By David Sparkes

I live on the Mid North Coast of NSW, at a place called: #@$$%####. I can’t name it because if I do, my fellow locals will burn my house down, and it’s a nice house. This week, Tom Curren, yeah that one, came to stay, and play, and surf. I gave him the run of my house, because he’s a good bloke, a great surfer, and because I was getting paid to shoot him. But I would have given him the run of it anyway; the money makes it a bonus, and means I can keep my house – for the time being.

We had some good waves, some windy waves, some crowded waves, some empty waves. This session was empty, which is often the case around here, but you can’t bank on it. Sometimes you’d swear it will be uncrowded on certain days, and wouldn’t ya know it – it’s packed. The crowded sessions were frustrating, because Tom is a cruiser and doesn’t really hassle. And that’s a good thing, it wouldn’t feel right to me if he did. He surfed my local like a local, well, better than a local when it comes down to it. It is a fine thing, I’ve got him frozen in time surfing waves near my home, and that will have significance for people around here down the track a bit. “Here’s Tom Curren at #$@@#$”, I’ll say years from now, proudly showing some kid a shot of Tom.

I asked him if he liked the area and he said, “yes”. Tom is not very verbose you know. Quite a few locals recognised him when we were checking the waves and stuff, and he happily posed for phone photos and said hello and hung out.

This sequence is just a teaser, there is some really sick stuff of him appearing in an upcoming issue of Tracks. For now though, here’s Tom Curren…