As the zenith of the silly season draws to a close, many are poking their heads up from beneath crumpled sheets, assessing the ruin, and surveying with bated breath the waves they’ve missed. As the end of 2015 loomed, a swell alert for north coast NSW and southern Qld looked promising. There were two options: some chose to hunt swells, others chose to hunt hangovers. If you were already one day deep into a bender, at Falls Festival per se, the latter seemed the only choice. Word trickled into the festival of uncrowded, hundred metre long tubes at a bank not far from your doorstep. But the realisation that the surf was on only threw you deeper into the treacherous cycle. “You been surfing during this swell?” Fellow festival-goers asked as they sank their first beer at 11am on the 2nd of January. “Nah, just partying. You?” “Yeah sick! Me too!” And you felt better for it – that others were making the same mistakes you were. It was like safety in numbers; only this crowd hid from the wrath of their own consciences, rather than that of a saw-toothed predator.
What were you doing while the points were firing? Perhaps tripping over tree roots and hidden boulders at a beach party? Or bailing up famous people in the Falls VIP bar – which you shouldn’t have been allowed into in the first place? Swooning at the likes of Steph Gilmore – who was sensibly enjoying the tunes and managing to get a surf in each morning – and trying to make her go for a surf with you? (These are all hypothetical situations of course!) Maybe you were watching Paul Kelly at sunset, bleary eyed with a Dagwood Dog in each hand, contemplating the dumb things. All very worthy reasons to be missing out on epic waves.
In the aftermath you found that still the unrelenting swell pushed in, and you were given a second chance of sorts. Wobbling down the faces of reeling beauties, you had to remember how to surf all over again. The hangover stretched out for days and you wondered whether this was symbolic of your year to come.
Next time you’ll choose to hunt waves over hangovers, you tell yourself. But somehow those words seem too familiar and void of meaning.
