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.

Well I'm glad that's over.

A fun Christmas but the palaver gets a bit full on at times and the kids are getting past the "what presents have we got?" stage so it's more a matter of getting through it and touching base with a scattered family and looking forward to a much anticipated but perhaps economically inadvisable break.

Off to our the South Coast of NSW again, pray for waves and all that.

I can't wait.

The shots: Joey just having dragged himself out of bed, in his pj undies and showing us his copy of Benjamin Button, while Tom gathers himself for some paper tearing. An accident of perspective has Joey a little more large, relatively, than he actually is, though this time next year I suspect some catching up will have taken place on Tom's behalf.

And a group shot of my three, at the beginning of what was a fun Christmas day.

To all of you out there, I hope yours was too, and more, please have have a safe beginning to, and a prosperous and more importantly...happy, healthy 2010.

Usually at this time of year it's as much the Silly Season in the surf as out, mostly in the negative as the waves are flukey, winds the same, and crowds escalate with the onset of the holidays. A time when the poor souls who get less chance than even me to sample aquatic delights get their moment in the sun.

The past few days then have been decidedly blessed, with a series of swells and for some odd reason, not too many in the water.

Yesterday, try as I might, I had no takers to accompany me down. Joey working at the theme park and being stalked by cougars, Tom skating or going for another prison interview, Richie family bound for Christmas and me losing heart under the stream of no's and hitting the road by myself.

But I did stop for the obligatory coffee and croissant.

We Victorian surfers are tray sofistakated.

Anyway, blow me down if the 2-3 ft light onshore forecast turned into 4-5feet with the odd bigger set, glassy to light onshore and barely anyone out. What started out at maybe 15 or so out at Bells ended up at perhaps 5, it was pretty damn consistent, the crowd genial and the water balmy.

I can't say I ripped (in fact decidedly not) but I did emerge from the water smiling before I tripped over my leg rope and face planted in front of a bunch of tourists as I struggled out of the shore break.

My internal dialogue went something like...

"Ah yes, here's the brave surfer negotiating the mighty Bells shorebr.. oooops...splat.."

My cool days are long gone.

The pics: near empty Bells from Friday, Bells from yesterday with a longboard swish, and Winki through the railings, the shot taken not even bothering to wait for a set.

This year has passed like stars behind the Starship Enterprise at warp 9.

Or is that our lives?

Today gifted me with one of my more fun time passing markers in the form of a visit by my violin master mate, Richard. In town for a short concert series, and barely able to rise after a 3.30 bedtime caused by a way over time afterparty (and possibly too many glasses of red) he was still up for a near to 6.30 pick up and run to Bell's where we were surprised to find a rising swell with some sets well over twice the three feet forecast.

My finless was taken for a literal spin by Rich, why I opted for the 6'2" thruster before going in and swapping for the small alaia and a salad toss couple of waves.

Then the legs started to cramp.

It's a long way out the back at Bells when all you have is the legs to kick about.

Bodyboarders. Respect.

One screamer across the bay where I did hold a line gave some thrills before I lost my little wooden edge and was buffeted right up the beach.

The net result was a varied session amongst a friendly though diminishing crowd. Pics of Rich as he came in after I left the water a little earlier that normal due to the odd crampy leg or three.