The Scott’s Head Loggerhead Malibu Comp finally rolled around and I was fizzing. Good swell all week, big easterly lines rolling in, and the bay looking as friendly as a labrador. Scott’s had a mountain of sand in it and was handling the swell like it had been training for the Olympics.
Rocked up a couple of days early and the crowd was already thick — every mug punter within 300km had decided this was the weekend to become a longboard hero. Still scored a few fun sessions before the comp kicked off.
Friday morning delivered a clean 3‑footer for the first heats. Over‑65s had 18 competitors, so three heats, only the winner straight into the final, second and third into the semis. My heat was stacked with blokes who surf like they were born on a log. Had a cracking heat, couldn’t snag first, but stoked to grab second and move into the semi.
The Semi — AKA “Follow Merc” Strategy
The semi was loaded with talent, including local club legend Merc. I figured I’d watch what he was doing — local knowledge is worth more than wax.
Just before the hooter, Merc casually paddles past everyone and parks himself 20 metres further out than the entire field. So I follow him like a lost duckling.
Hooter goes. Big set arrives. Merc gets the first wave. Second wave stands up beautifully — mine.
141 metres. Top speed 22 km/h. Yah bloody who.
Six waves in twenty minutes. Couldn’t have surfed better if you paid me. Came in grinning like a kid who’d found the Easter stash early.
Only controversy? Merc got a cheeky tow from the jet ski back to the point. Not illegal… but definitely “helpful”.
Results go up. Top three into the final. I thought I was a chance. Fourth. Bugger.
To get big points you’ve gotta be able to hang 5 or 10 — proper nose‑riding. The top three could do it all day. I’m still more of a “back half of the board” specialist. Still, seventh out of eighteen in that company? Happy days. And Merc won the final, which was brilliant for him and the club.
Six days at Scott’s flew by — surf, laughs, mates, and a perfect send‑off before pointing the nose west.
We had an added bonus of being able to catch up with Shell’s mum and sister Marie at Macksville as they were heading back to Evans after catching up with Tova – priceless.
The Port Macquarie Wheel‑Bearing Saga
One last hurdle before heading west: the 150k service in Port Macquarie. It was Shelly’s birthday, so the plan was simple — quick two‑hour service, nice dinner in town, easy.
Walked into Mid Coast 4WD and the place looked chaotic. Two mechanics had called in sick. The workshop is 5km from the CBD, so we decided to walk in, grab lunch, wander back — 10km round trip along the Kooloonbung Creek walk.
Dropped the car at 11:30, returned around 2pm, sat in the showroom expecting the car any minute.
Half an hour later the floor manager wanders past: “Can I help you?” Explained we were waiting. “Oh yep — was going to call you. The boys found your rear wheel bearings have 5mm of play. Strongly recommend replacing them. Car may not be safe to drive. What would you like to do?”
HUH?
We had no car. Camper still hooked up outside. Nothing set up. Shelly’s birthday dinner evaporating before our eyes.
Darren (the owner) was dealing with bigger issues, so we asked them to finish the service and rebook us for the next day. Got the car back around 4ish, dragged the Ulti to the campground, set up, collapsed. “Sorry Shelly… birthday dinner is now ‘whatever’s in the fridge’.”
Rebooked for another night — the park was packed, so I tried the old “Got a bit of an Apollo challenge” instead of using the “Houston, we have a problem” line. Unfortunately, they thought I meant Apollo caravans, not Apollo spacecraft. Took a minute, then we all had a good laugh.
Next morning: dropped the car off, walked back, feet getting sore, considered an Uber. No call. Rang at 2pm — bearings hadn’t arrived. Later we get the update: our 2019 Trailblazer apparently has a 2017 rear axle. Bearings delivered didn’t fit. New ones sourced from the next town. Double the price. Do we want to proceed? At this point… yes. Please. Just fix the bloody thing.
Booked another couple of nights.
Friday: decided to tackle the coastal walk — CBD to lighthouse, then through the burbs to the workshop. Eight kilometres of coves, then suburban wandering.
Car had all our clothes and a freezer full of food, so we needed it back.
Got to the lighthouse around 1pm, called them — bearings still not there. WT.
Started walking toward the workshop. Found a “shortcut” up a steep hill to the water tank… only to discover the track was closed. Back down. Onto main roads. Ended up walking on an 80km/h highway with no footpath. Sometimes my ideas are… ambitious.
Finally reached the workshop around 3pm. No guarantee it’d be done before the weekend. Sat in the showroom for another 2.5 hours. At 5:30pm they finally said, “All good to go.” To their credit, they stayed open until it was finished.
Price hurt. Feet hurt. Patience hurt. But better than losing wheel bearings halfway across the Nullarbor.
We clocked 16km walking that day.
And guess what – Shelly did a Park Run the next day – what a champion.
And with that… we were FINALLY ready to start our adventure around Australia.
Hang on — we’ve already been at it for six weeks.
I think I’m starting to understand the term ADVENTURE.
