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Everybody loves Fridays. Friday morning. It was flat yesterday but the forecast says swell is on the way. The wind’s offshore - I can hear the occasional gust howling outside, but I’m stuck at the office until 3 in the afternoon. On the plus side, sunset’s not till 7 pm and I don’t have to pick the kids up from school, so I have plenty of time for an afternoon surf. Nice. Through the day I check the buoys every hour, and it’s picking up fast. There will be waves, but where should I go? With the building swell the beach break could be maxing out, but will it be big enough for the point? At three o’clock I decide on the half hour drive to the beach break, but when I get there, of course it’s maxing out, damn it! Tide’s way too low. Should have known - high isn’t until just after 8. What to do? Going back to the point will cost too much time … but … the tide seems to be filling in fast, maybe more water will help things clean up here. I sit in the car watching, feeling frustrated, a little anxious. It’s the classic waiting game. A few surfers come and go, nobody stays. A friend parks alongside and we talk from car to car. ‘What are you up to mate?’ ‘I’m hoping that right-hander will turn on just before dark.’ ‘OK, good luck.’ He smiles and drives away. I stay. The clock is ticking. It’s 5:15 and I just see white water where there should be waves. Damn it, time’s running out. I start thinking I’ve blown it but then … a middle sized wave just looked good. Might as well give it a go, I think, I’ve nothing better to do. I pull out my 3/2, slip into it and start walking slowly down the cliff. I’m definitely not in a rush. Once in the water, I start duckdiving. You know the drill, 1,2,3,4,5 … eventually I make it out. I know the lineup and where to sit. It’s a while before my first wave, and it’s nothing too exciting, but I watch a good one on the way back out. I wait some more, a big set breaks outside but the foam almost disappears before getting to me. I wait a little more, and then a really good looking one starts coming my way. I drop in, almost get barreled and pull out in time to see another good one go unridden. The froth starts building inside me. Soon, it stops breaking on the outside and everything falls into place. A couple more guys get in the water just before dark. ‘It’s good hey, looks incredible from the car park!’ I nod, with a big grin on my face. We trade waves until it’s too dark to see. Victory! To make things even better, that night I’m sipping a beer at home when my phone beeps. It’s a message from Irene, a local photographer. ‘Hey, I have some photos of you from today.’ ‘Huh, really? Cool, thanks!!’ Chus (Jesús Fiochi Alonso) (Edited by Rob Harwood, Pics by Irene) THE DARK DAYS BACK– 2021 I have been struggling with how to start this piece. I guess I should tell you a little about myself. What I do for a living is not who I am, yeah, I get to blow shit up and its super fun but it’s not what defines me. I have been a water baby all my life from growing up on the beach to commercial diver. The ocean or the ocean’s rhythm ebbs and flows within me. Surfing has been the biggest part of my life for longer than I care to remember. For sure I have been out the water for extended periods before while working on projects overseas. Always with the knowledge that I will be getting wet again, sometime soon. I have never before been concerned that surfing will not be an option. I have always just figured I would surf till the day I die. October 2019 we were still basking in the glory of a once in a lifetime trip to the Ments. 10 Kneelos on a boat sailing around the Mentawai’s. Absolutely what dreams are made of. Red, Giggs, Lester, Larry, Craig, Steve, Johan, Andrew and myself. Jason the skipper of Switchfoot made it 10 chargers in total. We had also had a run of solid swell at the local, which for me was all time as my new Kneeon that Nick had shaped for me had arrived. Nick and I had chatted over the phone, had a few video calls and bam!! this magic carpet arrives. Oh my sack, I have never been happier with a stick. My surfing went up in leaps and bounds. Never been happier in my life. Around this time, I started to get pains in my left hip which radiated down the leg. Initially it wasn’t too bad but it got progressively worse. It got to a stage where I literally couldn’t walk anymore. Thinking it’s got to be the hip, off I went to the hip specialist. Had some photos taken of the hip, back to the clever guy’s office and this is where things started to go south. Mate, as hips go, yours look beautiful but I recommend you go see a neurosurgeon. Your spine doesn’t look good at all. You can imagine, I’m thinking “what the fuck, are you sure you’re looking at the right X-rays.” So, at least by this time I was on crutches to help me get around and waddled off to see Dave. Dave is a neurosurgeon that had done some work on my spine before. Same sort of story, pain in my shoulder, radiating down my right arm. True as nuts, I had gone to the shoulder clever guy who had told me exactly what the hip guy had just told me. Anyway, a long story short, Dave did a decompression on the C7 and T1 vertebrae. I was booked on a boat trip to the Maldives with my good mate Guy. He is a stand up but I love him anyway. I manage to get on the plane without really having tested the neck or having had time for rehab of any sorts. Probably not my brightest move. We had solid swell the whole trip, but truth be told, I was in constant pain. Once back in SA, I was off to see Dave again. X-rays and CT scans followed, and Dave said unfortunately we going to have to fuse the C7 and T1 but we will go in through the front this time. Absolutely no problems whatsoever and I was back in the water 3 months later. Dave, howzit I’m back. More scans and X-rays (starting to know everyone by their first names by now) followed. Yip, pretty much the same story, crumbling, degeneration of the spine. I was booked in for a decompression on the L4 and L5. The procedure was pretty standard and uneventful. Unfortunately, just as with the neck, the decompression was not successful. A week later, I was booked in for a multistage fusion, L4, L5 and S1. So, they going to open me up again along the same incision line, not feeling great about that but hey, there are worse things in life. Waking up from this op was a rude awakening. Fuck me this shit hurts. Trying to move was pretty tender for sure. Anyhow the drugs did their thing and a few days later I was able to get out of bed and lose the dreaded catheter. Walking was fair interesting to say the least, I had to laugh at myself as I looked like a mummy. Little shuffles with my hands out front but hey, I was mobile. The day they let me out rolled around. Crap balls I felt like shit and was fair tender. It felt like someone was taking a mallet to my head. I remember battling to get into the wheelchair to get me to the car. The nausea was just incredible, I thought I was going to throw up all over the place. Between the porter and Jo (my wife) they managed to get me into the car. The ride home is not too far but I was deteriorating at a rapid rate of knots. Got home, Jo managed to get me onto her “throne” where I just passed out. Through the rest of the day and night I remember fleeting moments of being awake. Couldn’t move, didn’t know what was going on. Basically, a vegetable on the couch. The next morning Jo realized that this wasn’t good. Somehow or other she managed to bundle me into the car. I have a memory of the gardener holding the car door open with a look of concern on his face. The next thing I was on a gurney at the hospital with Debbie staring at me. Debbie is Jo’s business partner and one of my best friends. Tests and more tests. Somehow or other I had picked up Bacterial Meningitis. Jo had literally just saved my life. A few hours later and it wouldn’t have turned out well. Some serious antibiotics and medication I can’t even pronounce later, my infection levels started coming down, but the headaches wouldn’t go away. Back into the noisy tube for some more scans. Was good to see all the guys and gals in radiology again. Crap balls I had a rupture in the thecal sac. Basically, it’s a sac that runs up your spine and over the brain. The sac contains cerebrospinal fluid. When leaking the sac “collapses” on the brain causing insane headaches, headaches that are just next level. Think migraine on steroids. Back into theatre to patch up the leak. Once again, they opened me up on the same incision. Success at last, once again freedom day arrived and was bundled into the wheelchair again and back into the car. Was great to be home with the animals for sure. Jo had made a bed for me in the lounge as walking at this point just really wasn’t an option. To say I was tender would be a bit of an understatement. A day later, I got this incredible pain down my left leg. Kinda like being hit with a cattle prodder. I remember screaming as the first one hit. Absolute agony, pain like I had never felt. It would last for about 30 seconds but in that time, I couldn’t move a finger for fear of escalating the pain. I just screamed and screamed. Over the next two days, it got worse and more frequent. This was an incredible low point. I remember crying like a baby. I was emotionally drained by this time. I remember thinking I just want to be normal again. Remember, I can hardly walk, can’t even get down on the toilet to take a dump. I hadn’t had a shit for as long as I can remember. My wife was washing me and dressing me. It was taking its toll. This carried on for two days until it got to a point where I just couldn’t move. An ambulance and crew had to come and peel me off the couch eventually. They dosed me up, got a stretcher underneath me and carried me out to the ambulance. Jesus, what the fuck!! But hey, could be worse…right? Back to my favorite people with the noisy machine. Hi everyone, true as nuts I’m back. Another scan revealed that the crushed bone material that they place between your vertebrae was leaking out and catching the nerve going down my leg. Another twirl in theatre to clean up the debris, by this time the clock on the wall and I were good friends. I used to watch the seconds tick by as the anesthetic started kicking in. I woke up from here being wheeled into high care. Now I have to tell you this was by far my worst experience. The following morning two nurses came to wash me. I was in absolute agony and they kept moving me and turning me. I was screaming in absolute agony, but they wouldn’t stop and no-one came to help me. To this day I can’t understand it. Couldn’t wait to get out of there and back on to a ward. Or so I thought… From there they wheeled me into an isolation ward. Apparently, I had picked up the dreaded hospital Super bug. My infection count was in the 400’s (8 being normal) and to make matters worse, the headaches were back. I had sprung another fucking leak in my Thecal sack. FUCK!!! Back to my old friend on the wall with the ticking second hand. Again, opening me up on the same line. This time I wasn’t friends with the clock on the wall. Dave patched me up as best they could. What the actual… My new home turned out to be a glass box in the ICU. In isolation in intensive care. Jesus, this isn’t good. Nurse and doctors were putting gear on to come into the glass box. “What’s going on???” Machines were everywhere beeping and hissing. “Fuck me, this isn’t good.” Waking up at 4am with people sticking needles into you to draw blood loses its shine after a while. I think all I ate for the two weeks was watermelon in the morning that Debbie used to bring me with a cup of coffee. When I say bring, I really mean bribe the porter. Now you must remember I have basically been bedridden for 6 weeks and not had an appetite at all. I could see the concern on peoples face when they came to visit, as much as they tried to hide it, it was there. Nights were the worst and the tears used to flow. So as not to let the pressure in the Thecal sac become too great, they drained it every few hours. This as I’ve said to you before brings on insane headaches. Morphine and I were no longer friends. It made me incredibly sad and depressed. I came off the morphine by choice and gritted the teeth. Absolutely worth the pain. Lester and Marco organized a live feed for me for the warmup session before the SA Kneeboarding Champs. What legends. Once again, I cried like a baby, but these were tears of joy. It was so good to watch my mates surfing and everyone saying “hi” on the feed made me feel like a million bucks. The brotherhood is strong here in Cape Town. Love these boys. At this point I was literally skin and bone, but my infection levels were coming down and I had managed to get out of bed and make the few steps to the toilet. The sun was definitely coming up for me. For the first time in a long time, I thought I was going to make it. Fuck, the thought of dying in that glass box haunted me every night there. Freedom day was like no other. Getting out of there into the sunshine and colors and breeze was a sensory overload, but hey, I was out and feeling good…ish. My mates, Debbie and Sian had kept me going. Sian is my office manager and best friend. She tried to feed me all the way through to no avail, true as nuts she used to arrive with bags of food. God it was good to be home. Reality starts to kick in pretty quickly. Fuck me am I ever going to be able to surf again, am I ever going to be able to sit on the toilet again (it’s the little things hahaha…) Time to reset the mind from “fuck me, I don’t want to die in here to I need to get in the water again”. Enter the amazing Lara, the physio that is a gift from the angels. I remember that late December day shuffling and shaking my way into her office. By this time, all my muscles had wasted away and just holding my frame up was as much as I could muster. I could do about 2 minutes before all my muscles started shaking from fatigue and I was still shuffling like a mummy. The question Lara asked me off the bat was “what do you want to get out of this.” “Just get me back in the water please,” was my response. At this point it was a fantasy I had to believe in, physically I was a mess, but I think mentally I was scarred and the mental trauma was real. But fuck it, if I could survive that, I can achieve anything. The will to get back in the water was incredible and became all consuming. Walking around the house became my exercise routine initially and braai tongs my best friend (in case I dropped stuff as bending was not an option). I had to hold on to everything at first as I walked along, eventually I could skip the kitchen counter on the way to the TV room and skip the chairs on the way to my room, and so it went on until I could just about walk the whole house without holding or resting. Lara had given me gentle low impact stuff to do, just to tone the muscles and stretches to get some life back in the buggers. Everything hurt. This was a continuous process that I did all day every day for a few weeks. I was starting to feel more stable on my feet which did wonders for my mental wellbeing. Progress was gradual but I started noticing results which made me feel like a million dollars. Getting behind the wheel again was a massive boost for me. My buddy Kante who is a running coach, walked with me from my local to St James, what a joy being next to the ocean again, mind surfing every bump that came through. I steadily built this up over time. Eventually I could make it to Muizenberg and back (5 kms). Everything ached at this point and the thought of shortening every walk was ever present. 4am wake ups every day can be a challenge and for sure there were mornings I couldn’t bear the thought of getting up. Sore back, sore hips, it’s dark and it’s cold, fuck this shit. On the odd occasion that I didn’t manage to get going, that feeling of worthlessness would set in. What the fuck is wrong with you, don’t you want to get back in the water? That’s not a cool feeling. I have probably missed 3 days in the six months I have been rehabbing. A 45-minute 5km walk followed by an hour of rehab back at home. I can’t begin to count the many lonely hours I have spent in the dark, walking and processing thoughts and priorities. My weekly visits to Lara are always a highlight. My flexibility is measured as well as my strength. Some weeks just like some days are better than others. Lately there are a few moments of some days that I am totally pain free. These can quickly be followed by days and moments of crappy pain, but I will take the good ones for sure. Setbacks some and it’s natural to be bummed by them. Thinking “end goal” always helps. Watching Billy Kemper’s story after that crazy injury in Morocco has inspired me tremendously and there is a kinship that forms in adversity. To keep the spirits up, I have ordered me a new board from Nick (Kneeon) which should arrive any day. Jedd has also shaped me a 5’4 twinny that looks more like something that should be flying in space rather than the water. Can’t wait to get these beauties wet. The daily grind continues relentlessly and it’s not always easy to appreciate the reasons for the dark hours one spends with oneself on the rehab trail. I want the prize now. Sheesh, it’s a constant battle upstairs. Here’s the weird thing, the closer I get to the end of April (paddle out day…hopefully), the more fearful I become. Will I be able to, and can I still? All this and more just keeps swimming in the head and there’s the self-doubt. Fuck it’s terrifying. I have gone over it a million times in my head, do I just paddle out at a gentle beach break and see how it goes. Na, that scares me more. Soft waves are hard work and the amount of torque on the spine terrifies me. What if the nuts and bolts pop out? There is no way in hell I am going back to that building with the big red cross on it. This drives me harder for sure back on the road, back to the floor and core exercises. Lara assures me the hyperextension of the back I have obtained through this time will definitely be fine for paddling. The torque and pressure on the lower back coming off the bottom and turning off the top, is what scares the crap out of me. The reef and I are intimate, god knows I have bounced and scraped along her so many times. I have certainly paid my dues. Wiping out doesn’t scare me, it’s that word again “TORQUE”. Perhaps I will just go straight on the first few. That in itself presents a bit of a problem at the local, but that’s where my head is. I know you will all understand this, “what if a section just presents itself, just asking to be slapped”. It is so ingrained in each and every one of us, that muscle memory just takes over. Going to have to be ever vigilant. I have swum out to the peak just to be out there with the guys. The first time was not great. It took me so long just to get to the water. Jumping off the railway line so not an option. Doing the walk around and trying to get over the rocks was tricky to say the least. Feeling the water over my feet was an absolute delight, but crap balls, had the water got colder since the last time? As soon as I laid in the water, it dawned on me that this is going to be quite the journey. I couldn’t swim on my stomach as the pain was intense, but fuck it, I was going out. I swam on my side and back. Eventually I made it, the guys cheered and whooped, I felt like I had just won the lottery. It was so good to be part of the conversation out there again, it was so good to hear how stoked the guys were for me, life was good. I fed off this like I had been starved of life for ages. Today being the Saturday before the Wednesday that I go back to Dave (the surgeon), brings turmoil to my emotions. I’m not sure what I am scared of more, being told you aren’t ready or yeah, go get in the water. I am so scared of not surfing to my full potential again. Every day closer brings more panic. I just want it to be over now. Wednesday morning dawned (but not really), up at 4am and back on the road. Usually, I am thinking about the workday ahead but this morning not so much. My head is swimming with what ifs. What if there is still something wrong, what if I can’t anymore, what if, what if… On the drive to see Dave, the surgeon, my heart is beating at a million beats/minute. It’s good to see Dave again in a weird type of way, he really is a very cool guy. Anyhow, he sends me off for some more pictures of the spine. Gotta say I was staring at the radiologist for some clues, but nothing. The stress is killing me, and I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest. So, back up to Dave with the thumping heart, I can hear it in my ears. It all looks brilliant mate. What… I could not believe what I was hearing. He took me through the X-rays explaining what he was looking for and everything was just right. There’s no use putting off the inevitable he says to me, go get in the water…but don’t be stupid. I wanted to scream it to the world! Obviously, the doubts started kicking in hard right about now, but hey, I had gotten the green light. Thursday morning I was off to Lara for physio. I couldn’t wait to tell her the good news. The muscles on the left side of my back had been in spasm for two weeks now, so as thrilled as she was, there was the don’t be stupid again. I had coached myself in my mind for months now, high tide, small waves and just go straight…right. Friday morning and the reports started coming in. There’s a bit of a wave at the local. “It’s go time.” With my heart in my mouth, I started packing the car. Sweet Lord, it had been a while, I had to keep double checking I had everything packed. I don’t think I noticed any other cars on the way, I was mind surfing all the way through to the local. I got there a few hours before the high just to get my head straight and check the lineup. There were some chunky 4 footers coming through, but I wanted some more water on the rock. I watched my mate Dave paddle out and get some screamers. Steve finally arrived, “I thought you would be in your suit already” he says. This is it, heart in the throat again, off we went. Sheesh it was so good to feel the waves crashing over my feet and legs again. Jumped on my board and started paddling. Woooohoooo absolutely no pain. Got out to the takeoff zone and everyone was cheering and welcoming me back. How humbling. Mickey Duffus, a local big wave legend was out. Everybody back off he bellowed, this man hasn’t surfed for 6 months. For some reason, this made me relax and just enjoy the moment. Something started standing up out the back, Steve was sitting in the channel waiting for me to have my first ride. “You going Mick?” I heard someone ask. Yip I heard coming out my mouth, I spun and went. Muscle memory and familiarity with the wave kicked in. I made the drop…Fuck I couldn’t believe it came around the section and just flopped off my board. Steve and Dave had the biggest smile on their faces. The emotion of the occasion just swept over me like a wave, and the tears started flowing. All I kept thinking about was lying in ICU thinking fuck, I don’t want to die in here to taking off on the first wave. Well, for the rest of the session, I absolutely sent it, trying to take off as deep as possible on the gnarliest set waves. All the coaching I had done in my head for the last few months went straight out the window. In for a penny, in for a pound. Damn, I felt so alive, without a doubt, the happiest man on the planet. When I got back to the car park, all of the Kneelo crew were in the car park and boy were they happy for me. Sean Thompson was there too, shooting my waves and recording the moment. How blessed am I. Nothing was getting the smile off my face. When I lay in bed that night, I kept thinking of the months of rehab and hard work I had gone through. The many lonely dark hours of the mornings, but I had done it. The next morning, we were on it at first light with the Westside boys coming through as well. The Kneelo brotherhood in Cape Town is tight. I am so humbled by all the good wishes and thoughts from everyone. Just want to mention Lester, who kept me sane in the last two months. We chatted every day for the last while, sometimes a few times in a day. He kept me motivated and hungry and for this I will be forever grateful. There are so many people to thank for getting me through this period. I think you know who you are, and I will get to everyone individually. It’s good to get wet again. I started writing this piece to help anyone in similar circumstances. Stick with your plan and give it everything no matter how hopeless your situation may seem. At the end of the day this was such a therapeutic exercise for me. Something I didn’t expect. The trauma was and is real and this has certainly helped me face it and deal with it. If this helps even one person get over and through a rough period of hopelessness, its job done. Mickey Kirsten Legless Contributor SA Kneelos A few quick phone calls for a 1 metre swell @ 10 seconds. Its mid week, we all have the same idea. We shuffle work, family etc in hope of scoring some clean southern swell energy with a favourable wind.Chayne Simpson, Albert Munoz, David Parkes, myself and we bump into Simon Farrer on the South Coast.It was the perfect mental health day. This is a legless session. Steeno
Legless Sessions Lake Parade Young DY point ripper Charles Mowbray dropped into our Wollongong stomping grouds this week to share some waves with our current World Champion Chayne Simpson and two x World Champ Albert Munoz. On hand to capture some footage and to spread the legless love was non other than legendary Terry Day. 
@charles_mowbray taking kneeriding to the next generation #leglesstv #kneeboardsurfing 📷 Harrison Morse-Evans (at Red Sands, Shell Harbour) The Dream Run: Greg Holzman’s Island Life Part 2. If you were born before the last twenty years of the 20th century you’re able to grasp how much new technology and cheap air travel have changed the world and the way we live in it: profound changes that have touched every aspect of our lives. Surfing has always required commitment to the pursuit of good waves, but the nature and depth of that commitment has morphed and grown. Greg joked with us about one of the photos he sent us - him perfectly framed in the spiralling mouth of a smooth and luminous barrel - saying it was “nothing money can’t buy”. He’s right of course, but money’s only part of it – to experience the kind of nirvana we glimpse in shots like that requires planning, preparation of equipment, logistics, lots of water-time and perhaps more than anything, fitness. Add to this the fact that as a self-employed fisherman, when Greg’s not working, he’s not earning. Sponsors? Well, he gets a few boards from Buddy McCray. His logistical team is a loose network of local contacts he’s developed to facilitate the various resources and services inevitably required at short notice in out of the way places. Greg’s strike missions are conceived, organised, funded and executed autonomously: it’s all his own experience, knowledge, time and money. There are few among us able to shut up shop and disappear, possibly for months at a time, living self-sufficiently on the road, chasing the chance of finding a particular spot firing for a limited time. You may plan for a road trip or a boat trip, but Greg’s is commitment on a whole other level. Access to technology is one thing, knowing how to put it to best use is a skill acquired over time. Greg’s background in fishing has been a huge help in interpreting long-range weather forecasts, weather maps, charts of out of the way places: all key factors in his ability to score quality waves. Help and advice from fellow travellers, including a smattering of kneeboard surfers spread around the globe. Behind all this though, remain two things. One is what started it all going more than half a lifetime ago in San Diego: an irrepressible drive to ride big, challenging, high quality waves. The other is what drove Greg to leave Oahu for the outer islands in the late 70’s: the drive to explore the outermost limits of his ability on his own, away from the crowd. While there are plenty of pro and semi-pro freesurfing footboarders criss-crossing the globe at any given time, each with a Youtube channel and an Instagram account, it’s kind of nice to know that kneeboard surfing has Greg Holzman out there pushing the limits of what’s been done and pushing the rest of us to step up our game and look beyond our comfort zone. Greg views his big wave pursuits as “strike missions”. Track a swell, find a spot, check wind and tide permutations, airlines, local travel, accommodation, be ready to go at the drop of a hat, and be prepared to surf at 100% when you get there. He’s been doing this for about 40 years, perhaps with increasing sophistication and expertise, but that’s the only change. We received an email just after Christmas. “So for fear of more words I’ll give you the story of my first solo big wave venture. It was at Pipeline. 1978. It was a giant West swell. Surf reports weren’t accurate back then but looking out I could see it was nice East winds in Kailua and I knew a big West swell was pumping. I was all about Pipeline at the end of my Oahu period so I felt very comfortable out there. I surfed with the heavies of the day, so I was pushing my limits. Driving up Kam Highway, the hour it took really got the heart pumping, especially when I hit Indicators reef and saw how big it was. More often than not, the swell was huge instead of too small, but in the 70’s no-one knew how big till you got there. When I got to Ehukai Beach Park I saw no-one out, perfect offshores and third reef sets at 20ft Hawaiian. Some amazing waves but I wasn’t sure I was ready for that! Jack Lindholm was headed out on his bodyboard. I watched him catch a few incredible rides that got me stoked. The Second reef was capping hard and seemed like easy take-offs, but that was Jack on a bodyboard and he could take off later than anyone at the time. I remember he didn’t make it out of a tube on one and came up the beach with his board almost torn in half. I didn’t know him but commented on his board. He said he was going to change boards and go back out so I told him I would get ready and meet him out there. As I walked down to the beach I saw Sam Hawk paddle out, headed to the peaks at outside Log Cabins. I never saw Sammy again. Obviously, he lived, but that was all I saw of him as it was soon after this that I moved to Kauai. Anyway, I paddled out. It wasn’t that hard; in fact it was really easy with the channel and a big West swell. Everyone was at Waimea Bay - for good reason. When I got out, I remember seeing the sets on the outer reefs break a minute or two before they hit us. What I remember most was how hard it was to catch those monsters on my 5’2” twin fin fish. The waves had a deep-water slope to them, and you had to take off as the wave was breaking. Jack had it down and before too long he was gone. I never saw Jack again either. So here I am and all I’m seeing is giant lines - just like the movies - and I’m getting further and further from shore. I’m thinking that I may need to get rescued and wondering if anyone’s watching in the lifeguard tower. I thought how embarrassing that would be and decided I needed to move inside and catch one underneath or I was not going to get in. Paddling in was a death sentence and it was obviously on the rise, so in between sets I paddled inside. When a set approached EVERYTHING in me said “move outside NOW”, but I waited. I thought if I didn’t catch that first one I was getting to that beach dead or alive. Luckily, I made the right call and that first wave was deep and inside and an easy take-off. In fact, I commented to myself on how easy it was, really. Once it hit that first reef I just sat there in this big easy barrel - no fear anymore - and the wave was just as perfect and easy a wave as I could get. It spit and I glided out onto the shoulder. I looked out thinking “I can do that again” when … the whole channel was closing out. I immediately turned for shore, just in time to see it turn to close-out sets. When I got there I heard the hoots and claps of tourists cheering. I had survived my first solo big wave event. It scared me but I never felt more alive and I never forgot it. Just like many firsts, they are worth remembering.” So, fast forward to 2016, with Greg’s island life undergoing change, and another dream run about to start. While in Kandui in May that year, Greg picked up a Facebook friend request from Paul Macklin, an Aussie traveller who for years had sent him photos of his surf travels. Paul was then living in Bali. Greg decided he needed to return to G-land, so in July he left for Bobby’s Camp. Paul met me in the camp. Bobby Radiasa remembered me - it was like I had never left. All the same guys. Many had gone back every year I was gone. Having that family vibe in camp is a very addictive feeling and Facebook has kept us all back in contact. So, 2018 became the thirty-year reunion for me and G-land. I had three trips in 2018 looking for the gold standard G-land of June - July 2016 that was still the three swells of recent memory. I got amazing waves, but that massive perfect Speed Reef (which rarely happens) eluded me. After seeing the photos of those days I swore I was investing in this as a goal: to get it at its best. I didn’t care how many trips it would take. After G-land in July 2017, I was off to South Africa: from Bali to J-bay. I worried about the cold, coming straight from the tropics, and I did freeze, but I learned a few tricks there as well on staying warm - including a 1mm wetsuit top under my clothes - that let no cold air in on those freezing surf checks! That’s where I met Gigs and Stevo. I stayed with Mike Ruthnum, who I’m indebted to for introducing me to great people, fellow KB riders, and secret surf spots that I will always remember. J-bay was an eye-opener. Much had changed there. Crowds were always a factor, but the town had a great vibe. The South Africans have all the forecasting at their fingertips now, so they come from around the country for the bigger swells, which I found different than the 80’s. But with that came KB riders. I found a very cool group of fellow riders who were happy, very much a club feeling, and with a wide range of boards … it was an impressive group. I came home knowing that I would return next season. A month is not enough time in Africa. But as soon as I got home, I saw $500 tickets return to Bali. I knew Gigs was going and Simon Farrer - who I hadn’t seen since he was 18 on my island with Buddy - was meeting Gigs at G-land. Simon was already a phenomenon at 18. Seeing his movies made me want to spend time with these two world champs. So back I went for more. That took me right into the 2018-19 season with a passion for strike missions. I managed to strike a few Pacific spots early 2019 during Hawaii’s stormy moments. Each time selling more plants and looking: as soon as it was a good moment and I had cash I was going - sometimes with less than 8 hours to pack and be at the airport. I was on call for G-land when I saw a series of swells and good winds lining up. I told myself I wasn’t going to plan in advance for Indo anymore. My goal was one which wouldn’t end till I caught that 2016 Gold standard swell. Lucky for me it came on a day that looked like it wasn’t going to happen. The surf was huge and the direction was good with a high tide, but the wind was light onshore. I was pretty bummed when I saw the rain at 9 am, (not usually a good sign) but it passed quickly. All the guys went in. I knew the winds were changing with that sound the bamboo makes and quickly suited up. I got down to the beach and Donny the photographer said to hop on his bike. Blacky and he were headed out on the boat to take photos. I knew it was good and a heavy paddle out, so off we went. As soon as we neared it, we saw this was no normal day. When you see the photographer and boat driver pounding the boat and cheering like they were you know it’s not a normal day. Two guys were out, but they wanted nothing to do with those sets. My heart was pounding hard. I knew this was going to be a test - of all I had learned to stay safe, and the test of my equipment I so badly wanted. What made it even better was my photographer was right on it with me to document. I paddled out to an empty lineup and two guys who just paddled over the sets. It was destiny, fate, or just plain perseverance. I learned a lot: about my boards, my goals and how hard it is to drive
through those shock waves deep in barrels when it’s like that. I could see that
what I needed was a board with the fins further back for stability as one
bottom turn is all you get and then you’re behind and flying. Some I made, some
I should have made, and others were just plain heavy. The crowd eventually
showed up and the tide went out. One of the biggest problems with this kind of
swell is it’s only good at high tide for a maximum of 4 hours. Usually only
about 2 to 3 hours at its best. That’s a lot of investment for such a
short window. For me it was worth it. It taught me I could still do it and what
my boards needed next mission to maximize my tube time. It’s obvious that there’s a lot more to surf exploration at this level than meets the eye. A lifetime of preparation and expense may seem a high price to pay for memories - a few photos and stories representing the sole concrete evidence of mere minutes spent riding perfect surf - but to Greg, as for anyone else doing what he does, it’s not about money. I’ve done 12 trips in three years and surfed Hawaii winters every swell I can in between. I’ve gone to 5 destinations and gone back to each - if I can - till I am satisfied I’ve caught it at its best. I feel I have only really achieved that this year (2019) at G land, which is lucky because next year isn’t going to be the year - with the WSL going off there in the middle of the season. In Hawaii we take surfing very seriously. It has changed from when I started, Then, it was much more about the soul surfer and not publicizing where you went and not photographing your sessions. It wasn’t for money either. Now, everyone thinks they can get a free something if they’re good. It’s competitive and I try to remain in a collaborative mind-space. I have found it’s probably a help that I am a KB rider because we’re always trying to prove we belong in the lineup. At this point I rarely feel I can’t deal with things in a lineup, but often I know the fight isn’t worth the effort. I’ll voluntarily move out of the space as I don’t like catching scraps. If I have no chance for the sets, I’ll remove myself from the situation to save myself from certain mental crisis. Or a yelling match. This happened a few times at Jeffreys this year and in September 2018 at G-land with 80 guys in the water. Everyone - even your friends - are on a different level and chances are you’re not going to like what you see, so I’m out at that point. Knowing how much effort went into getting himself into the line-up for those sessions, that’s a pretty big statement, one that we might all be wise to keep in mind every time we paddle out. Words - Rob Harwood - Legless.tv Photos: Donny Lopez, John Barber & Courtesy of Greg Holzman 
Richard “Nat” Palmer #leglesstv #kneeboardsurfing #thelord 📷 @16images (at Wollongong, New South Wales) 
Special days @simonsparrowfarrer #leglesstv #kneeboardsurfing 📷 @16images @hartbruce (at Wollongong, New South Wales) 
@chayne_oin #worldchampion2020 #leglesstv #kneeboardsurfing 📷 @16images @parkeskneeboards 
You know that travelling feeling #leglesstv #kneeboardsurfing @chayne_oin #worldchampion2020 📷 @16images @parkeskneeboards Peter Fairweather in full flight at the current World Kneeboard Titles in Dunedin. Pics: Brad Colwell - Legless Contributor Pretty big: Chayne Simpson, World Champion 2020. Australia has a newly crowned surfing world champion. On the 9th of March, Chayne Simpson, from Wollongong NSW, beat Californian Sam Coyne to win the World Kneeboard Surfing Championship in convincing fashion. The event went down in Dunedin, New Zealand, organised by the New Zealand Kneeboard Surfing Association. Conditions were varied throughout the event with the final surfed in small waves on a high tide that effectively saw competition reduced to a game of strategy and patience. This is particularly ironic: Chayne made the quarter finals of this event when he first entered in 1999 and has consistently placed high since. He’s been runner up a number of times, but never won. Always the bridesmaid, now at last, the bride. Chayne’s been riding kneeboards since the age of about 15, when he was growing up on the NSW south coast. A mad bodyboarder at the time, he recalls trips after school with his brother Troy, and Mark Slater, whose dad Rob would ferry them around to surf the pick of the local breaks. With a healthy kneelo underground in the area it was inevitable that Chayne would see the possibilities offered by increased speed and turning power: it wasn’t long before Rob Slater had the boys on kneeboards and surfing regular club competitions with the Wollongong Area Kneeboard Association (WAKA). This is amateur surfing, the kind where people turn up month after month, year after year, because they’re dedicated to their sport, not because there’s any financial gain down the track. It’s very fertile ground, but kneeboard comps are often more about a chance for the far flung and sometimes isolated kneeboard fraternity to catch up than winning. The bulk of the field tends to be pretty flat, but the top level are as far beyond the ability of the average kneelo as the top 44 footboarders are above the average surfer. At that level, competition can become intense: a World Title is at stake after all. Chayne lives less than a kilometre from Albert Munoz, a transplant from Puerto Rico now resident in Wollongong, also a two-time kneeboard world champion and one of Chayne’s best mates. The two don’t surf together all that much because both have young families and wildly different day jobs (Albert holds a PhD and is a university professor, Chayne is a fireman and a qualified signwriter.) Chayne reckons he has the pick of the surf because his work allows more flexibility to plan sessions around the forecasts, while Albert’s job dictates when he’s able to surf. Albert can be found at East Corrimal any day there are waves, (outside of office hours), while Chayne tends to travel the South Coast a lot more, hunting quality. When they do surf together, surprisingly, there’s little competition. Said Chayne, We don’t compete at all when we’re free-surfing, at least I don’t. I like watching what he’s doing, but that old cliché of trying to do better, you know - he’s done a turn, I want to do one better … I think we’re getting a bit old for that. The two first met at the World Titles on the Sunshine Coast in the early 2000s. Chayne remembers Albert as a really annoying little bastard in the water who just wanted every single wave that came in. Freesurfing he was annoying the hell out of me. I think I had a bit of a go at him, told him he can’t have every wave and to just calm down. He just ignored me and paddled away. After Albert moved to the South Coast and joined the WAKAs, the two ended up mates. It’s a solid friendship that’s endured some 16 years now, with the pair often travelling to competitions together as well as working on Legless.TV. A very talented waterman, Chayne surfs because he likes doing it. He rides kneeboards because he likes the point of difference it brings to a line up as well as the pure camaraderie that pervades this tiny branch of surfing’s family tree[RH1] . Chaynes relationship with the World Title has been fraught from the start. He remembers being ousted by a ruthless American in the quarter-final in 1999, when the competition was run without a priority system. A wave popped up where Chayne and another competitor were sitting. He was sitting inside me, so I asked him if he was gonna go, and he said no, I’m not going, you go. I went, and I turned around and he was behind me on the wave. I got an interference. One of the dirtiest tricks you’re ever gonna get, I reckon. Chayne doesn’t push the contest side of things at all. No, I’m definitely more into freesurfing, 100%. I could never go in a contest again and I‘d be fine. Some people train for it, study opponents and all that sort of thing, yeah: I just go surfing. I also wanted to win this World Title, but … I nearly got knocked out first heat again in this one, it was as close as it gets. I think I’m not that competitive until it gets to the final. I’d rather get knocked out first heat than come second in the final. Of course in Chayne’s case this is no hypothetical supposition. In previous titles, where I’ve bombed out first heat, I couldn’t have cared less. I’ve just gone ‘oh well, that was funny.’ But when I’ve worked to get to the final, through the whole contest, and then I don’t win, that actually does crush me a little bit at that point. Kyle Bryant mentored me a little through this contest. He sent me a message that said ‘Don’t come second, mate, second’s fucked. You’re better off getting knocked out first heat than you are coming second.’ I reckon he’s 100% right. At the 2009 event, held at Opunake, NZ, Chayne was seeded into round 3 but was knocked out in his first heat. Unfazed, he took off in a campervan with his brother and a mate and a guidebook. We had a Surfing New Zealand book, no kids, no women. We just travelled around and went surfing. We chased wherever was offshore and had swell, had a few beers every afternoon. Every corner we turned we got pumping waves. We scored everywhere we went. Best surf trip I’ve ever been on. We just got lucky – unlucky in the contest, lucky in the trip. Kneeboarding’s regularly criticised for the age of the people who do it. With a heyday perceived to be somewhere in the late 70s, kneeboarding has produced several world champions over the age of 40. Past winners have expressed a desire to see the world title go to new, younger surfers, but this is a branch of surfing whose constituency is aging, into which few younger surfers care to venture. The event this year was remarkable in that both finalists were under 40. Chayne is as keen as anyone to see new blood in the sport. Who does he rate? Well, it’s an ageing sport. The talent pool in that younger age range isn’t deep, but there are some guys. Tom Novakov (son of past World Champ Michael Novakov) came through the harder side of the draw and took down a couple of guys people probably wouldn’t have expected him to take down, but he surfed well, he had me on the ropes in the quarters. There’s a young kid from Dee Why who’s surfing really well at the moment, Charlie Mowbray – he wasn’t there (at the World’s), but he surfs really well. He wouldn’t be 20 yet. Owen Fairweather, he’s from Victoria. His surfing is so much better than any of us were at his age. I wasn’t even kneeboarding at his age - he’s 14, I think. He’s ripping, he’s going to be one to watch, for sure. His dad, Pete, has won the Phillip Island comp. In fact, he’s the only Vicco to win Phillip Island. That’s fine, but is there enough new blood entering the sport for it to continue as a competitive field? Yeah, there’s enough to keep it going. There’s not enough for it to reach new heights or anything like that, but they’re trickling. There’s probably just as many kneeboarders now as there were when I started out. So, what was it that drew you in to riding kneeboards in the first place? When I started, I was riding bodyboards and kneeboarding, but I went full cripple around the time I left school, when I was around 17 or 18. It was just … fun! I kind of liked the fact that it was different. Surfing Pipe all the time, it was just so suited to that, and just doing turns. I was riding dropknee before – you do a turn and the tail slides out and you go into a spinner. You do a turn on a kneeboard and it just holds the rail, you’re just down low and … you’re carving rather than just sliding. So, Chayne is a world champ who just wants to go surfing. With Wollongong the long-established centre of Australian kneeboarding, he surfs a lot with Albert, his World Title arch-nemesis. Some 16 years after their first meeting they seem to have worked out how to get through a session by dividing the available waves equably between themselves, but the contrast between freesurfing friendship and cut-throat competition is not lost on Chayne. Their friendship has been forged over years, through long hours at close quarters - travelling to comps, sleeping in cars, hunting waves together. When I pointed out that their friendship might be seen as unusual, Chayne agreed. No way that would happen with the standup guys. Their one and two are focused on contests all year, training and eating right. They have to, it’s their job. I couldn’t think of anything worse than a sponsor putting pressure on you, saying that you have to finish in the top ten this year or we’re going to cut your sponsorship money, that pressure must be insane. We don’t have to worry about that, we just go surfing. If the World Titles are on one year and we don’t want to go - like Spain (the last World Title two years ago) - we just don’t go. Just go surfing. You know, the odd person over in New Zealand actually looked at me funny like that. They’d see you going for a surf and they’d say, ‘Oh, you’re going to do some training for your heat’. I’d say, no, I’m just going surfing mate. Yeah, people are funny. The 2020 World’s contest, like many others, was marred by inconsistent surf. With a contest window of limited size, and a lot to get through - with age divisions as well as the big one, The Open - the organisers had a busy week. The Open Final came right at the end, but the best waves arrived much earlier in the week. The Final was easily the worst waves of the whole contest, through every age division, every heat. It was almost unsurfable. They waited until the very top of the tide. I mean, every surfer on the planet knows at the top of the tide it goes slack – no waves break. It was up against a concrete wall, so there was backwash through the whole line-up. It was one to two foot, it was choppy. There was only pretty much one good wave caught in the final, and that was my first wave. That was why I managed to keep him off, because after that first one there was stuff all. Chayne took that one scoring wave, and priority, and hung on. It’s not something I do, ever, but I’ve had those other finals where it was always my fault: something went wrong, I didn’t do something right and lost it. Well, I wasn’t going to lose this one, so it was about the last 8 minutes, and I had priority. I just sat half a metre away from him. Every time he paddled, I paddled. I don’t know that he could have caught any waves, but I knew they were going to be no good, and he was getting desperate and taking off on just anything. I managed to hold him right down to the wire. Neither of us got to perform, it was horrible. I did apologise. With about five minutes to go, I said I’m sorry about this mate, but I’ve got to do it. He was fine with it. He just laughed and said, ‘Yeah, it is what it is’, and I continued to block him. It might have meant more to him than me, maybe I shouldn’t have blocked him, but I don’t know, I don’t think he was going to get a wave anyway. They just didn’t come in. We talked briefly about money and the influence it has on surfing. Chayne likes the idea of surfing as amateur sport. People are in these competitions and everything, but they’re not that competitive. We’re not surfing for hundreds of thousands of dollars. So, why do the contest at all? Were you motivated by the titles you didn’t win previously? That was my full motivation. My motivation for going to the contest to start with … well, I actually wasn’t going to go, but Parkesy phoned me and said he’d appreciate it if I went. You know, as promotion for his boards and all that, so I went. I had pretty much no intention. When Albert asked me if I was going I was probably 90% not going, but once I was there, and once I got to the quarters, I thought, I’m not going to let another one go, I’ve got to get this one. And the lovely Mrs Simpson - what does the missus make of it? She just loves that I love it. She’s proud of me for winning the World Title, but she says to me all the time … I go away on these trips with Zion and Drag and we do these video clips and she always says ‘I don’t know why you go in the contests, you get way more enjoyment out of doing this’. She’d rather me not go in the contests, just go away with those guys, do the videos. She knows I’m not stressed about doing that stuff. I always have fun and in my eyes it does a whole lot more for kneeboarding than a contest win does. A lot of people said that to me while we were over there, that they really appreciate the clips that we put out, cos there’s no-one else doing that. I wish there was – I don’t want to watch myself surf! I’ve had quite a few messages on Instagram and Facebook from younger guys that are getting into it because of those clips. They’re not getting into it because they might win a contest. Particularly when you have a contest with the final held in unsurfable conditions. There was that one day where everybody turned up and it was offshore and barrelling. In my mind, that would be the time to have a contest. Just put everybody in the water and see who’s going to be the best. Yeah, it was cooking. That was the day they did all the age divisions. They didn’t do the Opens that day. The day after the final, on the way to the airport we went in and surfed that beach again and it was even better – it was fucking cooking! Me and Maukino and another young guy from New Zealand. They were keen to surf some swell as well, it was 10 out of 10 pumping. There was me, about 4 American kneeboarders and a bunch of local guys. The whole beach was cooking. So, if the final had been on that next day, and we’d had video, well that would have done wonders for competition kneeboarding. This year the South Africans kicked off a big campaign with a lot of big claims and were all out to win the Title, and they didn’t get it. They had some wins, but not the big one. How did they take that? The South Africans were great. They motivated me big time to go, actually. They were all online with the Saffa attack and they were going to take over and that fully motivated me to go over and not let ‘em win. But they’re really good blokes and they’re really good surfers. There’s three or four of those guys who are world class, and they’re good guys. Albert and I were in a heat with Lester (Sweetman) who was their main threat, it might have been round 5, and we knocked him out and I thought – he’s a really nice bloke, really chummy, wanted to have a chat, gives you props on your surfing and all that - but I thought when he got knocked out he was going to lose it, but he was fine. Came up and shook our hands, smile on his face - Great surfing with you - and off he went. And they’re all the same. Yeah, top blokes and if they keep doing these contests like they’re talking about, just keeping the ball rolling, one of those blokes is going to be at the top in no time. Chayne has an uncanny ability to thread his way through deep barrels and an explosive above the lip attack. Both are documented in a growing body of stills and video online via Legless.TV and longtime sponsors Zion and Drag. Chayne’s widely recognized by kneeboarders as one of a handful of surfers pushing the performance boundaries. His name is as familiar in kneeboarding as Simon Farrer or Peter Crawford. His win was popular. I need to mention that. The support we got from people I don’t even know, just random people stopping us to say that they wanted me to win, they needed me to win. That put a bit of pressure on, for sure! So is the pressure off, now you’ve won a World Title? It will take the pressure off in a way, but … I don’t know how I’m going to word this without offending people, but I don’t want another 50 year old to win the title. My motivation going into the next one is to make sure we don’t get someone old. You know, see some of the kids go through instead of those really old blokes. It’s great that your style of surfing has finally been recognized. Don’t get me wrong. Simon for instance: he’s a great surfer, but he doesn’t surf the way you do. He’s less progressive, more of a classical surfer. You’re different. Long barrels and then massive airs. That’s how I want people to know me, I want them to know me as the guy who’s in a barrel and comes out and does an air. I don’t want to just be a guy who’s got a World Title. Freesurfing, I wouldn’t have been happy with any of the waves I surfed in the contest, except for one in the teams challenge, I almost would have just went in and done something else for the day cause I just wasn’t surfing well. So being World Champion, does that do anything for you? Well, people have been coming up to me at the beach and congratulating me on winning the World Title, but it’s funny, having a kneeboarding world champ. Like, what does that even mean? It’s more embarrassing than anything. It’s a funny thing, competition. There are people around that I surf with, whose opinions about surfing mean something to me. I’m good mates with those people, and they’ve all congratulated me, and that feels good. They’re genuinely happy for me as well. There’s a few guys around who’ve been saying - ‘Oh, I thought you were world champ already, you know, I don’t see anyone else surfing like you surf.’ And that’s such a wanker comment, but that’s what’s been happening. At the moment, the guys I surf with are all pro surfers: Asher Pacey, Harry Bryant, Craig Anderson and all these big names. When those guys come up and say, ‘Fark, how was that turn,’ that’s … well[RH2] , having guys that shred in the surf, that you look up to, telling you that a wave that you got or a turn that you did was sick, yeah, that’s a better feeling for sure than a contest win.” Chayne’s back home in Wollongong and keen to get back on the road making videos with the crew from Zion wetsuits. He had surfed twice already the day we spoke and was pretty pumped. “The guys I travel and surf with, I don’t ever get the feeling that they’re like - why have we got this kneeboarder with us. They’re just stoked on what I’m doing, that I’m doing something different, they’re happy to tell me that I got a good wave, or did a good turn. When you’ve got people like Taj Burrow or Dane Reynolds commenting on your clip, that sort of blows my mind. That’s pretty big.” Words: Rob Harwood - Legless TV Images: Steen-16images, Richard Kotch, Others supplied by Chaye Gigs Celliers Courtesy of SAKneelos The Dream Run: Greg Holzman’s Island Life Some questions. Who are you, really? Where do you live? How do you make a living? What turns you on? What frightens you? What do you want from life and what would you sacrifice to get it? Write your answers down on a piece of paper and then, next to each answer, write down why. Take your time. Think about it. You might discover some surprising things about yourself. Lately we’ve been exchanging emails with Greg Holzman. If the name’s familiar it’s because he’s the subject of a few drool-provoking photos published here over the last year or more. We’ve known about him for a long time, primarily through shaper and Hawaiian legend Bud McCray, but Greg’s something of an enigma, staying out of sight and quietly doing his thing. A fisherman by trade, Greg’s thing involves finding the best, biggest and emptiest waves he can sensibly contemplate, and riding them with rare style and grace. Here at Legless.TV we reckon that qualifies Greg as a genuine underground hero, though we suspect he’d probably be reluctant to describe himself in such terms. We’re not about to enter the debate about the merits or otherwise of the whole concept of “underground”: our job is simply to record and present to the world what is. Greg’s based on Kauai, the outermost island of the Hawaiian chain. We started by asking Greg for a little biographical background. Oh yeah: that’s us in italics, everything else is Greg. My father’s family moved here before WWII, to Honolulu, but my dad met my mom in California, USA. I lived in La Jolla a few years and saw the Lis fish crew kneeboarding Big Rock and was sure that was the thing to do. Everyone on stand-ups was eating shit there and it was like a gladiator arena. Then I saw Greenough films in a movie theater in 71/72 - with the barrel shots. My Dad got me a G&S twin-fin fish and I brought it back to Hawaii when we moved to Kailua on Oahu. I remember it sucked, but it got me there. I was a kook for three years, from 12 to 15. I never did surf Big Rock, which was the goal when I started. But then in 1974, Local Motion opened the first surf shop in Kailua, and I was one of the first kneeboarders in there. They had a few nice 5’4” fish twins and I had some Christmas money. I bought a nice Robbie Burns (owner of Local Motion) shaped kneeboard. I took that board to Maui, where I went to 10th grade high school. I got kicked out for putting too much priority on surfing. I was devastated. I went to the school in the summer and begged them to take me back, but they said I wasn’t college material, which was true. I just loved the outer island life in the 70’s. Outer Island life in the mid-70s can be seen in surf films of the day: Fluid Drive, 5 Summer Stories, A sea For Yourself. If you were a kid watching those movies in a rented hall somewhere that wasn’t Hawaii, the images of hollow waves in clear, warm water, white sand with palms swaying gently in perpetual offshores was almost too much to bear. Greg was living it. It all really started when I was 15. I surfed Maalaea September 1974 and May 1975 with all the guys like Jeff Hakman, Reno Abillera, Sammy Hawk, Owl Chapman. It was like I was in a movie. Just the best swells ever, photos in all the magazines - historical stuff. That was my first real tube riding. I was 15 and I was in these big windy tunnels, trying to figure it out. There was no going back to “normal” pre-surf life after that. Later on I was scared out of my head some days at Specklesville and Hookipa Lanes. I would duck dive and the wave would just suck me back over as I was so light, but my Duck Feet fins just saved me time after time. I learned to love it, not fear it. By 17 I was in public high school – surfing, cutting class on Kona winds, riding Pipe and a place called North Beach on Kaneohe Marine base. We would sneak in early mornings and avoid the Military Police. Military Police? Really? Yeah. I became a master of deception. I got to know the kids on base and would take on their identity. While other surfers were getting busted, I was heading back to my friend’s house where the Mom would be super happy their kid had a friend off base. These kids were not popular at school! It all worked out and I became the kid that came into school at recess or lunch with wet hair and sandy feet and everyone wanted to know how the surf was. That’s where I learned to enjoy surfing by myself. It was cool, and I knew I was a lucky kid who had broken the code. I remember more than once being woken in period 6 by my history teacher all worried I wasn’t getting enough sleep at night, when it was actually I was up before dawn, on my bike through the back of the military range with a flashlight … and then riding to school for my 25 cent taco lunch and 5th and 6th period. I’m not sure how I graduated but I did. I became good friends with Buzzy Kerbox, as I was roommates with his girlfriend. We surfed the North Shore a lot through the winter of 78/79. He got me in the know with Pat Rawson, who shaped his boards. Pat made me a few boards and I surfed Pipeline a bunch with Buzzy. He was on a roll with big wins and it was an interesting time, but I knew it wasn’t going to last. The North Shore was getting very popular and my secret spot at Kaneohe Marine Base was now too risky to sneak on - I had turned 18 and could be arrested and thrown in jail. Something had to change. I got a newspaper, looking at outer island jobs, since I was thinking of going back to Maui. I saw a job for a cook on Kauai. I watched that ad change and the salary get better and then one day my friend and I were with our girlfriends and I just told him “I’m calling these guys up”. Our girlfriends thought we were kidding but the chefs were desperate. They said they would pay our way over to check it out. I was 19 and thought I’d just go for the ride. I ended up with a company truck and a condo and my first strike mission. Our girlfriends were just shocked! I told my mom after a month she would have to come to Kauai if she wanted to see me because I was staying for good. It was heaven - even the military base let us on, no sneaking - and the waves were epic. After a year I bought a Jeep and my life was as good as it gets. Everyone worked in the restaurants at night and surfed in the mornings. It was a big party. We all knew we were in the best place in the USA. Nobody wanted to expose it. Photos were not a thing, but a few came up from time to time and as the years have gone by, they’re now showing up. Then Hurricane Iwa came in November 1982. The last storm of the 1982 hurricane season, Iwa struck Kauai hard, with winds of up to 193 kmh, massive swells and storm surge. Hundreds were left homeless, schools were closed indefinitely and President Reagan declared the island a disaster area. Greg was living in a beach house and when the eye passed over, escaped to a friend’s house inland with just two boards and the clothes he was wearing. Everything changed after that. Many surfers became construction workers and many got serious about life and money. The age of innocent fun was being tested. Restaurants were closed for half a year. I tried the construction stuff, but I couldn’t work in the day. I had always worked nights and surfed days. It just felt wrong. A friend had a boat and took me fishing. First time out, we caught so many fish. In the morning we brought them in, got a slip in the butcher shop and then we went to the cashier at the grocery store and she gave us money … wow that was different! I was always giving her my money for food. I thought - this is something I can do on the ocean: work a few days and make as much as I normally do in two weeks … I got to get me a boat! I learned everything I could from this guy, who was a tough old fisherman: it was all in my plan that I was going to get my own boat! But things were tough and housing became an issue. I was homeless by 1983 but eventually I managed to find a house on the westside of Kauai. It was three bedrooms for $275 a month. So cheap! I got a roommate and life became pretty easy. I was fishing about 10 days a month and banking money while surfing the rest of the time. Life was cheap and the waves were good. I had decided I would get a boat and I was ready. My first boat was a disaster – a 50 ft wooden boat that had little chance of getting a slip in the harbor. I found a mooring I could lease in Nawilliwilli harbor and kept her there. March 1984, she sank trying to deal with a 24-day storm. I woke up to the Coast Guard saying my boat was on the rocks and I needed to get the fuel off before the tank ruptured and I was in real trouble. That was a lot of work, but lucky for me because that boat would have killed me if it hadn’t sunk. At $10,000 and a year of my dedication it was the school of hard knocks, but it made me learn what I needed to find and how much I was going to have to save to get it. It took me 5 years, but I finally bought a 26’ Radon hull from Santa Barbara Ca. - an all fiberglass trailerable boat I could leave at my house. I still have it. That boat has been my golden goose for 35 years. Although I’m presently not fishing a lot as I’m focused on surfing, I assume one day I will go again. It’s ready when I need it. With the purchase of his own boat, Greg became able to finetune the way he structured fishing around surfing. The state of Hawaii officially recognises 137 separate islands, but there are many more, many so small they’re not marked on charts. On one of these, Greg had found good waves … and he began to surf them. I wanted to surf and fish in areas of Hawaii few knew of, so I became a solo bottom fisherman. In Hawaii, that means mainly deep sea vertical long line fishing with targeted hooks in deep-water, anchoring in 400 to 1200 ft of water on deep drop offs and seamounts. I was good at this - surfing and this style of fishing help each other. I became familiar with every sea condition: I’ve been anchored and fished in water that was plain scary. Fishing certainly helped me understand the sea. Like all my endeavours, I took it to the limit. I became the best and it all came from my desire to surf an uncharted island, a place which I shared but never would photograph. Its Hawaiian name is Wai Uliuli or “blue blue water”. I lived for that and made my fishing an excuse to get to that place. It really only got good on high surf warnings, so it was not for the meek. I was often solo surfing or with a friend or single crew member. Mostly I surfed it alone, and it became a spiritual thing which made me comfortable in heavy water. This spot needs a specific swell direction to work well, and of course the right winds. It was always empty. One time the waves got so big I was forced to spend the night on the beach, digging a hole in the sand and using my board as a blanket. Luckily my crew was able to pull anchor and re-set in deeper water. The waves just rose so quick I couldn’t get back out to the boat. After that I was determined to bury water and supplies on the beach to make sure that if it happened again, I was going to be OK. I was sure to be prepared next time. I promised never to take photos or bring cameras and to this day, few exist from my trips. I was offered big money to get the shots, but I never wanted anything to do with exploiting a place I considered - and still do - sacred and holy. Many friends have been, but never a camera. Of course, this was all before iPhones. To Greg, the years from 1983 to 1992 were golden. Great boards, great waves, making a good living from the ocean, travel: he was living a dream life. Bud McCray was a big part of it. It was 1983 when I met Buddy McCray. My younger brother Pat was also a kneeboarder, following me into it. Pat lived on Oahu and he met Buddy in the surf. Buddy missed nothing and was quick to come over to Kauai that summer, and he brought a board for me. He recognized that I was willing to test anything, so he sent boards over and I would just give him feedback. His boards got better and better. Sometimes I didn’t like them, but he would tell me to keep trying and many times they did get better, but for me, I kept getting more into the basic no wing, no channel, short fish. I tried pins and squaretails, but it was the basic 5’6” flat bottom Vee that did it for me. In the early ‘80’s surfers were having issues with large waves. I was able to sit inside of them and often catch the sets, because they were constantly under-gunned, but my fins and low center of gravity allowed me in easy. Buddy had me sold pretty quickly on the four-fin set up and by ‘84 things were full tilt. Buddy came over to Kauai regularly the next few years and brought various kneeboarders with him, including Albert Whiteman and an 18-year-old Simon Farrer. Buddy had great timing and we just surfed so much! Every time he came the waves were good. In 1987 he decided to take Lee Pattison, Mike McGuire and myself to G-land. Buddy was well known in every corner of the world by then, but it was my first trip. Bobby Radiasa had been to Hawaii and stayed with Buddy, so we were treated very well. It was a special time to be there, as many know - that first trip was so eye-opening. Before that, I didn’t feel I needed to go anywhere, but after, I knew the best waves in the world were not in Hawaii: for consistent offshore long-period single swell events, it was all happening in Indonesia. Once again Buddy had sent me to the happiest place on earth, with three new boards and a surf camp owner who made sure we were taken care of. Anyone who was there will agree it was one of the best times in the history of surfing. Greg went back to G-land again for 6 weeks the following year. On his way home he stopped in at the Sari Club in Kuta, where he met Mary, a sweet Californian girl who also surfed – well, of course. Her trip home included a stopover in Hawaii, where Greg showed her around. They had a great time surfing big waves together. Thus began a union that eventually brought them three children. In 1989 Greg travelled to Jeffreys Bay with Buddy McCray, and in 1991 he went again, and found more than just waves. The waves reminded me of home - cold offshores in midwinter, storms hammering the coast and filtering down to a sweeping right: I loved South Africa. I found a plant group - Cycads - that fascinated me. I was lucky enough to be brought in by some great experts in the Cape, who also liked seashells, which I was collecting in Hawaii. With a bit of horse trading I was taught about these plants, taken into habitat a few years later as a research assistant for the National Botanical Garden and shown around the country by Nature Conservation officers. This began a 30-year love affair and the beginnings of my own Cycad nursery which today allows me to fund my surfing obsession. This wasn’t always the plan, but I also played a huge role in the study of many newly discovered Cycad species in Panama. I helped in collecting and working to help people better understand this important ancient plant family, the oldest continual seed-bearing plants on earth. Over 200 million years! Cycads live for hundreds of years and are extremely valuable. They’re threatened with extinction in South Africa from poaching. They are living art and I wanted to help by competing against the black market by growing Cycads from seeds I produced over 20 years: they grow 10 times faster in Hawaii. It may be the romantic idea of a 30-year-old dreamer, but I achieved a lot. Greg’s wife, Mary, had formerly been a competitive swimmer, so it was natural for their three kids to follow suit, at least for a while. Their eldest, Matthew, retained enough competitive drive from all those junior swim meets to become a pro body boarder, but there’s a fair bit of the old man in him. Matt loves to kneeboard when the surf isn’t crazy. He was charging huge
Pipe at 17 and got waves in contests that made me live another aspect of
surfing - that’s vicariously through your kids’ performance. Sean was less
competitive, not wanting to have to live in his brother’s shadow, so he became
an amazing diver who took on my love of the hunt. From boars to deep-dive
spear fishing, he was leading his peer group, so they both had few problems
fitting into this racially diverse island life. Greg’s daughter is now 15 and can surf, but her Dad reckons she’s become a bit of a landlubber and isn’t getting out in the water. He’s hoping that will change. After all, Greg had a period away from surfing himself not so long ago. He and Mary divorced in 2012, He had been feeling pretty jaded with the surf scene - jet skis and egos and social media, and by the 2013-14 season, Greg stopped surfing altogether - for the first time in his life. I quit cold turkey, Greg Noll style. I tried to play tennis for 2013/14 and just concentrated on my kids. Finally, I realized I hated competing. Tennis is usually a very competitive game, and I love watching and coaching competition, but after two seasons it was clear that tennis didn’t cut it in the adrenalin area. Times were changing in Kauai surfing again - times are always changing! By 2015, life was expensive and hard for young families, which got a lot of guys in that 30-something age having to work more. My life was getting cheaper and the kids didn’t need me as much, so I began to surf full time and fish less. The winter of 2015-16 was an amazing season which ended with a bang - double late West swells in April. Buddy had made me a board a year earlier and it worked amazing. The foam was different, but the board’s flex made it magic. I could feel that flex and the thinner board flew in 10ft plus Hawaiian power. I never looked back. When those West swells came in, I was surfing so well I just didn’t want it to end. Buddy made me two new boards and by May I was dying to try them out, so I headed to Kandui and quickly realized that this surf traveling was the greatest feeling of all. With the high-tech forecasts and Facebook etc … strike missions could become a lifestyle. Greg has seen a lot change in surfing over the span of his life. From starting out at a time when the introduction of legropes caused major schisms in surfing circles, he has witnessed the birth of professional surfing, the transformation of backyard businesses into international brands, the growth of surf tourism, the age of the sponsored free-surfer and the expansion of surfing into its various power-assisted and highly specialised genres and sub-genres. Just as the humble legrope unexpectedly brought about a fundamental shift in how and where we surf, new pressures and new technology have expanded the scope of surfing and changed how and where we surf yet again. We talked a little about the way things are now. The IT revolution, with the advent of smartphones, social media and instant global communication, has been felt world-wide - Kauai is no exception – and short of the collapse of western civilization, there’s no going back to a time before. The local Kauai policy of no photos, no publicity may have been enforceable in the 70s and 80s, but in the 21st century, exposure is inevitable, and it seems that’s especially so if it’s unwanted. Yes. The trouble today is that nothing happens without photographic evidence and pictures tell a thousand words. I’m less affected by this on the road, but I tend to be pretty quiet about my backyard. Though it affects me less now. I’m finding that the standard surfers’ taste in waves and priorities can rapidly change, especially if a few friends find it the place to be. Every year is different. Sandbars, swell direction, winds – they all seem to run in groups that will send surfers from one place to another, chasing the in-vogue spots of the moment. On Kauai we have serious issues with the use of jet skis during High Surf
events. It can be a real issue. Because of our round island, the swells can
wrap which - means a lot of the jet-skis end up tow surfing the same waves 50
paddle surfers are riding. An example is a place I surfed for 25 years without
a ski around. It’s much like Kirra, with a strong sweep, long walks up the
point and long paddles. Now I can’t surf there. It’s just too much a scene.
I’ve had waves that I was on and in the barrel and 100 yards down the beach a
jet-ski goes and U-turns to swing a guy in. Well, I have ridden right up to the
wall of water from their tow-in turn. Hitting water that fast inside big
barrels leads to bashings on my back on the bottom. Complete floggings. I have
never surfed there again with skis out. Don’t get me wrong. I love tow-ins in
the right big-wave situations. I have towed in on days surfers are not out on
outer reefs. That’s a different animal, but jet-skis and paddle surfing are not
compatible. It’s a complete change in vibe and the tow guys never get less
greedy, it’s always more, more, more. I’ve spent a long time campaigning for
issues in my surfing on Kauai. From military beach access after 9-11 to
Anti-Federal Marine Sanctuary expansions to advocating for jet-ski enforcement
in surf areas. The threats continue to grow. Part two coming soon. Words: Rob Harwood (legless.tv wordsmith) Images supplied by Greg |
