Most of us can remember how we got into surfing. We remember our first wave, our first board, our first wetsuit and our first surf trip. The stoke of surfing is embedded under our skin as our lives gradually begin to change to welcome our new lifestyle. For some surfing takes over, for others it’s a regular friend on the sidelines of life. But what about where surfing came from? What do we remember? What do we know?
I was born into a family with a strong surfing history, yet my direct parents never surfed. Luckily, my aunty, uncles and cousins took me under their wing and from a young age surfing crept into my blood. Naively, I was swept up into the thruster generation, ignoring my own heritage for most of my youth, following a false hunger for competition and the attraction of surfing’s star class. But it was all half assed really and I guess deep down I never had that competitive streak under my skin, preferring instead to chase waves along the south and south west coasts of South Australia; the beginning of a love affair with wild surf travel that has led me to where I am in life now.