Kat's Tale

The day dawned bright and clear, because, well, face it, it wasn't a dark and stormy night, and all stories have to start somewhere.
I left Tauranga with my dog-leg side trip to 'Where-the-***-is-Putaruru' en route to Aux all planned out, I'd slipped the piece of paper with Roy's address and phone number into my diary and off we beetled down the road. A nagging feeling caused me to pull over about 5 minutes drive later and check the contents of my diary. Boys and girls, always listen to your instincts. If I hadn't, I would have been looking for Roys house in 'Where-the-***-is-Putaruru' using the price list from my local Chinese takeaway store.

Meeting Roy and Emma was a lovely experience. My son and I were treated to a 'factory tour'; not a piece of plastic or any other ticky-tacky to be seen, no offensive pongy chemical-fumes to be sniffed, one could actually say the set-up was quite primitive...and one will, because it's the perfect word to sum up the birthplace of this board! Craftsmanship clearly runs in the jeans -oops, I mean genes - a fish being constructed by Roy's 11 year old son was well under way - I hear the lad is a bit of a speed demon ;o) and a clever dude, just like his dad!

If 13 Feet of Fury had been drilled through the middle at the halfway mark and loosely bolted to my car, it would have acted quite well as a helicopter-style propellor and got me to Aux in quarter of the time it eventually took me. The photos show how, errr, short, my car is.... Roy put all my fears at rest as he saw me off: "The cops won't know how long it is looking straight-on - it'll only be if they overtake you". Jeez Roy, I think I had Nifty 50 scooter overtake me on the road out of Tirau...my internal dialogue went something like: "Just get the damn board to Aux in one piece Kat, no pressure, breathe".....

Next stop, many, many, many hours later - Orewa. I had to surf. Yes, I repeat, I was at Orewa, intending to surf. Now stop laughing. Now I'm SURE I heard Roy say that this board liked its waves plus-two-foot, and I just happened to have another board with me that I could a) lift and b) surf. Oh and c) attach to my person with a springy bit of rubbery rope. The big scary potential child(and kook)-killer board stayed on top of the car. AdamJ did open the bag and have a peek to satisfy himself I wasn't transporting a hang-glider. One whiff of the linseed oil and he was convinced. Hang-gliders don't smell yummy like that, even if they are roughly the same length.

The passing of the torch happened later that evening. Father Ted wore the same 'head cocked to one side, trying to find just the right words' expression that I did when I saw it. "It's pretty big eh". (Master of understatement, our Father Ted). I wrote my confession onto the board bag in indelible ink - "yes, I'm a scaredy kat today, but I'll try again later!" Truth be told, I just could never have lived down being The One who surfed It, in Orewa. I think that's justified dismissal from Surfco, innit? "Oh well", says FT, "you may get a chance to have a go on it before you go back?". Not bloody likely, thinks me. Maybe I shouldn't have faked my disappointment quite so well....

Muriwai is on the West Coast. I am a kook. I have never surfed the West Coast, and I possibly never will again. "It's pretty mellow out there, maybe a bit small but we'll give it a go" says FT, now promoted to KING of understatement. Of course, I didn't know this at the time I said 'yes' to coming along. Mellow my bikini bottom. I took my own board out initially and basically spent my whole time using it as a shield from the 3-storied towers of Muriwai whitewater crashing down on my head in the front, where I was well and truly trapped.

Father Ted picked up The Beast with one hand and tucked it snugly under his arm, and with a wave and a "Cheerio" was out the back before I could say "You west coast surfers are a pack of freaks". I spent most of my photography time using the zoom to actually locate him out there. Apologies for the amateurish-ness of the pic/s, my survival instinct was slightly heightened at the time and I fear my hands might've been a little shaky... but he tamed The Beast and got a few good rides, and a sensational stall from doing the one thing Roy said not to do - noseride it. Never seen someone just simply...stop...on a wave like that. Elegant dismount too, by the way dude... ;o)

So FT comes in beaming and says "you should try it". I beamed back at him and said "you're fking kidding me aren't you?". But hey, I couldn't let the moment pass me by (again), the beach had no low-flying children on it, so I picked up The Beast with two hands and with one thigh for support I lurched towards the water. Classy. Paddling out on it was not an option. I led the board out, just far enough by my calculations to get a short ride for posterity, without risking that 13" fin and my life. So I was in up to my thighs, in other words. A wall of unfriendly looking Muriwai whitewater came charging at me and I thought "yep, this'll do, I'll just send myself in on this". Wrong. What I hadn't factored into my calculation was that spinning the fricking thing around 180 degrees to point it at the beach would take the equivalent length of time of two sets. When I finally got it pointed in the right direction I lay on it, and to be honest, that's when I fell in love with this board. It feels...alive. It's warm. It has a vibration to it; I'm not tripping here, boys and girls! When you ride it, you'll know.
A couple of paddles and up popped kat,

and off fell kat, repeat exercise x 3 or 4 or 9 or 10 attempts. I'm surprised FT managed to get any snaps of me standing before it bucked me off.

I swear, it IS alive. It's like trying to take an exuberant and very large puppy out for a walk - think Clifford the Big Red Dog with a single fin. Uncontrollable, youthful, playful. And always at the end of its leash, gagging to do more. I'm looking forward to the 'real' surfers out there giving 13 Feet of Fury the playtime it needs, and bringing it back my way tired and house-trained and ready to be nice to little kooky chicks like me. In the meantime I guess I'll have to keep playing on my plastic/pu toys out on the (east coast!!!) waves. Roy, not sure whether to curse the fact you've spoiled me and nothing else will do until I get my hands on one of your fish boards. What a revelationary experience that was. Thank you for this rare opportunity.