For those of you who don't know it, this is Sandpatch, now often called The Windfarm since the turbines went up quite a few years ago. This is where the hard-core surfers go. On the net it is described as 'empty' in relation to 'week crowds' and some of its delights are listed as the ubiquitous 'rips, undertows and sharks'. I have never seen any sharks, but people constantly relate stories of watching from the top as they circle and swim underneath surfers. More proof that they are well fed down here on the south coast.
In the summer the sand fills up the holes in the reef at the base of the cliff and even very mediocre surfers like moi can tackle it, in fact, it can be quite benign - but that seems to be a rare thing.
Again for those of you who don't know it and before you go and grab your board and paddle out, these photos were taken from the cliff, about 125 metres up (if you work out that there are 500 steps and each one is about 250 mm - so that's not counting the short descent to the beach/reef) Maybe now you can see why there are no surfers on these lovely peeling waves. They are much bigger than they look, they are full here and taking a longboard out is probably suicide for the likes of me. I don't think I have ever seen a longboard out there.
My own two attempts at braving this break were very short-lived. On the first I descended the 500 steps and my legs were double-jelly by the time I reached the bottom (from both fear and exertion). I summoned up the courage and paddled out - into a mountain! Luckily it was full, there was a very deep channel and only breaking in a particular predictable spot which I had observed. When I encountered the first real swell a bit further out it felt like I was paddling up and over a small building. I realised at that moment that I was literally and psychologically out of my depth. When I turned to look back at the shore, the limestone cliff towered above me and I felt very, very small and intimidated. My legs felt vulnerable dangling in shark infested waters and I instantly decided, I am out of here!Robin was with me of course and the decison was mutual. Luckily I had made a mental note of the white stone that someone had placed on the limestone reef, I figured it had been put there for a reason. It marked the place at which you needed to line yourself up to get in, a bit too far either way and you were thrown on the reef or back in the fast-flowing rip and out the back before you could make any bargains with your god to get you in.
On my second attempt I thought we had scored a better day, it was summer, there was sand where it should be and the waves were closer in. But I couldn't stay in position and ended up in one of those damn vortexes near the reef, trying to paddle out of a watery hole and getting nowhere. We both gave up - I decided to scramble out on the sharply pocked limestone reef and swore never to go back again. And I haven't - except to take photos........and drink beer from the safe position of the lookout.
