Surfing used to be such a ‘chick-magnet’ sport, regardless of where one lived.
From personal experience, an ‘Engelse boertjie from Bloem’ didn’t even have to know how to actually stand up on the thing. One just had to own a board.
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It also helped to know some of the lingo, like ‘hot dogging’ or ‘hanging 10’… ‘dude’.
Well, those phrases are probably a bit dated now, but they certainly worked for a few of us ‘plattelanders’ on a post matric tour of the South Coast nearly half a century ago.
Even better if one had a board designed by the great Max Wetteland, bought while holidaying with grandparents living in Durban. Max had a surf shop at No 50, Dr Pixley KaSeme (West) Street.
Pat Flanagan wrote a really ‘rad’ piece about Max in ZigZag Magazine when he died at the age of 76 in 2015. He is said to have started ‘hot dogging’ as a ‘more flamboyant form of wave riding in the 60s’.
OK, the local chicks weren’t that impressed, but the Vaalies certainly were, especially two we met at a dance ‘session’ in the Scottburgh Town Hall.
The next day, we convinced them to join us at Tweni beach, a little further south, where a friend was staying.
The surf was really ‘gnarly’ (dangerous), but nothing to stop big, brave Butthead from showing off on his own.
Paddling out through the surf was a cinch, but only thanks to a really strong rip, backwash… or whatever… which only became evident about a kilometre past ‘back-line’.
The problem was… paddling back in.
After about 30 minutes of getting nowhere and with aching arms, it was time to panic.
Alas, the universal call for HELP was merely met with a friendly wave back from the beach.
The adjacent rocks were the only escape route. Hello lifesavers, bye-bye chicks… and Max Wetteland.
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