Innehållsförteckning för Issue # 29 Winter 2019 från White Horses

Friday 6 December 2002. I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I was standing with three friends at the top of a cliff near Mundaka, one of the world’s most iconic surf spots. We watched in horror as a gigantic black stain advanced towards the coast. Minutes later, the waves started dumping millions of blobs of crude oil onto the shoreline. In the space of a few hours, the beautiful butter-yellow sand had turned into a stinking carpet of black, sticky tar. There would be no surfing for the rest of the winter, and no fishing for nine months anywhere in the Bay of Biscay. Hundreds of thousands of birds and other creatures would die, and the ecosystem would be forever altered. The oil had come from a…

Brighton Jetty – situated some 15 kays southwest of Adelaide – was first built in 1886 in a T-shape. Storms over the years, however, threatened its alphabetical stability. Sporadic batterings gradually fashioned it into an “L” until May 1994, when the Gulf St Vincent was throttled by what Bodhi would’ve described as the 50-year storm. I still remember Mum driving my sisters and me home from school that afternoon (I was seven and three-quarters) and her telling us how it had been obliterated. She drove slowly along the esplanade and, for the first time, I saw waves not only smashing into the jetty but completely washing over the top of it. Decaying timber splayed out at right angles. Supporting beams stood with nothing atop them, confused about what to do…

When I was young, I would pore over National Geographic magazines and dream of adventures like this – train hopping through the Sahara Desert on one of the world’s longest trains. I would dream of the ocean and the sand, of the loud clattering noises of the train and the scorching sun, all mingling with the smells of an unknown country. That visceral experience was exactly what we got as we slithered night and day through the vast uninhabited desert, sleeping on top of Mauritania’s infamous iron ore train. Our 700-kilometre journey took us through the heart of the Sahara to the coast, where we were hoping to find a place of forgotten shipwrecks and unknown surf. Not many people have heard of Mauritania, a country twice the size of…

The eerie sound wakes me from a deep sleep inside my tent. I can hear it distinctly above the symphony of crashing waves and the ceaseless singing of cicadas a few metres away. What was that? I think, sitting bolt upright. I hear it again. Scratch, scratch, swoosh. Climbing out my tent into the moonless night, I switch on my head torch and cautiously search out the noise along the edge of the jungle. Something huge and dark is digging amongst the stones down on the beach, flinging sand onto the dry leaves that litter the shoreline. My heart beats faster as I take a few steps closer. Then I see it. A giant Atlantic Green turtle, almost as big as a double bed, is working meticulously to dislodge sticks,…

It was 1974 when I got a job on a pole-fishing boat out of Streaky Bay, working through summer to spend the off-season surfing Indonesia or remote breaks around the Great Australian Bight. Poling tuna was physical, back-breaking work. After netting live bait under lights in the bay, the boat would steam out into the unpredictable open waters of the Southern Ocean. The crew not on watch faced long hours stuck in the small fore cabin, trying to block out the constant groan of the engines to get a fitful sleep. This was a workboat, befouled by the stench of diesel fuel, rank bilge water and rotten fish as it lurched across vast stretches of ocean in the hunt for schools of tuna. It was part of the deal, but…

I’ve been drawing and making things since I first picked up a pencil and hammer when I was a kid. After returning from backpacking around the world in the 1970s, I chanced upon stained glass as a creative pastime. I soon discovered that the medium was going through a contemporary revival in Europe and America, and I was inspired by the potential – particularly with the copper-foiled method, which allows for much more detail. It wasn’t long before family and friends were asking me to do windows and lamps. Before I knew it, I became self-employed, rapidly evolving my own style and techniques. Around the same time, in 1981, my wife Esther and I moved the to the west coast of Tasmania and began building our home. We still live…

The text message came just before 7 a.m: “Mandatory evacuation for the entire city of Malibu.” I grabbed my car keys, wallet, phone, laptop, writing stuff and a change of clothes. It was Friday, 9 November. I was not worried. Malibu gets a fire nearly every year. Never do they creep down the Santa Monica Mountains, leap the Pacific Coast Highway, and take out homes where I live, in Point Dume. But this one did. And it took out my home with an almost personal vengeance. Watching the news with a friend in his Venice Beach studio the following evening, he pointed at the screen. “That looks like your house.” The camera zoomed in. “That’s definitely your house.” The shot – a firefighter blasting water at my inflamed bedroom –…

The nasal groan of the Cessna’s twin propellers buzzes us onto the runway at Kuala Namu International Airport and soon we’re floating over roads and rivers, dense coconut plantations and minarets that poke into the sky like ornate needles. Then there’s only thick green jungle punctured by rusty volcanic peaks. Finally a sea of turquoise opens up below us and disappears into the horizon. We bank right and little blobs of land appear then disappear beneath the wing of the Cessna. It’s rumoured that an old matriarch with ties to the mafia started this airline of twin prop workhorses. She was a lobster farmer who used to live on the island we’re heading towards. When business started booming, the boss needed a more reliable way of getting her wares to…

I met Sam for the first time in person at Coolum Beach, Sunshine Coast, in a backroom doing a support show. We actually first spoke over Tumblr, where he was reposting some of my photos; we were both into writing, and fairly emotional teenage boys, so we got chatting and we decided to meet at this show. 7 years on, he has been my best friend & most extensive travel partner – from shooting surf photos, to surf videos, to concerts and now is documenting a full-time tour video series called Net Positive. These are a few of our favourite things as a travelling full-time videographer/musician duo… A morning without a schedule Sam: One of life’s greater pleasures while travelling the world under an intense work schedule is the ability…

I reckon I’m the least qualified person to write about David “Baddy” Treloar, but as this issue of Horsies heads off to press, it wouldn’t do to ask Dan Ross or Laurie Towner or Nav Fox or Nat Young or Monty Webber or Nick Pope or Rod Dahlberg or Luke Short, or anyone in the Angourie family to try to put what’s just happened – Baddy completing his last lap of the Point – into any sort of words. If this thing has to be written today to squeeze into the mag, it’s probably best left to someone a little removed. By the time you read this, of course, Baddy’s passing will be a part of recent history, and dozens of beautiful tributes will have been circulated and published. But…

When I first read about the idea to try and build a boat made entirely from recycled plastic collected from beaches in Kenya, I thought the guys involved were crazy. We had recently moved to Nairobi after my wife got a job there and I stumbled upon their story in a local magazine. Ben Morison, Ali Skanda and Dipesh Pabari had founded an organisation called Flipflopi to raise awareness about plastic pollution – especially the thousands of discarded flip-flops and tons of single-use plastic that wash ashore along Kenya’s coastline every year. Now they wanted to show that this waste could be put to good use and were working with traditional boatbuilders on Lamu Island to build a 20-metre dhow, the beautiful sailing boats made in East Africa, which they…

I didn’t feel any pain, only pressure. My friends and I had been surfing a reef break on the west end of Kaua'I when the tiger shark came up vertically from below and grabbed onto both my legs. I stuck my right hand into its mouth to try pry my legs out. That didn't work. It started swaying me back and forth out of the water, so I instinctively punched it in the head in the desperate hope it would let me go. Finally it released me and I scrambled back onto my bodyboard. When I started paddling back to shore, my right leg began to spasm and shake. I thought it was the shark coming to finish me off. I looked over my shoulder and my heart dropped. My…

We’ve learnt the hard way that a dress rehearsal is always a good idea before any big adventure. You see, we – Aurélien Jacob, Ewen Le Goff and I – are the crew that make up Lost in the Swell, a harebrained Youtube mini-series that’s a bit of The Search and Survivor all rolled into one. Our goal is to find and document hard-to-reach waves, which usually requires unconventional means. So far we’ve marooned ourselves on a remote Indonesian island, sailed a teeny homemade trimaran through the Solomon Islands and bicycled along the croc-infested beaches of Gabon. A proper recon of our planned destination would be a far better idea, of course, but who’s got money for that? Which is how we ended up plodding along the Moroccan coastline on…

Humans are animals best suited to land. This is something I often forget, lulled into a false sense of belonging by my time spent in the brine – first as a photographer, second as an enthusiastic (albeit average) surfer. Out of the water we can move around as we wish and we are adept at seeing, hearing and interpreting our environment. Once we enter the ocean, however, it becomes alarmingly clear that we’re just clever mammals throwing ourselves into situations we’re not adapted for, donning all sorts of suits, fins and boards to aid us in our ventures. Our limited evolutionary ability means that most of us only get a fleeting glimpse of the vast worlds at work beneath us; a dynamic matrix inhabited by plants, animals and other organisms…

Peter O'Halloran • Wayne Rogers • Michael Orlov • Renae Scott • Nick Duncan • Paul Maddock • Gary Mountford • Tony Gilchrist • Tasha Samuels • Gary Lord • Max Compton • Ross Berthinussen • Matthew Keightley-Sawdon • Brendon Quinn • Matthew Giddy • Dennis Wright • William Inglis • Peter Brennan • Nic Long • Michael Gepp • Hugh McLeod • Ian Hosking • Neil Cain • Jason Farrell • Christopher Williams • Fernando Favata • Justin Leung • Jason Howes • Tracy Chambers • Rob Scott • Justine Branch • Adam Veitch • Christian Miles • Jason Gay • Mike Griggs • John Ratcliffe • Brett Menzies • Ian Grant • Michael Steele • David Rothwell • Peter Gardner • Robert Bending • Cooper Williams • Glenn…

In 1968, nine sailors of questionable mind set off on a race. The race was to circumnavigate the world non-stop in sailboats. Before GPS, before satellite navigation, smart phones and EPRB’s, nine men set off on a race around the world, in which some were lost the moment they could no longer see land. Ten months later only one would cross the finish line. For the other eight, their fate was either madness or death. Death on the seas in ill-fated Southern Ocean storms. Or, when the madness and isolation and constant threat of being taken by waves became too much, suicide became their only way out. Peter Nichols chronicled this contest in his book A Voyage of Madmen (itals). It was a story of lunacy on the high seas,…

There exists the most extraordinary phone booth in Japan. It sits in a serene garden overlooking the Pacific Ocean on the outskirts of a town called Otsuchi. The white, glass-framed phone booth holds within it a worn black Bakelite rotary phone whose cables are neatly coiled and attached to absolutely nothing. It never jangles with incoming calls and its outgoing calls do not travel through cords and wires. Instead, this phone carries within it meditations on life and death. It has become a site of pilgrimage for the residents of Otsuchi, who are still busy untangling the grief that remains knotted in their stomachs. A grief eight years old, after the tsunami struck and three 20-foot waves swirled through their streets and their bedrooms and their playgrounds. A centuries old…

In Cuba, most people don’t know what surfing is. More of a problem, it’s not technically legal. When the Cold War came to an end in the early ‘90s, all economic support for the communist island in the Caribbean evaporated as the Soviet Bloc crumbled. With the US embargo still in full swing, many Cubans were left starving and desperate. A mass exodus began via all forms of watercraft, ranging from car tyres to leaky tin rafts, prompting the government to effectively ban people from using the coastline. Around the same time, it turns out, a few young Cubans had begun experimenting with their own form of wave riding after seeing snippets of surf films and the odd surf magazine smuggled into the country by an adventurous traveller. When soldiers…

We migrate south along with the birds, following the sun’s warm rays as best we can to escape the UK winter’s bite. It’s become an annual tradition, working the summer season in the UK and spending our winters traveling Europe and beyond. Following the summer for as long as possible in search of adventures that align with our passions: chasing waves, exploring coastlines, photography and nature. Each time, we leave with the prospect of waves, wild landscapes, simple livin’ and sweet freedom. Most of our trips are driven and shaped by the surf, and living in our van allows us to do this while giving us the freedom we are looking for. Our home on wheels is an Iveco Daily van 1996, which is usually packed with a variety of…

Michael Adams picks up some of the finest teeth in the bay. He sleeps in an abandoned railway tunnel near the lagoon and walks to the beach each morning at dawn. First he rinses his face in the ocean, facing the harbour and the giant metal cranes of the container terminal; then he steps back to study the currents and pray. “Just two or three teeth,” he asks, holding his shoes behind his back. “Just one good find.” He opens his eyes and sets off. Adams, 29, has been collecting fossillised shark teeth for nearly two decades. The teeth are millions of years old and can fetch hundreds of dollars apiece on the international fossil market. Less valuable specimens, sold locally as trinkets or jewellery, are popular among tourists and…

I grew up on a 13-acre property overlooking the Southern Ocean, in Anglesea, Victoria. I started surfing when I was 10 and later I would ride my motorbike down to the beach. I spent as much time as I could over or under the water, surfing or fishing. Bells Beach was only about two kilometres down the road. I also started my carpentry apprenticeship with my dad back in Anglesea and I’ve been in the building trade nearly 35 years. We moved up to Cooloola behind Rainbow Beach, Queensland, in 1995, then built and sold several homes before finishing up on Rainbow Beach. I love the rugged Great Ocean Road coastline back in Victoria and the nearest I get to that is out at Double Island Point, 10 kays up…

Sometimes, when you’re away and wandering across faraway lands, you chance upon a place that feels like home. The kind of place you roll into after a long day on the road. Winding your way through lurid green forests with the van stezza cranked. Circumnavigating the lower reaches of fern-spangled volcanoes, the road rising up to meet you. The kind of place that makes your heart go a little bit woogly the very moment you arrive, coasting down a sleepy main street in the late afternoon. It’s that time of day when your eyes are getting all crinkly and you’re dreaming of the sound of a very cold beer being cracked open. About that time when everything seems to slow down and the light gets all yellow. There’s a beach…

You might have noticed a fair number of shark-related pages peppered throughout this issue. It was never premeditated but ended up making a compelling cross-section of stories on these creatures, which evoke both fear and wonder. Along with this comes a huge thanks to the indefatigable Mike Coots, who graciously shared his story and incredible images. If you want stoke and inspiration in bucket loads, Mike’s your man. Still on the topic of sharks, Kimon de Greef’s story The Collector is a must-read. Kimon is making a name as a brilliant investigative journalist focusing on environmental issues and has just released a riveting book on Abalone poaching. This is his first contribution to the Horse. Thanks to the legends at Makewild films, Corey McLean and Tyler Dunham, for all the…