A Trip to Noosa 1966

Crescent Head, Noosa and Byron Bay

It was strange, but when I look back now, most guys from South Australia did the surf trips up to the north-east coast to places like Byron Bay, Noosa, Crescent Head and so on in the middle of our winter down south (June-October). And even stranger still was that on every trip I did in those early years, we never missed out on a reasonable wave or two. The northern coast of Oz was the surfing goldmine in those days and us southern blokes weren't going to miss out on any of the diggings. Why do I say strange, well we have the most consistent surf on the whole continent right down here in South Australia but we were lured by these strange surf movies that promised us more magic than we could handle.

Ti-trees photo by Jeff Hancock

One of my trips to Noosa was in the winter of June 66 with two other guys by the names of Phil Nicholas and Craig Thompson, not that those names matter much to me these days, as I haven't seen them for over 35 years. In those days most of us drove up there non-stop and it usually took us about 20 hours to get to where we wanted to be. We weren't interested in scenery or anything like that as our only interest in travelling was surfing, so it was a fairly long and boring trek. What made this trip unbearable for me was the type of vehicle we were travelling in and the seating arrangements. Craig being the owner wanted to do most of the driving and did, while Phil was quite tall and there was no way he could sit in the back. You see this car was a tiny 4 cylinder, Morris Mini Minor and definitely not a long range surf trip vehicle. So for most of the trip I was cramped up in the back seat and at times I could feel my knees screaming for my legs to be straightened out.

Our first surfing stop was Crescent Head, and I guess we arrived there at about 10 o'clock at night, I really don’t know as I had been asleep. I can recall waking up to find I was alone in the car, and after peering put through the windows I thought I could hear the sounds of someone having a friendly squabble a few metres in front of the car. My first and only thought was that it was my two companions, so I reached over the back seat and turned the headlights on. Didn’t I get a surprise when I discovered that it was two lovers engaged some moonlight sexual delight, and so I very quickly turned the lights off. A short while later my two friends returned and I eventually found out that they had spent the last few hours up at the country club. At about the same time that they returned it started drizzling outside and the wind had picked up.

So we sat in the car snoozing on and off, waiting for the sun to come up and wondering what the conditions would be like. With the sun trying to claw its way through an overcast sky we could glimpse through the fogged-up windows that there was a large swell pushing around the point with a strong offshore wind holding the face up. As is usually the case at a strange spot we sat there for awhile checking the place out as none of us had ever ridden here before. Then one of us, I can't remember who, probably said 'c'mon! Let's go out!’ so out we went. The day itself was quite wintry and cold, and to our surprise, when we hit the water we discovered it was really quite warm, and only the wind was icy (no wetsuits in those days). I've surfed plenty of times when there's been a strong offshore wind blowing, and if I only have one lasting memory of my first time out at Crescents it would be just how strong those offshores really were.

I'm not sure now why we didn't stay at Crescents longer, perhaps because Noosa was our ultimate goal. We had quite a few miles to go before we reached it and our time was limited. Our next stop along the way was a place that had the reputation of having the longest ride of any surf break in the whole country, Byron Bay. We reached the lighthouse at Byron Bay in the early hours of the morning and found out that we were now at the furthest point east of the continent, but to our disappointment the break that we heard so much about wasn't working too well. Being desperate for a wave, we decided to check out a beach break a little further north that, from a distance, seemed to be peeling left and right. This break would end up giving me personally one of the best days surfing I've ever had. We managed to find our way down to the beach and went out and stayed out all day.

This shorebreak was about 8 foot with a slight offshore wind blowing up the face and as I said breaking left and right, with the right being fast and hollow while the left not so tubing but ok. In all my years of surfing I've never spent as much time as that day inside the green room or in the water in one session (the whole day), as every ride I got was a complete cover up. Finally the day was coming to a close and it was time to start thinking about food and sleeping arrangements, but just before we did, we decided to walk up the beach a hundred yards or so and check out a pier that some people were now fishing from.

It was a strange looking pier, as it had a huge round pipe that ran the length of it and it was only as we reached the end that we found out what this pipe was used for. As we got nearer we noticed a dark liquid gushing out the end and to our horror we found out that this was blood and bits and pieces being flushed out to sea by a nearby slaughterhouse.

Our next stop was Noosa itself, and even though it was small (2 foot), it was still pretty good. I only wished it were a bit bigger as the rides weren't very long and the only things in Noosa that were longer and bigger were the cockroaches scuttling underneath the beds that night in an old block of flats that we stayed in.

Anyone reading this today would have to be a little bit envious when I say that most of the time we had these places we were surfing almost to ourselves, and most of the towns nearby were just villages and are now holiday resorts. I went back there as recently as last year and the changes I saw that have taken place made me want to leave there in hurry as the whole place looked like an ants' nest. I guess I'm a bit old-fashioned when I say I don't like changes, but when I see these places these days and all the development that has taken place I'm a little bit saddened and shake my head that things aren't the same as they were. I reckon we were lucky to have had it all just perfect when we did.

Another lasting memory I have of that trip is that it rained nearly every day, but it was always warm temperature-wise. We hung around the area for three or four days, hoping that the surf would pick up and during that time we found various places to sleep. The first night we slept in the old boardinghouse-type flats with its friendly pets, the second night we thought about renting a holiday flat, but that was really beyond our budget. It just so happened that we ran into some fellow South Australians, Stewart "Mouse" Lindsay, Andrew "Arab" McArdle and Peter Neville who were also surfing in the area. So we pooled our money together and two of us went in and made a booking while the rest of us waited out of sight around the corner and sneaked into the flat after dark. So there we were, the six of us in this rather huge flat with all the creature comforts, and so pleased with our efforts that we decided to have a party. I don’t know what the other blokes were drinking but I decided on a bottle of cheap Muscat. That was the first and only time I’ve ever drunk that stuff, as during the course of the evening and after it taking its desired effect I was as sick as a dog, lying on the bathroom floor with my head stuck in the toilet bowl.

The third night we slept in a suburban bus stop at Maroochydoore, and when we awoke the next morning we were greeted by some strange looks from the people that were waiting to catch their bus.

There was not much in the way of surfing done over the next few days as any swell that had been around dropped dramatically, so much so that we decided to head back down south following the coastline as we went. We called into various spots to check them out and the only one that looked half-decent was Lennox Head where a small wave was breaking. I don’t know why only one of us went out there that day. Perhaps because it was a strange break for all of us or it wasn’t that appealing, but Arab decided to go out by himself. He didn’t stay out there all that long and when he eventually came in he had cuts all over his feet and legs from clambering over the barnacle encrusted rocks. After this a far greater decision was made and that was to head even further south to the city beaches of Sydney in the chance that the distance and time would produce a wave of better quality and size for all of us to enjoy. Along the way we had a bit of fun in the early morning by sharing our breakfasts with each other, via the windscreens of our vehicles. This very close bonding worked out fine until the local constabulary thought this practice might be of harm to other tourists and we were pulled over and subsequently fined for speeding and dangerous driving.

We eventually reached the Sydney City beach of Manly to find it miserably small and raining, so we did the usual tourist thing and had a look around. I remember that I bought a dark brown leather and corduroy bomber jacket, which I treasured dearly and unfortunately a few years later I left it on the back of a truck while working at a labouring job. I'm just trying to remember what time of day we left New South Wales to come home, but for the life of me I forgot. I would say that we left as soon as we had seen enough of Manly etc and left regardless of the time of day. My biggest disappointment of the whole trip occurred to me when we arrived home. I had taken several rolls of films covering the trip and when I got them back from the developer I found that the ones taken with the telephoto lens all turned out blurry. Before we had left on the trip I had taken my camera gear into the shop where I had bought it, to have it cleaned and serviced. So when they cleaned my telephoto lens they put one of the lenses in backwards, causing all the shots to turn out lousy. Of course they said sorry and reimbursed me with a heap of new films but nothing they could do for me could ever help me with my bitter frustration.

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Photos by Ron Taylor & Jeff Hancock