Old Mate

I have never lived in Noosa for more than three weeks but I've gazed at it's beaches and bays probably a couple of thousand times since first camping there in 1970. The place is like an old mate who's known me since I was a kid and has been there through many of my adventures. It's seen my transition from single fins to twin fins to thrusters; from fins that were glassed to fins that were removable; from snapped rubbery looking leg ropes to polyurethane ding savers. My old mate has seen me log slide on small days I wouldn't have touched in my youth.

Film cameras. Digital cameras. Super 8, video, HDV. Homemade underwater housings and "real" pro ones too. Learning to handle a sailing boat on my own in the river.

Sitting out the back at Tea Tree or Granite, I look around and it seems to be much the same as I always remember - no houses or skyscrapers, just a vista of bush and sand hills and sky.

And even if the surf is tiny or flat and empty or bigger and mega-crowded, it's always nice to reconnect with old mates, like Noosa.