It was mid-October 2005 (early spring in the great down-under) when I arrived at the dreary and sparsely populated campground in Torquay, Australia. A raw cold-spell, spawned from depths of Antarctica, was relentlessly throttling Victoria coast with rain, and here I was- plodding through puddles rapidly reconsidering this glorious solo-mission down the legendary Great Ocean Road.
After checking in with the campground host, I quickly pitched my cramped single-person tent and hunkered down in a less-than-substantial 40+ degree bag. Why I had ventured south when the rest of my friends had chosen a week of R&R in Bali, I truly couldn't remember.
After checking in with the campground host, I quickly pitched my cramped single-person tent and hunkered down in a less-than-substantial 40+ degree bag. Why I had ventured south when the rest of my friends had chosen a week of R&R in Bali, I truly couldn't remember.
Propping myself up on one elbow, I finished my third jelly sandwich of the day and downed a VB (the glories of being a penniless fool while studying abroad); neither of which gave me much comfort, especially since I didn't even have a pad to combat the debris scattered ground. I then wrapped my extremities with any dry clothing I could find, struggling to shake off the dull numbness.
After a few listless attempts at shut-eye, I clicked on my headlamp and pulled out the beat up Lonely Plant guide for entertainment. Checking the map I pinpointed my location in the sleepy sheep-town of Torquay and my apprehension began to ease. Just a few miles to the west was the next mornings destination: Bells Beach.
Why I was so excited to see this wave, I was unsure, but hearing the pounding surf off in the distance, I felt like there was something magical to behold around the corner.
I awoke slightly damp and mostly rested, pulled on my boots and rain jacket, and ventured out to investigate my transportation options. My hopes were quickly dashed after talking to the host. He explained how the public transportation options were minimal at this time of the year and that even if there were buses swinging through, Bells Beach was too far off the main road for anyone to bother running a regular route out there.
The prospects for someone to pick me up while hitching with my board, suit and pack were even more dismal so I rethought my strategy. Peeling on my 3/2 I decided to try my luck at the local Torquay break. Turns out this spot held another Australian point not to be scoffed at. The water here was substantially more frigid than what I had been enjoying on the gold coast- but the rollers were playful and I surfed until my feet were substantially frozen.
Making my way back up the grassy hill to the campground after the session I ran into a few families enjoying holiday- hanging out around their RV's with barbie's blazing. In traditional Aussie fashion the asked me what I was doing there (they had spotted me struggling to get settled the night before) and offered me a beer.
A few rounds later I had explained my goal of reaching Bells and the unforeseen difficulties I was experieincing.
Borrow one of our bikes, Mate! One of the ladies readily offered.
While my intention had always been to surf the spot my options were limited and this didn't sound like such a shabby proposal, so I mounted up. After a half-hour of plowing over lush green hills I found myself on the bluffs above the break. There she was, double-overhead set's pumping with hardly a dozen guys out.
I walked down the stairs hypnotically watching the pack methodically rip turns along the face of the wave. The energy was unmistakable. This is one of those unruly sections of coast that dishes up sheer perfection where it's least expected.
Seeing this video promoting the 50th anniversary of the Bells Beach contest rekindled many memories from my trip down Great Ocean Road: to Bells, Airey Inlet, Lorne, the 12 Apostles, Appolo Bay, hitchhiking to random beaches, hiking along the hills of Port Campbell, sharing pints in little local bars along the way.
The stoke in a wild place like this can certainly be experience on land almost as well as it can by sea, reminding me how I wouldn't have traded my soggy Great Ocean Road adventure for anything.
Have you been on a solo trip that sticks in you mind or seen a wave that you will have to revisit and actually surf?
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