Like all the best stories, a chance meeting of a friend of a friend, who knows a guy. This is exactly how the 'Riding Giants' project started. For years I have been working up to riding giant waves on a waveski. In this time, big wave surfing had evolved massively with tow surfing. My brother who now lives in New Zealand had been tow surfing some big wave spots and doing jetski support. A chance meeting with big wave legend Ross Clark Jones, as luck would have it, he was impressed with my aim. In his words "The guy must be crazy to do it on one of those!". I was given an email and we got talking.
The first hurdle was the equipment. I needed someone with the vision to not only build, but design a waveski, capable of riding a wave 40 foot plus, moving at 40 mph. A huge task. After much chat, one guys name came up time and time again, James Hawker. When tow-in surfing started, everyone would just use the same old big wave guns they had always used as their tow boards. Quickly, surfers realized there was a better way to do this. Tow boards are much smaller than regular paddle-in guns. They are usually in the seven-foot range, have foot straps, and weigh upwards of 15 pounds in some cases, pretty much a waveski. A lot of time and research into rail shape, concaves and lift lift, eventually, a unique ski with 'crowned' rails, single concave was designed. A sleek, purposeful ski sat in the factory. All white - no glam, just function. My it was sexy.
The first hurdle was the equipment. I needed someone with the vision to not only build, but design a waveski, capable of riding a wave 40 foot plus, moving at 40 mph. A huge task. After much chat, one guys name came up time and time again, James Hawker. When tow-in surfing started, everyone would just use the same old big wave guns they had always used as their tow boards. Quickly, surfers realized there was a better way to do this. Tow boards are much smaller than regular paddle-in guns. They are usually in the seven-foot range, have foot straps, and weigh upwards of 15 pounds in some cases, pretty much a waveski. A lot of time and research into rail shape, concaves and lift lift, eventually, a unique ski with 'crowned' rails, single concave was designed. A sleek, purposeful ski sat in the factory. All white - no glam, just function. My it was sexy.
Next was the destination. Unlike many, I don't want the big show of big wave destinations. Most spots, from Teahupoo to Pipline in Hawaii are full of night clubs and chaos. In the sea its worse, on a big day there are team after team, I counted 25 jetski's with 60 people in the water at some waves. The noise alone is bad, from all the jetski's and support boats. Getting your place in the peak amongst the pro's on a waveski? Forget that. I wanted solitude. The real deal. What I was attempting to do, could easily kill me. If it goes wrong on a 40 foot wave, at best I'd have a lot broken. I needed a spot where there were waves and no distractions. I needed to download the data from the day's surfing to the deepest parts of my brain, mind surfing the waves, rehearsing the drop, perfecting the timing.Using google earth, I found what I thought the ideal spot. With the same swell direction and proximity as Fiji, a group of islands overlooked by the masses. Populated by hippies, and one reef that had all the potential to be one of the best kept secrets. Ross Clark Jones emailed me info of a huge swell due in the Pacific. with a 40 foot swell, potential 80 foot waves? The Pacific was looking to be good. As if a dream, with the help of an Auzzie guy called Doolie, 32 hours later, I am sat in a hut, no TV, no electricity, no telephone, no restaurant, just an amazing view looking out to a reef. With epic surf... and no name for it.
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| You can see the outer reef above the island |
Every day the swell built. You quickly climatise too the speed. Taking off later and later, and not being spooked as you see the reef a couple of feet below the surface. The time table was; Get up - surf, breakfast, sleep, surf, lunch, surf, sleep, dinner, surf, sleep. On the two days it was flat, I just sat in my hut, in the shade, hypnotized by the view. On day 8, still no giant swell. It felt ominous out there though, the wind was up, the surf choppy and could sense that it was on its way. Later that morning Doolie arrived, the next two days it's going to be huge, Ross Clarke Jones and only a handful of others were due here later. On the main island, Doolie had plotted the swell at 25 to 30 foot, at 18 seconds. It as going to me huge.
The following day the waves started to hit, increasing every hour, and for the first time I could see the outer reef start to work, waves so big they looked in slow motion. We went through safety procedures. The boys practiced towing and using the jetski to collect a surfer on the inside. So much to do I didn't have time to mentally prepare for the size it was going to be. The storm kicked in. wind making the palms fly off ant hit the hut with the occasional thud! Every time I jumped and my heart stopped, on screen a 30 foot + swell at 25!!. Inside, all I had bouncing around my head was "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God - please don't be toooo huge, wish I never said I was a big wave surfer"
All the guy's where 'wooping' and saying how they hoped it was huge - biggest ever. I, was saying the same, but, wen I looked out to the avalanches of white, visible through the dark, I kept thinking, they had to be as frightened as I am, surely?
4am we had the call. Some serious big wave stand-ups, my brother who's towed before, and one lone waveski surfer (me). The wind had dropped, the Jetski's were in the water, light offshore winds. They walked in, we were awake, its still dark, and they were silent.
"What's it like"
Doolie, an Auzzie said "I've never seen anything like it, it's...... it's...... gigantic"
My heart sank!
One boat ant two jetski's left the lagoon, the reef, the outer reef and headed for deep water. Once we hit the offshore reef, it was the most terrifying thing I have ever seen, waves that could only be described as monsters. The power had lifted all the sand and debris so it looked like coffee. Seeing them tow. For a good hour I watched as they performed. It became quickly apparent, you couldn't tow on a waveski. The jetski heads parallel to the wave, turns 180 and catapults the surfer onto the wave, who then turns, to make the bowl of the wave. We cant turn like that - we use a paddle! Watching em, I thought 'I can make it, I could make the drop if I timed it right. When I paddled over to The guy on the jetski, on a waveski, he said "NO WAY" But, this was probably my one and only chance to do this - I said "I'm going" So off we went. From watching, tow surfing is so much safer than paddling in, you literally have the speed to stay out of harms way if you wanted. What I didn't figure though, your legs are fantastic shock absorbers, when hitting chop at 30mph - your ass and spine - isn't! I had to be towed square on to the wave, let go, grab the paddle and hope I'd timed it right to outrun the face. We chose a smaller wave at about 30 foot. Flying toward the horizon on the back of a jetski, waveski behind skipping. I started hyperventilating, I couldn't breathe, it felt like my floatation device was too tight. The fear hit my like a hammer to the head. I wasn't prepared at all. Surfing the reef was nothing like this!
"You ready?"
I nod "Yeah" (nooooo)
Just like that, off we went. I'm about to tow surf a massive wave in the pacific. It is amazing how they time it, slotting you in perfectly, slowly, as if at the theme park ride the ocean seems to build and rise, and soon you are dropping down a mountain. However, because I was artificially fast, I was out on the shoulder rather than in the bowl, and the ski bounced, chopped and crashed over all the chops. I was going too fast to use my paddle, every time it hit the surface it violently bounced off so I couldn't set a rail in. I hit a chop, launched in the air, smashed down and did it again right after. I looked too my left, to see where the white water was, and thank God it was still a good way off as I was going straight, had trouble turning, and at the bottom of a massive wave. Now this will sound bullshit. But because of the speed, you kinda feel safe, like you could outrun it, so I concentrated on not wiping out as I bounced and chopped, skipped and crashed - eyes rattling in my head and fillings falling out of my teeth. Eventually I slowed and could use my rails more, turning gradually. And just like that it was over.
I had unsuccessfully towed. Yeah I caught a giant wave, but I couldn't turn, couldn't get in the pocket - I was forced to the shoulder and there I stayed, in no danger at all. I was mortified. Gutted. This wasn't the big wave experience I was after at all. Watching the guys tow, it became apparent, paddling in is so much harder, more dangerous - it was the drop that was missing. I wouldn't mind riding the shoulder if I made a monster drop. For the rest of the session I watched as they rode giants. I didn't.
All the guy's where 'wooping' and saying how they hoped it was huge - biggest ever. I, was saying the same, but, wen I looked out to the avalanches of white, visible through the dark, I kept thinking, they had to be as frightened as I am, surely?
4am we had the call. Some serious big wave stand-ups, my brother who's towed before, and one lone waveski surfer (me). The wind had dropped, the Jetski's were in the water, light offshore winds. They walked in, we were awake, its still dark, and they were silent.
"What's it like"
Doolie, an Auzzie said "I've never seen anything like it, it's...... it's...... gigantic"
My heart sank!
One boat ant two jetski's left the lagoon, the reef, the outer reef and headed for deep water. Once we hit the offshore reef, it was the most terrifying thing I have ever seen, waves that could only be described as monsters. The power had lifted all the sand and debris so it looked like coffee. Seeing them tow. For a good hour I watched as they performed. It became quickly apparent, you couldn't tow on a waveski. The jetski heads parallel to the wave, turns 180 and catapults the surfer onto the wave, who then turns, to make the bowl of the wave. We cant turn like that - we use a paddle! Watching em, I thought 'I can make it, I could make the drop if I timed it right. When I paddled over to The guy on the jetski, on a waveski, he said "NO WAY" But, this was probably my one and only chance to do this - I said "I'm going" So off we went. From watching, tow surfing is so much safer than paddling in, you literally have the speed to stay out of harms way if you wanted. What I didn't figure though, your legs are fantastic shock absorbers, when hitting chop at 30mph - your ass and spine - isn't! I had to be towed square on to the wave, let go, grab the paddle and hope I'd timed it right to outrun the face. We chose a smaller wave at about 30 foot. Flying toward the horizon on the back of a jetski, waveski behind skipping. I started hyperventilating, I couldn't breathe, it felt like my floatation device was too tight. The fear hit my like a hammer to the head. I wasn't prepared at all. Surfing the reef was nothing like this!
"You ready?"
I nod "Yeah" (nooooo)
Just like that, off we went. I'm about to tow surf a massive wave in the pacific. It is amazing how they time it, slotting you in perfectly, slowly, as if at the theme park ride the ocean seems to build and rise, and soon you are dropping down a mountain. However, because I was artificially fast, I was out on the shoulder rather than in the bowl, and the ski bounced, chopped and crashed over all the chops. I was going too fast to use my paddle, every time it hit the surface it violently bounced off so I couldn't set a rail in. I hit a chop, launched in the air, smashed down and did it again right after. I looked too my left, to see where the white water was, and thank God it was still a good way off as I was going straight, had trouble turning, and at the bottom of a massive wave. Now this will sound bullshit. But because of the speed, you kinda feel safe, like you could outrun it, so I concentrated on not wiping out as I bounced and chopped, skipped and crashed - eyes rattling in my head and fillings falling out of my teeth. Eventually I slowed and could use my rails more, turning gradually. And just like that it was over.
I had unsuccessfully towed. Yeah I caught a giant wave, but I couldn't turn, couldn't get in the pocket - I was forced to the shoulder and there I stayed, in no danger at all. I was mortified. Gutted. This wasn't the big wave experience I was after at all. Watching the guys tow, it became apparent, paddling in is so much harder, more dangerous - it was the drop that was missing. I wouldn't mind riding the shoulder if I made a monster drop. For the rest of the session I watched as they rode giants. I didn't.
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| Doolie on a BIG one |
Thursday, the following day, the swell had dropped. From massive-gigantic to just, well, gigantic. The outer reef, was huge. The kind of huge that even off in the distance it looks massive. I was still disappointed from the day before, with something to prove, and a second chance. We made our way out too the outer reef. Though smaller than the day before, the wave was a lot heavier, suckier and with a very steep, churning bowl. The guys used the jetski's to flick onto the wave, dropping into the bowl and carving off the top on 40 foot faces. The good thing about this outer reef over the offshore location was you could get closer to the action. What became clear here was the additional use the Jetski's had. After each ride, the jetski would fly in, surfer with arm raised, would be snatched onto the the ramp on the back of the jetski, and power them the hell out of there before an avalanche of water smashes them. This raised another problem, They aren't strapped to their board, with a paddle. So, can't use the jetski this way either then!
I was confident, but fear again hit me as soon as I got on my waveski. I could taste sick in my mouth, my reactions were twitchy and tweaked from overdosing on adrenalin. I had to calm down, but 30 to 40 foot waves are exploding off a reef a few meters away. I paddled over, the plan was to get a smaller one straight off, to get one in the bag and crack the nerves. A set pushed through, big but not enormous, I paddled on the shoulder, hoping to catch the edge and get a test wave. The speed was like nothing I've ever experienced. I paddled and the wave just blasted past me, exploding off the reef. I could look right down into it as it tore past. It didn't help the confidence at all! I paddled for the one behind it, a little more toward the peak - this one blew right through too. I couldn't paddle fast enough - hence the need for jetski's. Not long after, a set came and doubled up, breaking early. This was a gift as I could paddle, catch the white water and ride the reform. And this was my first wave, yet it was just after the critical part of the reef and when the wave was backing off as it hit deep water.
On the paddle back out, I finally understand the fact, there is only one way I'd be able to do this. I can't use the jetski, I can't paddle fast enough to catch it on she shoulder and avoid the dark churning bowl. The only way to do it was to get right in the take off zone, paddle as fast as I can, right under the breaking lip of a 35 to 40 foot wave, take the late vertical drop into the bottom of a giant pit, and make it. Not making it was not an option. The reality of not making it was put furthest from my mind. The wait for a set was insane. I timed one lull at just short of 9 minutes! Now, this might not seem an issue, but I'm sat in the slot. No waves, just waiting. Your mind starts to play tricks with you - have you drifted over the reef too far so that you are too deep and will get obliterated by the waves when they come? Have you drifted out too far and noway near the take off spot? Twice I paddled out of the way, only to see a huge set detonate right where I'd been only moments before. I feel a little bit sick again.
Finally, the horizon shifts, and the texture changes. A set is on its way and it's BIG! luckily it followed a smaller set so I could as near as damn it guess where I needed to be to take off. I sprinted off to the target spot. The set builds and builds as it gets closer. It seems as though it will never stop growing, almost there, it seems like a giant 40 foot wall. for a split second it seemed I was too far out and it wouldn't break, but as it hit the reef it jumped up, becoming vertical. I paddled like mad as I drifted up the face. It felt like I was getting sucked up into space, and then, as if dropping off the side of a cliff - I accelerated forward. As I dropped, The ski left the water, airborne for a second. I knew that I had to bury my inside rail, this was critical. The wave was throwing out over me, I couldn't risk it hitting the back of my ski, I had to get to the bowl. My heart had stopped, I hadn't breathed, I felt like I was going 100mph. The rail sliced into the wave, I can hear the wave exploding just behind my left ear as I bottom turn off the bowl. The speed as such, I launched back up the wall and able to do a small turn to make it back down the line. Only then did I realize the size of this beast. I am 20 foot up, now safely screaming down the line to flat calm water, and there is still about 15 foot of wave above me, and a churning monster chasing me.
I was confident, but fear again hit me as soon as I got on my waveski. I could taste sick in my mouth, my reactions were twitchy and tweaked from overdosing on adrenalin. I had to calm down, but 30 to 40 foot waves are exploding off a reef a few meters away. I paddled over, the plan was to get a smaller one straight off, to get one in the bag and crack the nerves. A set pushed through, big but not enormous, I paddled on the shoulder, hoping to catch the edge and get a test wave. The speed was like nothing I've ever experienced. I paddled and the wave just blasted past me, exploding off the reef. I could look right down into it as it tore past. It didn't help the confidence at all! I paddled for the one behind it, a little more toward the peak - this one blew right through too. I couldn't paddle fast enough - hence the need for jetski's. Not long after, a set came and doubled up, breaking early. This was a gift as I could paddle, catch the white water and ride the reform. And this was my first wave, yet it was just after the critical part of the reef and when the wave was backing off as it hit deep water.
On the paddle back out, I finally understand the fact, there is only one way I'd be able to do this. I can't use the jetski, I can't paddle fast enough to catch it on she shoulder and avoid the dark churning bowl. The only way to do it was to get right in the take off zone, paddle as fast as I can, right under the breaking lip of a 35 to 40 foot wave, take the late vertical drop into the bottom of a giant pit, and make it. Not making it was not an option. The reality of not making it was put furthest from my mind. The wait for a set was insane. I timed one lull at just short of 9 minutes! Now, this might not seem an issue, but I'm sat in the slot. No waves, just waiting. Your mind starts to play tricks with you - have you drifted over the reef too far so that you are too deep and will get obliterated by the waves when they come? Have you drifted out too far and noway near the take off spot? Twice I paddled out of the way, only to see a huge set detonate right where I'd been only moments before. I feel a little bit sick again.
Finally, the horizon shifts, and the texture changes. A set is on its way and it's BIG! luckily it followed a smaller set so I could as near as damn it guess where I needed to be to take off. I sprinted off to the target spot. The set builds and builds as it gets closer. It seems as though it will never stop growing, almost there, it seems like a giant 40 foot wall. for a split second it seemed I was too far out and it wouldn't break, but as it hit the reef it jumped up, becoming vertical. I paddled like mad as I drifted up the face. It felt like I was getting sucked up into space, and then, as if dropping off the side of a cliff - I accelerated forward. As I dropped, The ski left the water, airborne for a second. I knew that I had to bury my inside rail, this was critical. The wave was throwing out over me, I couldn't risk it hitting the back of my ski, I had to get to the bowl. My heart had stopped, I hadn't breathed, I felt like I was going 100mph. The rail sliced into the wave, I can hear the wave exploding just behind my left ear as I bottom turn off the bowl. The speed as such, I launched back up the wall and able to do a small turn to make it back down the line. Only then did I realize the size of this beast. I am 20 foot up, now safely screaming down the line to flat calm water, and there is still about 15 foot of wave above me, and a churning monster chasing me.
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| Click to enlarge |
I skipped into flat water as I kicked of the back, looking over my shoulder as the wave took it's fury out on the reef.
The boat, so I hear was quiet as I paddled for the wave, as I disappeared into the belly of the beast - everyone held their breath. Jetski on standby with Doolie on it, holding a knife to cut me free if needed. As I appeared, the boat erupted, I could hear screams and the boys jumping up and down. When it gets critical. When you mutually take risks and define not only yourself but your sport, it doesn't matter what you ride. I know it sounds corny - we went out surfers of differing craft and came away brothers.
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