The last week or so has been ridiculously busy, the surf average at best and the Barbarians at their worst.

But it has been a good week too.

Yesterday the delightful Jamie Watson from Pineapple Love interviewed me for her blog, on the back of her seeing Musica Surfica at the San Francisco Ocean Film Festival.

It was fun to do and gave me an opportunity to say thanks again to the people that made the highly unlikely thing that was Musica Surfica possible.

Then this morning I received an email from Rachel Caplan for the Festival saying:

"It is my pleasure to inform you that MUSICA SURFICA won the Adventure Award at last weekend's San Francisco Ocean Film Festival.

The film had a wonderful reception from a sold-out house and was a clear festival favorite. There was much applause from the audience throughout, especially after each of the musical pieces.

The Adventure Award is giving each year "for the best-told adventures in, on, or around the Sea". The screening committee gave this award to MUSICA SURFICA to honor the film's many achievements - the direction, cinematography, editing, score (of course!) and script are all superb."

So that bucked me up a bit too...well.. a lot... and almost cured my tension headache.

Almost.

Back to work.

Pics are courtesy of Jamie and show the crowd at the the Festival, and Richard taking off at the beginning of the film.

I haven't said much about Musica Surfica for what must be.. well...minutes, but if you are in San Francisco this weekend then you will, if you're up for it, be able to see our flick on the Big Screen at the San Francisco Ocean Film Festival.

We're in the Official Selection, which is a blast as this festival is not only about surfing. Engaging in all manner of things aquatic, our presence in it, in some pretty special company, is a privilege. To add to our exposure on the west coast, last week Surfer Magazine's Brad Melekian wrote a great review for the San Diego Union Tribune which you can read here.

At the end of the article you'll discover a link to an Australian Chamber Orchestra performance due to go off in La Jolla in April, so those of you down/up there can wander along and see just what all the fuss is about. I reckon if you managed to wander up to Richard after the show and said... mate, you up for a splash??... he'll probably take you up on it.

Pics today... the poster for the San Francisco Ocean Film Festival, and a shot from way back when it all began, day one at Martha Lavinia Beach, with Jon Frank on camera, Craig Johnson, our laugh a minute sound guy, Derek in front of the microphone, and Sage Joske looking on. That's the back of me too, standing in a hole.

Well... I think I was.

There are weeks and there are weeks.

For south eastern Australia what has been going on with the fires in our state has up to today overshadowed all thought of waves I've missed, or caught, or seen.

Not that I've managed much. Last weekend, to escape the hottest on record heat (47C), and while half the state burned, I headed to the coast with the Devil and tried to get a splash. Arrived at Bells, and seeing the wind direction, headed to Southside, which is, you guessed it, on the south side of the Bells headland.

A packed carpark revealed a wedding of all things about to go off, or get blown or burned off. It all felt like Armageddon up there, and a couple of hours up the road it really was the end of the world.

As Tom and I hot footed it down to the beach we passed a Scottish Piper, kilt, sporran and beet root face, trying to muster up enough wind to get the pipes a piping, though he looked as if he was about to do a good rendition of 'I'm a Little Teapot' instead of Amazing Grace. Out in the water the screaming offshore blew us off more waves than we caught, but it was cooler, and then much cooler as a force 9 gale otherwise known as the Cool Change, gave some relief where we were, but as it moved inland all it did was provide a wind change that fanned the inferno and killed a few more people.

Sunday, surf rubbish, all feeling flat as what had happened began to sink in, we popped into the skate park for the kids to have a muck around, some of it on a mountain board on the hill nearby, and then a quick splash for the kids in tiny waves at Lorne, Rod's son Benji taking his fins off and spinning, my Tom practiced his take offs.

Then home.

The fires a week later are still burning, and Melbourne is shrouded in smoke.

The pics: Tom and Benji, ...and Tom from my iPhone on the mountain board, looking a bit like one of those wide angle from the water to the shore shots, except the wave is missing.

On the weekend away I went to a little party up in the hills behind Apollo Bay. A sixtieth birthday, (oh God I'm getting invites to sixtieths now) the birthday girls, as they were twins, were friends of my mate Bob's, and the party was at the home of one of the two, a Herb Garden and Nursery she and her husband had built up over the past thirty years.

The property had that patina only years of hard work and love can bring, rich with perfume, and the smell of burning sausages.

Contrary to expectations, the guests ranged from nought to well past sixty, this being such a community gathering it drove home the difference between a precious, don't bring the kids, let's not make a mess sensibility of the same party in the inner city, and the inclusive delight that this little soiree had in spades. Between my feet were little ones, wandering amongst the tables were early teens trying to score a sip from the odd errant glass, a dad stood with his newborn, with hovering admirers wanting a hold, a rekindling of that delicious feeling of a life so new and tiny in your arms.

If only they didn't cry and poo so much.

I mixed, me being the blow-in and Bobby introducing me. Once or twice my name was recognized, as, it being Apollo Bay, I have the pleasure of showing Musica Surfica at their Music Festival in late March. My fifteen minutes of fame gets to be extended, just a bit as my name is on the program and clearly some people have a good memory.

So the evening progresses, I've had a couple of nice chats and am well into my second glass of red when the call comes to sing Happy Birthday.

Making my way into the rambling, art filled house, the crowd opens a little to allow me a passage to a spot right in front of the cake, just behind a gaggle of four year olds, awestruck by the candles, and the Birthday Girls, one resplendent in a pink tutu just so you could tell them apart. The song was sung, candles out and then the band lit up for a few songs.

Joining them was the non tutu wearing twin, the lady of the house, who happily whipped out her flute from who knows where, and off they went, with a little set of songs that had the tiny ones in front up and prancing.

They went unnoticed at first, but then I looked down and realised that the show going on at just under three feet was the Best Show in Town. Five very little girls were in the groove, fairy arms with delicate fingers tracing cloud shapes and circles as they tippy toed about in the tiny space that they owned.

Above them we all stood smiling, cameras were out trying to capture the moment, we laughed, we watched and the songs kept coming. A couple of the photographing mums abandoned the snapping and had to get tapping, so soon the little ones had company, the floor got crowded and the moment happily dissolved as they all joined in.

I'd left my camera in the car, so no pics to accompany this little yarn, but I began the winding drive down a star roofed Wild Dog Road with a smile a mile wide.

The pic is a drawing I did of Tommy when he was about the same age, yet to evolve into the Devil Incarnate, and probably just before he fell off the fence and broke both his arms. The little wretch couldn't keep out of trouble, even then.

This past weekend here in Australia has been the Australia Day holiday, when cars fly the flag, people get awards, honours are bestowed and others get sunburnt, or drunk, or fall over.

Happily none of the above happened to me, I just took a couple of days down the coast with the boys, cleared out to give Sue some free time as she had to work on the holiday, and getting rid of the three beasts is as good as a holiday anyway.

So I packed up the ratbags and we headed south for some waves, skating and just a bit of relaxing.

My old mate Bob has managed to carve a niche for himself and his family at a place called Apollo Bay, the view from his house you'd kill for, and the surf in the region is pretty damn special. Unfortunately, because I was catering for the kids, I had to avoid those spots that would have done my heart some good, and opted to go for the softer, easier spots that make learning a more enjoyable experience.

We had some fun surfs, the skate dude always itching to stop at the local park when we'd finished with the salty stuff, and I kept a lid on my frustrations as the swell was pumping and the number of spots going off before the sea breeze beggared description. My saving justification for missing most of it was that the crowds were beyond belief, and the three surfs I had, though in onshore conditions and less than optimum shape, were only the three of us, having a laugh.

They both got a few good ones, while I for the most part rode the finless, much to Tom's embarrassment, but I made some more progress and actually spun on one wave. Why I should find it so hard, well try forty years of muscle memory telling me you shouldn't be going backwards and you'll have an idea.

Today's shots... the view from Bob's place, Tommy exiting the water as taken by Joey, while carrying my board as he'd busted the nose off the board I'd just bought. Ouch.

And me goosing it on the finless. The guy is still alive.

This week we stare down 5 consecutive days of 40Cplus, so as half the world freezes, we melt.

Back from holidays but with no bragging rights whatsoever.

Usually when I go on my holiday up the coast I score in one way or another but this time round from a quality surf point of view I was well and truly skunked. Not that I didn't get the odd fun wave, but where usually I would score a three hour session at least every other day I was in the end dragging myself into the water just to get wet.

Well not quite as the big plus was that instead of me going feral as there were waves everywhere waiting for me, me, me the relative low quality had me spending a lot more time with my two lumps as they seemed to really get it together this trip.

Not that they were ripping or anything remotely similar, but they discovered they really enjoyed just being out there.

I never had to convince Joey, but Tom, the argumentative Hell Boy, always said... "Naaaa, skating's way harder to learn, way better to do and water is just soft compared to concrete and... and...and...."

You get the drift.

So imagine my joy when we're sitting out the back and Tom's just sitting next to me and observes.." you know Dad, it's really nice just being here isn't it?"

Bing!!!

The Light Went On.

To the point where after watching him in dreadful onshore conditions force himself through the shore break time after time, and really work for a wave... well - I went down the local surf shop and bought him a second hand board more suited to his still diminutive stature so that he had half a chance at duck diving the thing and something that would allow a decent learning curve.

An early birthday present and one of the few times I was grateful that these days with the influx of asian boards the resale value of surfboards is the pits. For a snap I picked up a very nice little 6 footer that floats him fine, has no dings and should see him through some of the impending growth spurt.

Joey is happy with his old board thank God, and so I hope to have them with me on more trips through the year.

The joke now is they argue like there's no tomorrow over who did the best re-entry, or has the best style, or "my carve was better than yours", when the truth, as we all know from our own self reflection is that they never look as good as they feel.

For now though I'll let them enjoy the journey and try and encourage them and enjoy watching them grow in all ways as I slide relentlessly toward pathetic little splashes.

As for the rest of my time there, I ran (plodded) a fair bit, walked a lot, gazed at fishies, took photos, drove Tom to the skatepark more times than I care to mention, patched scrapes, caught up with friends and read two books.

Fortunately I didn't have to work but first day back and I've been up to my armpits and really could have had a lighter day to sort myself out.

The shots?

Tommy on the onshore day on one I snapped from a long way away as he tried to connect to the shorey. He was totally in awe as was I of a young guy out there who was absolutely going nuts, with the topper being a huge 540 air thing that ended with him landing it with the tail pointing shorewards, so he just did a shove it so that he remained in his natural stance ... but with the nose now pointing the right way. Unbelievable as he had a lot of power too. No idea who he was.

The other, a shot of two guys doing what I did a lot of.

Waiting. Hoping.

Oh yes... and I had a lot of finless surfs in the slop. Getting there very slowly but the kids begged me at times to ride my normal board as they were sick of people thinking I was a complete wood duck.

Quack.

One of the more interesting years has come and nearly gone, and I hope yours have been all you could have hoped for within the limits of a global financial meltdown and the usual swathe of disasters that seem to grow in frequency as the planet heats up.

Here I have to agree to disagree with my Dear Old Dad as he is of the geological persuasion and opinion that it is likely a part of the natural warming and cooling cycle. Fair enough, but I think the evidence is pointing a big fat hairy finger at US as having a bit to do with it.

What am I doing about it?

Not as much as I should. Still drive to work too often, but then it's a bit hard to whizz about with boxes of Musica Surfica on a bike. Still drive the kids to school more often than I like too, still drive to the hospital every time Tom nearly does himself in, no solar panels on the house, still drive an hour and a half for every surf that blesses me with the opportunity.

But the kids are healthy, or scabby at least, Sue is treating me like I'm not an alien at the moment, and the film is selling steadily. We're looking forward to an 09 that won't be boring...

Will I get my house back? Hmmm, not so sure about that, but if I manage to get another filmic project off the ground and pay the bills, then this time next year I'll be pretty happy.

Have I made a list, a plan, a road map of resolutions...? No, but the next three weeks will give me some thinking time as we head up the glorious south coast of NSW for a well earned break... though I will be taking all my work gear as I'll probably have to arc it up at some stage .. remote working on holidays kinda sucks but I have to keep feeding the beast.

If you're reading this then you're probably at least an occasional stopper at this Safe to Sea, and I'd like to thank you for doing so. When I started this blog it was to try and get in touch with the parents of a young guy that died in Nias not long before I first went back in '04. That never happened, but the world of friends I've made and in some cases now met has meant a lot to me.

I've noticed people dropping by from the most unlikely places. Estonia, Bulgaria, the Ukraine, odd surfless places that you don't expect to see, some come by more than once, I hope they enjoy the visit, after all it is just stream of consciousness from a boofhead in the deep south, but if they get something from it, good.

If not.... well there are a lot of blogs out there.

Highlights of the year for me.?

Getting through it always counts, but finishing the film properly, finding there are people interested enough to buy it, and to top it off, getting to New York and it's Surf Film Festival... then trying to stay awake and then discovering we'd won over there. Such a blast as I had no idea it was competitive until I arrived.

There were some very good films in the mix too, so it was a great honour to be so well rewarded.

Plus I got to go surfing.

The other big highlight though, on reflection... Mr Obama and his election does raise the bar in the hope department. If only more politicians had the brains and generosity of spirit this guy has... though I have to say Mr McCain's concession speech showed a class act heading a crap party.

Since this is a surf related blog, there has to be a surfing highlight too... and for me it's a tie between my trip to the Banyaks and... my trip to the Banyaks. Nothing really comes close to a couple of sessions I had there when it all came together as much as my aging bones will allow, and having a dry reef gurgle next to me while I gazed out of a throaty Treasure Island tube was, though not as frequent as I'd like, fun.

That my family has made it to the end of the year happy and healthy, all I can ask, though my Dad has had a rough one. He is well on the mend as I write this, and hopefully, as today is his birthday, he'll have had a nice red and big juicy steak to celebrate turning 81. The frightening thing for me is my earliest memories of Dad are when he was less than 35 years old, whizzing me around with my hand skimming the water at the beach. Perhaps that is where it all started.

Thanks Dad. And Happy Birthday.

So, to you all out there too, thank you for dropping by, and have a great beginning, middle and end to 2009.

Stay safe. I leave you with where I'll be playing for the next twenty odd days.

Late Addition: If anyone wants to listen to me rabbit on a bit about the film and other stuff, they can hear me on Surf Talk Radio with Scott Bass, from about halfway through the podcast.