Scarborough Beach memories

by Gavin Woodward

Gavin Woodward is an expat West Aussie. He grew up in suburban Perth in the 1960s and is now a resident of Greece and likes to write about his adventures around Europe. His articles have been published in numerous international travel magazines.

Greg Woodward (1960-70s surf photographer/media writer). “My youngest brother Gavin and I were talking about the old days surfing at Scarbs and I suggested he write a blogg piece about those days. Which he did and which follows.”

Scarborough Beach Memories – Words by Gavin & photos by Greg Woodward.

Circa 1966

Extract “Hangin’ Five” – song by the Delltones

“ Well it’s early in the mornin‘ and it’s time to make a start.

And I put my poly surfboard on the rack upon my car.

I head down to the surfside where the waves are makin’ fine.

I’m gonna catch a mountain but I won’t go down the mine.

You gotta walk the plank, ride the hook,

Gonna let them ride and keep it nice and tight.

And now the time is growin’ near, you’re movin’ down the wall.

As steady as she goes, you got your toes upon the nose.

And now your’e hangin’ five, hangin’ five.

Hangin’ five toes-oes, upon the Malibu. “

It’s 5 am on a summer Sunday morning – Circa 1966 – when my brother Glen wakes me. He’s just got home from the Perth night clubs … and an after party. Heavily inebriated (pissed) he stumbles into the Sleep Out we share at the back of our family home in Salter Point, suburban Perth. Being three years younger I occupy the top bunk. A few minutes later he is snoring heavily on the bottom bunk, having stripped down to his jocks and fallen into bed.

1967 Glen (G2) Hanging Five toes on back lawn.

After just getting back to sleep – an hour later at 6 am – our older brother Greg wakes us by calling thru our window … ‘wakey, wakey boys, the surfs up’! Wearily we join him in Dad’s Austin A40, for the thirty-minute drive across town, to Scarborough beach.

1966 Dad’s Austin A40 Scarborough Beach car park.

In our suburban household the Woodward brothers are affectionately known as the three G’s … G1 – Gregwood, G2 – Glenwood and G3 – Gavwood

We arrive at a house three blocks back from the beachfront. G1’s long plank Malibu is kept under the verandah of some distant friend’s house. It is retrieved and pulled along on his home-made trolley. The car is left at the house … and the three G’S make the ten-minute walk to the magnificent white sandy beach, that is Scarborough … Perth’s premier surf spot.

1967 Scarborough Beach car park looking north towards Trigg Point.

It is now 6.45 am and the sun has risen behind us in the east. The Indian Ocean stretches out before us, into infinity over the horizon. Already many other surfers are in the water. There is a slight ‘offshore’ easterly breeze, which usually means we are in for a hot day. But at that hour it provides a cool invigorating feeling.

1968 Steve ‘Sheepdog’ Cockburn surfing Scarborough.

The surf is indeed ‘up’ with a two-metre wave providing ideal conditions. G1 goes first of course. He loves surfing and the adrenaline high it brings when that elusive wave is caught – slicing across the water and down it’s face. G2 falls asleep on his towel recovering from his huge night on the town … and just one hour’s sleep.

Being the youngest I have to wait my turn on the Malibu. I go for a swim in the shallows in anticipation … while G2 snores. I have always been an impatient person and this ‘ Surfing gig ‘ is proving to be a challenge.

After about an hour of watching and waiting, G1 emerges from the surf satisfied with his endeavours … and the number of waves caught. It’s not an easy sport to master this SURFING – but thru perseverance and ability he has done so. I am proud of my big brother, despite my frustrations.

As I leap up to grab the board, G2 wakes from his slumber, stretches and elbows me out of the way. It’s ‘his turn’ he says … being G2 and three years my elder. He is also much bigger at 16 than my slight 13-year-old frame. G1 agrees with this unfair family hierarchy, and so I am beached again for at least another hour.

At around 8 am I am now bloody hungry and bored. G1 has the loot and so I have to talk him into buying some breakfast from shops across the road, above the beach. He agrees and sends me to fetch the Chico Rolls. Chico Rolls – a very popular and interesting concoction – being a deep fried thick crisp dough … filled with veggies and beef. But no chicken despite the name. G1 eats two and I get one. That bloody hierarchy thing again!

1970 Scarborough beach front.

Being tired after his huge night on the town, G2 flags after about thirty minutes in the water, and only a few waves caught. Surely it’s now my turn on the Malibu and the adrenaline is pumping. G1 has other ideas though. He does a fast tag team with G2, all in quick succession … and heads back out for a few more waves.

The threat is always that the infamous ‘Fremantle Doctor’ – the prevailing sea breeze from the south-west – will come in and ruin the shape of the waves. The sea then becomes sloppy and unattractive for surfing. Sure enough G1’s six sense is right and this is what happens.

I am now wondering if this has all been pre-planned – a familial conspiracy against me – the annoying little brother. It’s not a cool look for groovy teenage Surfies to have their adolescent younger brother hanging around.

‘No point staying now guys, with the sea breeze in’ says G1. G2 agrees cos he wants to get home and back to bed. ‘Sorry Gav, maybe next week mate’ … says Big Bro.

And so the Three G’s head back to the Austin A40 – dragging the wet Malibu on it’s trolley – for the boring trip home.

Epilogue

G1 and G2 continued their surfing for many years. They brought smaller more shapely and faster boards from a local manufacturer – Cordingley Surfboards. The good old Malibu plank that had served them well, was put out to pasture. They said … ‘Cord boards were Lord boards’!

Maybe G3 should have persevered and sought out the old and trusted Malibu. He could have joined in all the fun his big brothers had. Instead, for many years thereafter he spent the long hot tedious summer days on cricket fields. Life’s full of regrets!

1971 Scarborough Beach activities

Footnote:

The above story is from my fading memory of events that occurred some sixty years ago – written with ‘Tongue in Cheek’ … and considerable embellishment! Ha Ha.

G3.