A Surfing Weekend at Seal Rocks

It was coming up to the weekend, the first one after Christmas 1964. Christmas was over at home and I was on holidays. I knew that my mate, Richard, would be at the Bay. Richard and I had spent time at the Bay together for many years, about 10 would be close, weekends, school holidays in the warmer months but not Christmas. Things were different now, a new level of independence prevailed, we were not boys anymore.

We had been best mates all through school but our paths were now separating. Richard had been working for five years, for his father in the little bake house at Aberdare. I for three years now at the steelworks in Newcastle but we were still the best of mates and the Bay was such good fun.

The little holiday house at the Bay, Nelson Bay that is, almost at Fly Point looked out directly across the Bay. It had been renovated from the Fisherman's shack that it was when Richard's father had bought it in the early 1950's. Painted, lined, new windows looking out over the Bay. It was a little bit of paradise and a magnet at holiday time. A weekend at the Bay was just the shot. We could surf Fingal or One Mile depending on the direction of the swell.

Richard was a keen surfer but I didn't own a surfboard. Richard had two, I used the old fibre glass covered balsa board, the one with the silhouette of the naked girl and Richard the new polyurethane one, much lighter and agile in the waves. Even though I didn't own a surfboard I had board racks on my old black 203 Peugeot, an old set that Richard had taken from his car, you just had to have a set of board racks.

I arrived at the Bay on Friday afternoon, there were lots of people there. The Weekender sure drew a crowd around Christmas, all Dick's mates, that Richard's father, and their wives, plenty of beer and sherry. Richard's latest girlfriend was there, but that was incidental to surfing. Richard was pleased as always to see me and soon suggested we go to Seal Rocks for the weekend, it was a bit crowded here and Seal Rocks was only a couple of hours up the highway.

By late afternoon we had the boards on the 203, sleeping bags, mine was always in the car, an esky with ice, a cooked chook, a loaf of bread, some Wheatbix, milk and a couple of tins of pineapple juice and we were ready to go.

Out to the highway at Raymond Terrace, Karuah, a stop for some tea at the servo and top up the petrol. Bulahdelah and it was already dark but another hour would see us in Seal Rocks. I had never been there but Richard had. We had to turn off just past Bulahdelah and take the Lakes Way, turn again at Bungwahl and take the notoriously rough gravel road into Seal Rocks.

The big straight the other side of Bulahdelah and we were motoring. A single head light appeared in the rear vision mirror, that meant only one thing. The Motorbike Cop from Bulahdelah had either seen or heard us go through town just a little too quickly. Slow down Lindsay but not too much. We are almost to the Lakes Way turnoff. I signaled my intent to turn right, hand waving out the window, no blinker lights on the old Pug. The Cop was still a way behind, he might just keep going up the Highway.

No such luck, the single head light came around onto the Lakes Way and was rapidly gaining. Up alongside me, "Pull over driver". The Policeman was soon at the window, "Driver, you have bald tyres on the back". Nothing about speeding, I was a bit puzzled, "bald tyres" I knew that was not true, they were almost new.

My tyres were Michelins, the new technology steel braced radial tyres. A friend from school who worked at the Cessnock Tyre Service had got them for me just a couple of months earlier. I remember the deal very well. Kevin had said "you know Lindsay we can get Michelins in and I can get them at a good price". In 1964 radial tyres were almost unheard of except for those motoring enthusiasts who read the Wheels magazine. I was a proud owner of a renown French marque, a Peugeot and Michelins, also made in France, that was for me.

Kevin ordered the Michelin X tyres and they arrived from France all wrapped in tape. No one had seen anything like it. Peugeots were pretty rare also even though the model that I owned was the very model that had won the first Redex Around Australia Rally. The Michelins were all floppy and soft in the side walls, with steel wire bracing the tread, they tended to bulge because of the soft side walls. No one knew anything about them and Kevin said everyone at the tyre service was amazed at them being fitted to the old black 203.

I was quite indignant at the Policeman and watched as he checked the tyres, then all around the car, asking where we were going and eventually said "On your way and by the way your tyres are half flat". We were on our way, winding up over the Bulahdelah Mountain, hairpin bends and quite steep, down the other side and eventually turn off to a dirt road with a sign "Seal Rocks 6 M" That's not bad only 6 mile to go.

It was pitch black, the headlights of the old 203 were only just and the road was even windier and rougher than anticipated. Up and down and pot holes you would not believe. "Bang" what was that! We decided that the sump had hit the ground in one of those big pot holes, what to do? Keep going, no good to stop here. We reached Seal Rocks or at least the first beach, "No1 Beach". We opened the esky and had some bread and chicken and bedded down for the night in the car. Peugeots were very versatile, the seats could be folded down flat to make a camping bed, not the most comfortable but a bed.

First light and we were up, there were reasonable waves off the rocky headland at the eastern end of 1st Beach and an hour or so was spent, Richard riding the waves, me chasing them, falling off and chasing the board. I had not really mastered surfing. The morning surf over, time to check out the next beach. Main Beach or Fisherman's Beach, just the other side of the headland.

We arrived and there were no waves to speak of, just a few fishermen standing around. A couple of sheets of galvanized iron lay on the grassy slope behind the sand with these large, I mean large, probably 1.5 m long, whitish grey, what turned out to be shark livers laid out on them. On the fence was a trophy of the morning, a set of shark jaws that would have gone clean over our bodies. The shark had been caught just that morning on the eastern side of the headland. And we had been surfing the waves off the western side of the headland.

"Must check out Treachery" said Richard and we caste a last glance at the jaws on the fence and we set off over a sandy bush track to "check out Treachery". I am not sure of the thought processes but we soon found ourselves heading out of Seal Rocks. Surfing here no longer seemed attractive.

The sump of the 203 was not damaged at all. A quick check revealed the very robust cast suspension mount across under the sump had taken the thump from the pothole Gravel lodged on the ribs as evidence. A Peugeot 203 had after all won the Redex trial over the roughest roads in Australia.

We travelled north, Port Macquarie beckoned, renowned for its surfing beaches. Richard and I had been to Port Macquarie 7 or 8 years earlier, before our surfing days with my family on holiday so we knew all about the good surfing beaches. We surfed Town Beach, had a look at Oxley and another surf at Flynn's. The surf was a bit disappointing, we decided that the surf must be better further up the coast. Coffs Harbour turned out to be a dud also, Angourie was our next destination.

We were approaching Grafton, but it was dark already, we'd had big day and were tired. Just pull up on the side of the highway, there was plenty of room to get well away from the road. Bedding down after consuming the last of the chicken, we would have to get more to eat tomorrow. Morning came and Richard reinforced that Angourie was our next surfing sport, just out from Yamba. It was all quite an adventure, neither of us had ventured this far from home before.

Heading out from Grafton, little townships along the river, just a few shops, a garage and so forth, Ulmarra I think. "Hey, that's my mate John". John was standing despondently, hands on hips on the footpath. A pale yellow VW with its rear bonnet up parked in the doorway of a Motor Garage. A quick U turn and we are discussing his troubles. A rocker bolt had come loose and the engine had developed a rather nasty rattle. All was under control though, the mechanic was fitting a tread insert and he would be able to continue his way to the Gold Coast.

Angourie was surfed, where to now. Not far to Byron Bay, renown for the break off the southern headland just under the lighthouse. What a surf, Richard rode the break, a left hander rolling away from the rocks and a good ride would take you half way down the beach. I spent the time chasing the old balsa board with the silhouette of the naked lady. I remember the board could ride the waves without me on it, and it did, half way down the beach. By the time I got to it and paddled out behind the break, all I could do was lie on it to recover.

We are this far now, not far to the Gold Coast, Coolangatta and Surfer's Paradise. It was too good to resist, by late afternoon Richard and I were walking along the main street of Coolangatta. "Lindsay, what are you doing here, I thought you were only going to Yamba." It was John, his car fixed and also walking among the bikini clad girls of the Gold Coast. Coolangatta Beach and the Cabbage Patch!

Another night on the camping bed in the 203 up behind Coolangatta Beach, an empty esky and over due to return from Seal Rocks. The next morning up bright and early, what else could one do sleeping in the car. There was no surf to speak of at Coolangatta so we headed south. 450 mile (700 km) and at least 10 hours driving. We arrived after dark on Monday night, I cannot remember where I slept that night or how we were greeted.

Many years later, at a party for Richard's 60th Birthday some reminiscing brought up this particular trip. Richard's wife Carol piped up "Yeah you might reminisce. I was left at the Bay with my future Mother in Law for the weekend, the very first time that I had ever met her."

Lindsay Threadgate

December 2013