Tuesday SpotCheck: The Jaws Rock Off
Ian Walsh breaks down surfing's heaviest rock off, which leads the author to break down... his most embarrassing surfing moment.
The footage above of Twiggy Baker getting in at Jaws in the recent run of swell recalled a conversation I had with Maui legend and Peahi pioneer Ian Walsh on the perils of the rock off at Jaws.
As usual, few break surfing down better than Walshy. It had me thinking of rock jumps and their unique part in surfing. Part practical, part ego, part courage. Get it right and the line-up is your oyster. A dry-haired paddle, a spot at the apex of the line-up and the smug satisfaction of getting one over your fellow surfers are the significant rewards.
And there’s the catch. Get it wrong, and you can risk life, limb and fibreglass, often in front of the packed line-up you are trying to best. The public humiliation is the salt that is rubbed into the very real wounds. I dug deep into the psyche of the rock jump in a piece on Stab Premium. You need to be a subscriber, but after the Bugle fee, it’s the best bang for your buck in surfing. Speaking of which…
In the piece, I recalled the height of my competitive career; The round of 64 of the Under 18 NSW State Scholastic Titles, effectively the High School Titles. I was doing my final year of school, then called the Higher School Certificate. My success in the regionals was due to most of the local area’s better surfers had elected not to pursue higher education. For the State round, the surf was maxing 6-8 foot South Avalon, a place I’d never surfed.
The paddle out was horrendous. The rock jump treacherous. The rounded boulders attract a community of diatoms; blue-green, and green algae, single-celled animals, bacteria and fungi. This is the slippery slime that makes jumping from one to the other like trying to ice skate in well-worn double pluggers. Despite the science, my competitors and I opted for the rock jump. In the first heat, I pushed aside all the sponsored pricks to get first in line for the jump and the inside position for the start of the heat. I’m not sure why I was so confident. After all, I’d driven down from Newcastle on my L’s with my mum Viv in “Rumpole” her two-door, 1100 cc Honda City Pro T.
Anyway, I duly went arse over tit on the slick-green rocks, cut my feet and knocked two of my glassed-in fins out of my six-channel, Ken McDonald-shaped Pacific Dreams swallow tail. I didn’t have a backup. And by that, I don’t mean on the beach, I mean at all. That was the only surfboard I owned. Amateur career over. That memory’s soundtrack is the laughter of my fellow competitors. The drive home took forever, though maybe that was because I had a maximum speed limit of 70 km/h.
At least my Avalon rock jump wasn’t videoed and then shared with the world. That's what happens now. The Insta page Lennox_Rocks has amassed 25K followers on the back of rock jump schadenfreude. And while we are piling in, a few more of the more painful rock off below.
Absolute gold Mondy, happy new year mate. P.s I think I was at that scholastic titles at Av, reserve pick behind Brett Herring! lol…