A surf mission to Tairua at the base of the Coromandel Peninsula had me reflecting on the uncertain nature of our sport.
The surf spot cameras on the Internet are often misleading. The reports by their nature more general than specific. They lack the local Point of View that gives you the real, spot-specific lowdown. And one person’s head high is another person’s waist high. Or in Hawaii… That all said, the premonitions for our mission were all good based on the data we had.
When we arrived it was looking promising. Clean. Offshore. Good sets coming through. Uncrowded, with four peaks along the beach carrying at best six surfers each.
A local we ran into on the walkway after our first scope of the surf told us that 3 – 5’ is a better proposition than the 4 – 6’ on offer. I’d have to admit to being slightly sceptical on the size estimation. It didn’t seem that big, but in the end he was right. My excuse is that I was looking down on it from a height.
With a blown shoulder from four months of almost incessant surfing and medical investigations ongoing, I had nothing else to do to but get on the camera—the reason I’d tagged along in the first place.
My friend suited up and hit it by himself, joining five other surfers on the peak in the middle of the beach. I set up to record some of the action.
When you are the one taking photos or video of people surfing, and I’m not talking at competitions here, you come to realise a few things.
First. Generally, there aren’t that many good surfers out there. By that I mean, someone who can take off, go along a wave executing manoeuvres we all know, and pull out in a controlled fashion. Consistently. And when I say execute manoeuvres I don’t mean upside down re-entries, rail-grabbing cut backs, laybacks, or fin-popping snaps off the top. I mean just the basics of these. And forget about aerials. Of course there are the exceptions on a really good day when talented surfers turn out in droves. Or you’re at one of the top spots that tend to attract good surfers from all over. I’m talking generally here.
When you are shooting video, especially, this means a lot of wasted MBs on half-finished or poorly executed rides.
Second. Photos provide the opportunity to get a shot of someone’s radical positioning… likely before they fall off, are slammed by the lip or shut down by the barrel they were never going to make. Of course there are instances as we all know when it comes together and we make it, with style and more. Those are the memories we treasure.
The general maxim for surf photographers and videographers, though, is find yourself a good surfer/s and stick close to them to get good shots and footage.
And then there are the break’s personality traits to contend with, particularly at a beach break. If it isn’t firing because there are no banks, the tide’s completely wrong, the swell’s not coming from the right direction, it’s too big, or some other disrupting influence, then the surfers don’t have the ideal conditions to contend with, making it harder to surf it well. Which brings me back to the beach at Tairua. And the uncertainty.
On the face of it, it looked great. But there were no real banks. It was too big for the beach. The peaks were mostly moving around. The surfable waves few and far between. As so often happens at beach breaks, you had to be in exactly the right place, at the right time, and get just the right wave.
I spent about three hours shooting stills and video. In that time I saw about half a dozen waves that offered a good ride.
One person stood out. Don’t know who he was. But as is typical with good surfers, particularly with local knowledge—maybe was a local—he was finding himself in the right place at the right time more than anybody else. And he was surfing well. Saying that, in the hour or so I watched him and the others he was out with, he only had three good waves.
Even with all the indications of a great surf to be had, this time, as so often happens, the promise was greater than the reality.
ENDS
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