by what I saw, that I will never do what they do... ever, though I do draw some solace though from the thought that I now live here and most of them... don't.

This past week has been pretty lack lustre, though today it is beginning to show with a small swell. Perhaps this afternoon I might get a little sneaky paddle. A quick splash this morning saw old "not as fat as before" boy a bit off, though a last wave brought a smile back.

Today is eldest son Joey's 20th birthday, and with it the jolting thought that it has been that long. Of course it seems like yesterday, and a whole family has pretty much grown up and flown the coop in that time.

Dear Beelzebubbles at just turned 17 continues to butt his head against everything. I swear I've never seen so much fight in a person. My only hope is that the surges of hormonal nascent manhood simmer down a little, or enough, to allow the brain to work as it should, and realism to overcome that rampant dissatisfaction with this lunatic world we've created.

Another deep breath, then into another day. And so it goes.

In four weeks we depart to film The Reef. 

Seventeen days, touching forever. 

Some of the same crew from Musica Surfica, and a few new faces too. I am up to my armpits in spreadsheets and about to get a risk management report. 

Ya gotta laugh. 

How do you do a risk management report on the Gnaraloo Reef if the plan is to go surfing.. finless, on one of the heavier lefts around if any size arrives?
 
I imagine it'll run to one page. 

Two words.

Don't go.

Derek Hynd is taking a tiny but merry (at the start) band on a 6000 kilometre Pied Piper run across the top, through some of the wild lands and deserts. He's giving himself ten days to do it and he better not be late. 

After all he is the star of the show, and his trip will open it when it hits the screen as part of the live Orchestra and filmed accompaniment performance piece that will be The Reef.

Probably one of the few times you'd like to be a bug stuck to a windscreen. It will be an interesting ride.

Pics for today: Just a bit of the local colour from the last few days, and Winki a couple of hours ago.

And I promised I'd post more often.

Sorry.

It must be something about the immediate access to a coastline, plus a fair amount of swell over the past couple of weeks, coupled with 'things to do' that has made a post on the old blog 'something I'll get to tomorrow".

Last weekend was a highlight with waves in the pretty big range, somewhere between 8 and 12 feet depending on what measuring system you subscribe to. Not perfect but for Winki a good direction. It was fun once you got out the back and managed to get one amidst the scrabbling crew and the crazy sweep that inhabits the place over about 6 feet.

Paddle paddle scramble paddle scramble duckdive maybe catch a wave. 5 waves in three hours. Two sort of keepers.

As I said. Fun.

Otherwise it's been a fairly constant swell that has seen me catching the imperfectly winded afternoons  following perfect mornings I missed as I keep to 'list discipline' and remain productive with all the delights that pepper the area.

The other great distraction has been pre-production on The Reef. Now only six weeks away and 17 days of lunacy filming in the north west of Western Australia.

A major disappointment is the loss of Cyrus Sutton and maybe Ryan Burch through injury,. We are now short two hot American goofy footers so if anyone has suggestions for replacements I'm up for it. From the US. Goofyfooter. Happy to challenge a challenging wave without fins.

I know. A big ask. Only the Brave.

Pics for today. Some random shots from the past week or so.

Finally, finally, I am finding a rhythm here, where the day begins with the sound of magpies, and the not too distant roar of the ocean.

Perfection you might think, but with the return of the errant son, life deconstruction to ongoing and not so far totally successful reconstruction of a balance of income and living, plus preparing for an intense four months of film making that begins just about now, and you begin to get a picture of "it ain't been all beer and skittles."

That pesky devil wind has continued its march, though there continues to be the odd day delivering some relief with offshores and some swell. These brief windows have been jumped on, and the crowds have been young and hungry. This has done me no favours but nonetheless three or four sessions a week, taking the place of gyms and running unless you want to, well... it doesn't stink.

This evening ended a good day. A potential client made contact, and they belong to a group that you'd be proud to help.

Nearly everything on my list got ticked off, except a couple of bills, but they can wait a little longer.

Beelzebubbles behaved, and the late light had me bolting off with the snapper just to catch a few muckaround moments. With this photogenic wonderland about it is going to be fun when I finally score a good camera and lens.

As ever I'll keep you posted, hopefully with a little more frequency than the last weeks.

Pics: Just round the corner, just about an hour ago.

It's a funny thing, moving house, especially when you move to a place you've been chasing for two thirds of your life but step into the reality of making a living while attempting to live a dream.

We've dropped anchor four minutes from Bells, and an hour and a half from most of my life's work. Stuff is on the boil and I am now getting into gear for several projects that I have high hopes for. In the mean time the winds have been mostly from the devil direction, with weeks of on-shores, the odd smattering of off, and a little bit of swell.

My errant son has returned home with a carpetbag full of bad habits and an attitude to match, but I am glad to have him with us, bless his barbed wire, ...er cotton socks. Our journey continues.

Totally under inspired to write, mostly from utter shagged-ness, and too much to process as the emotional roller coaster of relocation lurches towards the scariest ride on Magic Mountain.

The highlights of three weeks so far include a high tide body bash with a hand board and small alaia yesterday just a 100 yards from home, and a few individual waves that have had me acting surprised that I did that.

Mostly though it is the intense quiet at night, albeit a quiet punctured at around 4am many mornings as a possum lands on the roof from a nearby tree with all the finesse of a fat burgler. You read it right. Nothing catlike about this creature.

Must be eating  a lot of some neighbour's fruit.

It ain't coming from me.

Pics. A couple of dawns over the past few days, plus our friendly new pets having their morning snack, and a young Chinese lass, visiting Bells, with a clear lifetime companion in Little Pooh Bear, on location. 

I'm pinching myself all this is out the back door.

Well it's been quite a while since the last post, for a variety of reasons, but one great big one in particular.


We moved house.


A long time coming, and driven mostly by circumstances financial and unwanted, but the up side is it has forced our hands and moved us to the coast. It is a big punt, income sources become just that little more classed in the maybe department, but I... we, have to say it is much quieter at night. 


I expect when there is a swell that might not be the case, as, as the crow flies we are about 200 metres if you're lucky from the mighty Southern Ocean, and exactly four minutes by car from the Bell's car park.


Yes, I timed it. And I can run there in fifteen...(ish)


Fortuitously we have moved in in a two weeks of onshores run, which has been good as there have been no distractions from the traumas of home making. Needless to say I will have my ear out for the boom of the next swell and look forward to getting more surf fit that I've been for many a long year, and working hard to make my sun damaged skin even more so.


Outside of this I've been developing a project that hopefully will give birth to more in a similar vein. I had the pleasure, a few weeks back, of interviewing a great man named Sir Gustav Nossal, and later bending an hour and a half conversation on a life devoted to fundamental discoveries in immunology, into four and a half minutes.


My aim was to get to the heart of a man who manages to blend humility with a vast and potent intellect. The piece has now gone up on The Conversation, a new forum for, as they describe it, scientific rigour with journalistic flair.  It is well worth exploring. 


As for my chances for getting more of these off the ground, I could do with a few positive responses. First cab's off the rank have been great, but the more, and the more international, the merrier.


I rarely ask for help, but please hop on line and say how much you like it. 


But only if you do.


Pics: Sir Gus, and my new home break... (not that you haven't seen it before)..



In Conversation with Gus Nossal from conversationEDU on Vimeo.