bob mctavish : national park, noosa, 1967
National Park's status as a surf-riding break, then attempts
to explain/describe the complexities of the wave riding
experience by focusing on an individual wave, a "wave story,
The Wild and Wonderful Days of Noosa
part two : " National "
The Line Up, National Park.
Hawaii smells of Marlboro and rains.
Sydney is concrete and chop and scenes.
The North is Ultimate Summer in Technicolor.
It rains up here too.
The whole three have tubes though.
Noisy, slapping, dropping, non-stopping curls with cavities.
And there are mushers.
New Zealand's got them.
Cold, fun, friendly.
Mushers in Victoria.
Mushers in the North.
But what warm mushers, playthings.
Glass with ten o'clock nor-easters.
Of all the places Hawaii and North are the only patterned ones.
Hawaii's pattern is brief, hard, perfect, exhausting.
Shiver and temples pound.
Queensland's stoke makes you smile and go Aaagh!
The North has elevated at last from the "it's just like Rincon" stage.
Its personality has been established and recognised.
Smartest waves in the world.
They know it.
And share it.
The waves of National Park are the best thing I know in surfing.
Riding them is second best.
What is a National wave?
A series of incidents that add, tie up to a tale, a being.
One minute a pressure, then a cruise of ease, euphoria, next a calculas (sic, calculus), finally, always finally, a satisfaction.
One pure slice of existence.
Is-ness is appreciation of the whole deal, appreciation, grooving.
Is-ness is National Park.
As a set comes, indicated on the half mile reef, your temples pound.
Will I blow it?
Will I do justice to this beautiful thing?
It's one of the bigger sets.
Take off on the square perhaps.
The ledge is the safe bet, but the square is the extra thing.
Move out onto the square.
The set humps onto the quarter mile.
Never the first wave.
Second on a south swell, fourth or fifth on an East to North-East swell.
Pass up that one.
Stand up on the board and have a look.
The Third Wave.
It's lower on the take off, but will be hot in the middle.
Turn the thing, your pal, one stroke take off, stand up, have a look over your shoulder.
You've taken the right one.
Nothing bigger behind.
The sidewash off the ledge is moving across.
Keep it beneath you.
You'll need it as you get into the middle section.
Hit the suck.
Take it high.
Gain some speed out of it.
Cruise on into the beginning of the middle section.
Now the pressure.
The wall is ridiculous.
"Can I make it?"
There's the sidewash.
That little hump.
Jump over it.
Now it's getting too hot - Madness!
The curl is coming down too soon.
Lose some of that.
Drop as the curl brushes your shoulder, down.
God the speed!
Made that bit, now up over the flat piece, cruise into the next power pocket, that goddam curl again.
Over and over.
Keep coming, coming.
Pressure Pressure Pressure.
Made the bloody thing.
Cruise through the last mess, into the long easy, wise wall.
What a ball.
Even fit in a big cut back, off the bottom back into that curl.
Cruise, then the victory.
Jump out of it.
Just stand there.
Let the adrenalin drain out.
The temples have stopped pounding.
That paddle back out.
A snack, a sweat.
Could leave the water now, that little lifetime is over.
The whole thing is green, in motion, contradictive, fast, easy, pressure, release, just grooving.
The whole bundle.
Result: Satisfaction, Contribution, Elevation.
Peter Drouyn, National Park.
Bob McTavish: Sequence, National Park, 1967.
Bob McTavish : National Park
Volume 8 Number 6