I feel like the old blog has been suffering a bit lately...

It's been pretty head down bum up since getting back from my devil son rattled break, and too, it's been turning into a bit of a surf report.

One can't help but feel that the wave catching antics of a soon to be 56 year old hold less than magnetic appeal. Maybe I'm just in a funk.

My dear old dad is crook, but as he says a cancer diagnosis is just an excuse to eat more oysters, and God love him if that's the attitude I'm gonna have some too.

Over the past weeks I've been designing and doing the production of a cookbook that is donating all its profits to the Kinglake Ranges Country Fire Authority. These are the brave souls who put their lives on the line in the monster fires of this time last year. It might seem a bad joke to do a cookbook about the fires, but this one a bit different, as it is the recipes that served the victims well in the weeks after the fires, wholesome family cooking with a few exotics thrown in, all cheap and easy to prepare, all a testimony, as the book says, to the healing power of community and eating together.

Family food that's good for the soul.

So if you are into it visit the site and order a book. Wouldn't they love it to know people from far away are buying a Kinglake Cookbook?

In between times as I said in an earlier post, I went over to Western Australia a couple of weeks back for the Yallingup Surfilm Festival.

For me the highlights were seeing the other films, catching the odd wave and hanging out with some incredibly inspiring people. Surf Aid's founder Dr Dave Jenkins was there, Tommy Wegener, the skipper of Indies Trader Martin Daly flew his pirate flag and won with Sea of Darkness, while the young but remarkable Seth Hunt and his 'brother', Moacir Zeladon told a story that will make a big impression on all who get to see "Somewhere Near Tapachula"

Huge applause goes to Jesca Maas, who conceived and organised the festival. It was a marvel, as is she.

From a surfing point of view, though I was crap, spending an afternoon chasing waves with Tom Wegener was a hoot, as the insights I got, as a surfer and one time alaia shaper, from a captive Tom while we drove about that magnificent coast were pretty special.

He is a boundlessly enthusiastic guy, but boy does he love a drink.

The shots of Tom on the Yallingup site receiving his award are of a very sauced up Tom, champagne bottle just out of sight, and I'm stuffed if I know how he got up at 5am to get the plane.

So shots today... the book, me at the film makers forum with chair, WA film maker Richard Todd, and Tommy, on fire, plus another shot of some old fart pretending he knows what he's about to do with an alaia..

Sometimes you find little gems when they are least expected.

This past week and a half has seen Victoria's devil winds, the dreaded south easter which, when coupled with bugger all swell, means we are in for lean times. Any swell is short period slop, but if you know where to look and get lucky with the God of Sand Banks, wonderful things can happen.

Last Saturday night, I was tired and couldn't really be stuffed with the idea of dragging myself the hour and half to the most likely prospect of anything, but left a message with Rich to say... if you can be bothered, I'll tag along.

Needless to say he was bothered, so at 6.30 we blearily made our way down an already sunlit highway.

We found the spot below, in the lee of a big headland, with two perfect banks and as pretty a right and left as you're ever likely to see. Shoulder high at best, but steep and punchy enough to let Mr Porky and his pal into more than a few fun runners.

It just goes to show.

January ended with a bit of a bang down here in Vicco.

Tales of good waves filtering in as a decent little swell lit up lots of spots with tubes, hot weather (37C), warm water and an all day offshore.

Saturday I surfed kinda sloppy but fun Bells around 4-6ft, can't say I killed it but then I rarely can. On the other hand at the end of my session MC paddled out and I managed to catch the beginning of a pretty hell snap as I sauntered around betowelled and becamera'd in the carpark. (Not a pretty sight).

Yesterday at good old 13th, barrel fest is probably the best description. If you were young and quick, you got a lot, if you are nearly 56, you got a couple and buggered one up. (I suck at pigdogging)

Aaaah but you only need one.

A long session, some hell drops, a few beltings and one very good view from the inside as the oncoming section prepared to swallow me whole.

Twenty four hours later there's still water dribbling from my nose.

Pics:
13th, wailing, and MC on Saturday, test driving a little Metro.

Well...

Back from the Yallingup Film Festival and what an event.

So well organised, incredible venue and sponsors and everything laid on. The film makers were driven to the event each day in limo's, through sun filled vineyards and past perfect beaches.

Unfortunately Musica didn't win, though it was incredibly well received and honoured by the acknowledgement that it was the film that inspired the Festival to be held in the first place. The winner was the remarkable and controversial Sea of Darkness, winner of the 209 New York Festival also. I met some wonderful people, as expected, made some friendships and renewed others.

Over the next few days I'll give a proper report, but I thought a taste was worthwhile.

The pics are from day one and the the last surf of the three days. (Tom Wegener and I at a lonely beachy, gut sliding alaias....I was laaaaghable, Tom got tubed)

The report through all the time we were there was for 1-3ft rubbish, and get a wave if you're lucky.

I first surfed at a spot called Three Bears, kinda busy but super friendly, three great peaks to choose from, and caught a ton of waves. Then driving back I looked down and spotted these two guys surfing a perfect peak... all by themselves.

Back where we were staying, later in the afternoon I snapped the shorey of the whitest, clearest watered beach I've ever seen.

Yep, these shots are WA at it's worst.

World, eat your heart out.

A quick post as I wing my way tomorrow to what might be the last Film Festival for a bit.

The Yallingup Surfilm Festival has invited me over for their inaugural event, and it looks like it will be something special. A great line up of films, including the winner of this years New York Surf Film Festival so I wish both of us luck in a unique line up. I'm looking forward to meeting some wonderful new people... If it's anything like New York (hard act to follow) watch out.

The big plus is the place. Yallingup is a stone's throw, in fact smack in the middle of, one of the world's great wave zones.

Do you think I should bother taking a board?

Fingers crossed all round I suppose and next week be prepared for a report.

Well back after one of the more 'interesting' holidays I've had.

The surf was largely crap, bar a couple of days of good five foot lefts.

Otherwise relentless drivel, or rather, small waves and crowds. Within that, it was fun, and we used what we had to our best advantage. The little alaia got a thrashing, and is a genuine blast. Joey fell in love with it and rode it relentlessly, as did I when he let me at it.

Tom get us jumping the whole time, as he jumped out of windows to go to parties at 2 am time after time, us worrying ourselves sick while he made the most of a 'beach holiday'.... with all that goes with it.

Fourteen going on twenty.

Help.

Then, to top it off, on the way back and driving through a massive storm in the Snowy Mountains yesterday, we lost (and I mean lost... gone forever... blown to god knows where) three boards off the roof... after me checking the ties just an hour before. Amongst them one of Maurice Cole's favourites that he'd loaned me to try out. Gutted.

Big spirit that he is he took it well this morning but I've fallen into a funk.

How to make it up to him.

Pics, Alaia stuff with Joey... me imitating a marker buoy, and a bird imitating a leaf.

More tales from the trip if I can summon the energy soon.

Happy New Year.

Two posts in one day? What's all this about?

Well... Ages ago I'd begun some webisodes for Maurice Cole. A lack of access to the edit suite I use due to a feature being cut in there meant it was taking way longer than it should have, so in the end I bought Final Cut Pro, mad fool that I am, and did the final little bit of cutting myself as my good mate and editor Tony was out of town. Reacquainting myself with it in ways other than sitting next to the editor was bracing, but I got it out in the end.

Tales from the Chook Shed will become a series, as we reveal the innermost workings of the mind of master shaper Maurice Cole. MC is a man you can't shut up, nor would you want to as when on a roll he is a very entertaining, and informative guy. His drum is his own, the beat unique.

This episode features an epic wave from Ross Clark Jones, at Voldemort. I'm calling it Voldemort because it's real name is off limits, as is the coast it's on.

In the coming episodes we'll have a history of tow boards, Nick Carroll's thoughts on what Maurice is doing, and some epic waves from Mordor.

For the kiddies I've bleeped most of the expletives, though for me it's all part of the fun.