Red dog, red dust and red sails.
Ben — “Halfprice I’m heading north… want to come?” (Implying unplanned 13.5 hour drive to a insanely amazing remote windsurfing spot)
Me — “When are we leaving?”
Ben — “Well… now”.
Me — “Yep see you in an hour”.
I got the call from Ben Severne about midday as I sat in the crowded family car going to see Red Dog on father’s day. “Halfprice I’m heading north… want to come?” I managed to mumble a stoked “yes” as my mind had already started frothing at the prospect (Half-price is my nickname, with Full-Price the nickname of my father). Heading north implies windsurfing at a place god must have built just for us. Its a cross-off wave that breaks for up to 500m — one of those waves you end up blissfully out of breath from so many turns. Its an incredible place that is still a well kept secret for most. “When are we leaving?” I asked, followed by an expected “Well… now.”
Considering its a 13.5 hour drive from Perth the trip usually implies some forward planning, but between chasing the wind, Ben’s hectic business schedule and my uni commitments neither of us are usually able to plan too far beyond a week. About a million things went through my head ranging from the surf to the state of my swag, to having the right windsurf gear, to my bosses thoughts and uni commitments, and then back to the surf…. always back to the surf.
“Yep see you in an hour.”
The next few hours are a blur between stuffing bags, food, supplies, water, equipment, surfboards… you name it. Before I had time to fully comprehend dad’s spirited spirited driving to the loft, hasty packing of a crazy amount of the latest prototype equipment, we were on our way. Ben’s transporter was a treat compared to my last trip north which had been hugely different, in a cramped and non-airconned van limited to 80km/h. This by comparison was luxury.
The median strip flew beneath the car as the sun was consumed by the ocean somewhere to the north of the beautiful West Australian town of Jurien Bay. Ben’s weird 80s thrash metal music keeping us company.
About 800km disappeared underneath us and we finally pulled over from exhaustion around 3am somehere just south of that never-ending red flashing light near Overlander roadhouse - basically in the middle of nowhere. I was pretty stoked that the busy anthill I woke up next to had kept its distance.
The pace of Ben’s beloved Australian punk/fusion rock music matching my raising pulse as we made it through the pearly gates and finally to the break. Swell was up, wind hadn’t swung yet. Sweeet — surfing time! We caught up with Scotty in his flash new late 70’s pop-top caravan castle. The king in his castle, Scotty spilled the beans on his latest adventures. Tenerife, Reunion, Bali — Insane. Then out of nowhere Scotty paused, the rage building in his eyes, he’d spotted a new train of ants heading for his sugar tin — are rare desert food craved for by these relentlessly hungry creatures. Scotty bolted upright and went to town on the poor ants, sending them flying or smeared across the place. Ben and I exchanged glances with pursed lips, too afraid to laugh out loud at the hilarious sight in case we spooked the enraged previous World Windsurfing Champ Scotty McKercher turned ant squashing machine. Given the quality of the waves on offer, these desert problems are a small price to pay in the scheme of things, but can send you a little loopy over time.
We headed out for a morning surf in the morning light, illuminating the soft pink headland. The offshore was grooming the waves and some nice 3ft sets were rolling through. You forget how individual windsurfing can be as you blast across the water to yourself, wind in the ears. Though it sometimes has its benefits as Ben and I were stuck on our surfboards at the take off spot listening to this loose east-coaster come Kalbarri local. He was spinning some wild yarns between sets about a large manner of unrelated topics leaving us pondering the connection between all of these stories. You meet some interesting people up here for sure.
The wind was feathering till late arvo and finally came in, albeit pretty light with the swell slightly picking up to offer some glassy “3 footers”, or ‘logo high’ in windsurfing lingo. I kept making sure to kook the first wave of the longest set and cop the rest on the head but Ben had a handle on everything. Scotty laid a textbook Wave3 right in front of me. The visual was sick! We got some nice rides but the wind packed up early and it was back to Scotty’s ant-proof lair for some beers and chilli pasta, big thanks to Scott for the hospitality. There was also a heap of Esperance local boys and girls up and we made the most of it catching up with everyone.
The next morning I had the dreaded task of calling into work ‘sick’ which went well, but was a bit of a nightmare trying to catch the very flaky mobile phone reception. It is so remote that often you can only get reception when the wind is blowing offshore, something the locals here have begun to use as a forecasting tool for the wind each day.
Ben, Scotty and I went out for a morning paddle and the swell was up slightly, with the fresh easterly keeping the waves clean. Scotty was charging at the bombie which looked like fun. Then we waited… and waited… and waited. And finally (hard)Corey made the call and rigged up to charge Midgies with Ben. Not packing the right gear and unable to sail I was on camera duties. Scotty stayed on the SUP which was probably a smart call. Ben managed to snag a few good waves on his light-wind board after a big effort sailing a few kilometers sail upwind. After a few hours with the low tide beginning to expose dry reef in between bottom turns, it was getting pretty sketchy and the boys decided to call it a day.
Just as we finished packing up, the wind had started to fill in and Corey was out making the most of it, getting a nice long peeling wave with no one else out. Barstard! I hadn’t been wet since midday and was frothing. But as the sun was starting to get low and groom that awesome fresh arvo ‘carpark light’ we made our escape, back to the buzz of the corrugations and the music’s beat of the sub.
After hundreds of incredible waves and a total of over two thousand kilometers travelled all in only 2.5 days, we made it back to Perth around 6am after an all-night drive. Covered in salt, red dirt and both completely stoked. With a smile on my face I couldn’t help but feel like Red Dog himself.
A huge thank you to my sponsors Severne Sails, Starboard Windsurfing and Esperance Sail & Surf.
