I didn’t need to know about each wave containing 27 Olympic swimming pools of water, I didn’t need Chris Hemsworth on the channel, I didn’t need a completely wrong swell graphic, and I didn’t need some revisionist Shipstern history.
The thing is, the Cape Fear model is only going to work on a forecast running in the red, and it’s only going to work if the surfers have to be called into a room and write the word yes or no on a piece of paper and put it in a hat.
When it was eventually called on, the first few waves at Shippies didn’t exactly spark a fire in any of the vital organs. It looked 6 foot.
Cote and Wassell had to work hard to sell this thing, but while I wanna hear Cote and Wassell commentate most any other surf contest in the world, there was only one man whose commentary would have saved the day, and that was Ross Clarke-Jones.
I walked into Shippies with Rasta last year, who hadn’t been back there in 20 years.
Nate didn’t need to risk his neck today, not by his standards, although if the Tassie guys kidnap him and drag him into Hobart tonight he might need saving.
From the moment you touch down in Tassie and Marti Moose rents you a car at the airport to the minute you paddle out at Shippies and get called into a 6-foot closeout (with a 12-footer behind it) they wanna make sure you have an adventure.
At one stage they were pushing Red Bull to make a donation to a local green project (not sure where that ended up landing), but Tassie guys making up half the field was enough trade-off to get them over the line. And they’re good lads.
The first year Cape Fear ran at Solander (otherwise known as Ours), it was 4 foot.
The forecast had been promising, but nowhere near topping out, and this is where this whole Cape Fear thing gets twisted in knots.
We’d hiked into Shippies last year on a day this size and, apart from two surfers from Sydney, there wasn’t a living soul there–certainly not any of the local boys.
Read more here: Surfer Mag