The hospitable wave had us right in, with a nice current to lead us right to the door. Photo: Warrick Mitchell
That Left
Part-way through the week, the swell dropped off, and the decision was made to get the bux party really going. A few of the boys had gone for an early hike, but those at the cabin opened the remaining bottles of whiskey and started the day off right with Irish coffees all-around. We thought that by the time the guys got back they would be welcomed with open-arms into a nice, warm cabin.
Little did we know that they had hiked all the way to the south end of the Bay to peer around the corner. They hitched a ride in the zodiac and to their amazement, even in the reduced swell, stumbled across a mini version of Skeleton Bay sucking around a pebblestone beach at the mouth of gushing fiord as it emptied into the ocean. The waves, although small, threw out an intense almost stationary barreling left due to the relentless, discharging valley feeding it day and night. The outward flow of water was intense and a lot colder as the water was predominantly fresh.
After their solo-session, the few that had gotten up early returned to a quiet cabin turned upside down. Whiskey and the woods combined into laughter and tears and the stories of the returning victors fell on deaf-ears.
The next morning, alarms woke the whole crew, and screenfinder shots of the previous day quickly washed off any hangover that may have wanted to settle: we emerged from the cabin to the biggest day of swell that we’d experienced yet. The zodiac was prepped and loaded to transport everyone around the corner to the funneling left that was discovered the day before.
Upon arrival, a massive bonfire was made and bags of abalone collected earlier were cut up and thrown onto the hot skillet with butter and lemon — a world-class breakfast fit for the world-class waves rifling off in front of us.
We didn’t need much more than a bonfire and the swells that came… aside from a little whiskey every now and again. Photo: Warrick Mitchell
It was like our own cold-water wavepool, the intensity of the current flowing out would give you a conveyor belt ride out to the lineup, which if you didn’t get off could sweep you a mile down the beach and out to sea. The counter current also meant that the waves were thick and intense which meant the beatings would add to the already brutal ice cream headaches of the fresh fiord waters. The boys would jump in the river, get swept through the lineup (hopefully when a set was coming) get barreled onto the sand and then warm up by the fire to watch the next guy get one.
The swell kept rising through the day to the point that it would almost be unlikely to get the zodiac back round the corner. The buck and his brother took the first trip back, circling wide of the cape through five-meter swells. We thought we’d have one last look at the rights we had been surfing all week, and as we reached closer we saw six to eight foot bombs running down the secluded point. “Why not one last surf with the best man and the buck to round off the trip?” I said to my brother. We jumped off the zodiac as Warrick circled back for the rest of the guys and ended up scoring perfect waves all afternoon to ourselves.
Our open bar was a little different from most bachelor parties. Photo: Warrick Mitchell
The next morning it was time to sadly leave with everyone agreeing it was the best bux party they’d ever been on, swearing all the same that they’d be back to the Bay. Choppering through the valleys among pumping waves, it was great to know there were and are still wild, untamed places like this — with clean water, incredible scenery, an abundance of food and wildlife, and waves going unridden 365 days a year. And it’s so close to our doorstep that many don’t realize how lucky we are; you book your yearly trip to Indo or Fiji and spend three times as much money for crowded waves and expensive hotels, rather than try something a little different. Give it a go and you might score as we did.
If you are looking for something a little different that you will never forget, give Warrick a call. He’ll lead you into the depths as he led us, making every step of the journey fun — the trip simply wouldn’t have been possible without him. Plus he’s an amazing hunter, fisherman, surfer, and frankly a bloody legend.
Forget the tired tropical locales. Search further. We’re damn glad we did. Photo: Warrick Mitchell
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