The same place Dad got me addicted. Photo: Chris Munro
This was the place I grew up surfing. The Pass was the yearly tradition in my family for as long as I can remember. They were the good old days, where my younger self and my sister would sit and watch Teen Titans before heading down for a surf at The Pass. We would get ice creams from the ice cream truck that ventured along the beach every day. My dad would have surfed already and was ready for another session with his young kids, both eager to learn the art themselves. I was especially keen.
These thoughts rushed through me as I reflected on the surf I just had with my dad some 10 years later. As I surfed the same wave where he taught me it felt surreal and special to be able to reflect on this. The crowd was full and I fought for absolutely perfect 1-3 foot sliders on my 9’1 Strapper longboard. The water was refreshingly warm and the unbelievable level of surfing was great to watch in between catching waves of my own. After a wave I would paddle past dad and we would talk about how good it was, forgetting about everything else. We were in a moment of euphoria and nothing in the world could dampen the fun. The rides were long and my legs were exhausted by the end of each wave, while the crowd hooted at fellow surfers on their way through. Everyone was in the perfect mood and the vibe was great.
When I got out of the water I watched the line-up in awe, hoping something would bring me back to this great town once again.
Photo: Chris Munro
