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The 1800 kilometre trip to Kempsey, New South Wales, was reasonably uneventful except for a spectacular sunrise and a plague of grasshoppers that made a real mess of the front of the car. We arrived at our destination at 1:15 PM on Friday and after unloading the vehicle we made our way down to Crescent Head to check out the surf. I wouldn't say I was completely surprised to find the surf a reasonable size but utterly blown out by a very strong nor'easter. My guess was that at first light the next morning would be the best time to check it out again, and when we did we found the size of the swell had dropped dramatically but the onshore wind hadn't. I remembered the Mountain Man's words... 'There's a spot Ron, which always seems to attract swell like a magnet, even when it is fair dinkum flattazza tack everywhere else. And then there's Hungaries at the far end of a 20-kilometre dirt track, if the swell rolls in from the NE'.
Waiting for the Mountain Man
I noticed the Crescents caravan park directly opposite the break was chock-a-block full of people, and most of them were surfers, so even if the place was working there was going to be one hell of a crowd out there. We hung around for an hour or so as we were supposed to meet the Mountain Man there but eventually made our way back to Kempsey. I was sitting inside the cabin, trying to pass the time watching an old Bogart movie while waiting for the MM to turn up. The girl was outside with the dogs reading the morning paper when I heard her say 'You must be the Mountain Man!' and 'he's inside watching television'. This was the first time that I'd met the MM face to face and this is the girls description of him " He didn’t look like I imagined the Mountain Man – he’s at least as tall as I am, maybe 6 foot, curly red-blonde hair, blue eyes and very subdued in his movements". Quite frankly if you asked me what he looked like I would have said he was about the same size as me - 8 foot tall with blood shot eyes, a similar colour to mine. Anyway, he came in and sat down and we made ourselves known to each other over a cuppa or two. We talked about surfing in general and the possibilities of checking out this little known spot "Hungaries" that the MM had been talking about which only worked an hour or so on either side of the low tide. Eventually we decided to head on down and check out Crescent Head again to see if it had improved at all, and if the dirt track was navigable we would continue on and have a gander at MM's Hungaries. As it was, Crescents was still crap and the dirt road wasn't so bad with the 20-kilometre drive only taking about 10 minutes or so. When we reached the end of the road we found a small car park with about a half a dozen cars with board racks on top. MM and the girl walked up a steep hill that overlooked a long bay sweeping down to the southwest and it was decided that conditions were ok for a surf. As we made our way over the sand hills we were advised by a fellow surfer coming back along the sandy track that we should be careful, as there was a large black snake having a nap in the middle of it. It wasn't unusual that the girl saw another one in the same spot the day after and I reckon that in total we saw more wildlife on that 20 kilometre of dirt road than we saw in the rest of our 5000 kilometre trip. My first glimpse of Hungaries was when I walked over the final hill down to the beach and was confronted with a view that seemed to say 'Come surf me!' And that is exactly what we did.
Hungaries
The break or breaks consisted of a shifting peak/s with a long left and an unpredictable right, with the swell coming out of deep water making it almost impossible to position ones self just right I found this place fascinating, if not challenging. The Mountain Man being a goofyfooter preferred the left most of the time and got some very long rides right into the beach where he walked back up the shore and paddled back out with the slight rip alongside the point. It was an extraordinary thing that this break should be working at such a size when there was hardly anything working anywhere else. Also I was very surprised that there weren't more than a half a dozen other guys out, which meant we virtually had it to ourselves, considering their surfing prowess. Even with a strong northeasterly wind blowing which is onshore everywhere else on the east coast, here it was a slightly less severe cross-offshore, making the wave face stand up almost perfect. This little session lasted about three hours with some very memorable and much appreciated rides, thanks to the surfing knowledge of the Mountain Man. The only disappointment was that the girl had taken a number of photographs only to find out later that the teleconverter on the camera was faulty and none of the pics she took using it came out.
Myself, the girl and the Mountain Man
The
next morning we got a real early start as the temperature was going to be high
with almost zero wind early, with the nor'easters expected to come up later
in the day. When we arrived at Hungaries the Mountain Man was nowhere to be
seen. The only people around were some young guys in a 4WD parked on the shoreline.
When they emerged later, we recognised them as a couple of young guys that where
out yesterday and had spent the night here. The sea was extremely glassy and
a heavy fog was hugging the coastline while offshore we could see a large pod
of dolphins doing some early morning fishing in the surf. If I didn't know any
better I probably would've turned around and given surfing a big miss here today
as it looked like that nothing spectacular surfwise was going to happen. There
were a few swells coming through, just barely breaking a little outside and
rolling into the beach. So we sat there for an hour or so watching the dolphins
fishing which was quite impressive while we waited for the tide to drop and
the Mountain Man to turn up. At about 9 am we went back to the car, where we
were greeted by a bright "Good Morning!"
the Mountain Man had arrived after spending the night in his well setup vehicle
at a spot back down the track. We sat and chatted for a while, waiting for the
tide to go out a little further and when we thought it was right we made our
way down to the beach with our gear. It was no great surprise to find the swell
was now breaking out further and it even looked about a foot or so bigger than
it did the previous day.
Sunrise at Hungaries
The next day we drove up and found MM's car and camp site deserted until I looked up towards the top of the hill and saw this lone figure standing there checking out the surf. The swell was a similar size to the previous day and I let the girl go out first with MM while I stood on the beach trying to take some shots with the unbeknownst to me, malfunctioning camera with the crook converter. It turned out to be a real disappointment that they never turned out because the girl had a real good session, catching quite a few rides while the Mountain Man got a couple of absolute screamers on the left. I must say that MM was a real gentleman in the surf with the girl, giving her encouragement etc, even though she ended up getting kabonged in the shorebreak. She finally popped up with a contact lens missing although she was pretty sure she had her eyes closed underwater, so she gave it a miss after that. By the time I went out, a cross-onshore wind had come up and it started to get really choppy. I managed to put an hour or so in and get some reasonable rides but it just wasn't the same as the sessions I had the day before. Eventually we all ended back at MM's campsite and despite the numerous times we asked him if he wanted to share our cabin back at the caravan park he declined, preferring to sleep as near as possible to the surf. So we left him and headed home.
Waiting for the tide to drop
On our way back home along the dirt track we came around a bend and I noticed a small 2-3 foot wave breaking with perfect shape off a point. By now the weather had changed dramatically as the wind had changed from a nor'easter to a south-easterly and there was thunder and lightning in the air. We turned around and drove back another 6 kilometres to let MM know, being aware that he wouldn’t miss that one! He came back with us and went out by himself for another 30 minutes and got a couple of nice little rides before it started drizzling and getting overcast and dark. We finally left him there at his supposedly new campsite and said we'd see him there in the morning. The name of this spot was Big Hill.
Click here for Mountain Man's Big Hill
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Photographs by Sibylle Martens
© Ron Taylor & Sibylle Martens
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