THE QUIKSILVER CROSSING CHANGES TACK.....see latest Captains Log.





























A Quik Crossing in French Polynesia
by Veronica Kay
WAHINE USA - July 2000


 

Spirit Vibrates deep within, pushing us to extremes, driving us forward. A desire to go beyond what we know, into unchartered waters, to explore the forces that surround us and that make the earth the watery-blue planet she is. We’re all fascinated by the ocean blue, but for surfers, this fascination is transformed into an intimacy.

We hire boats to take us out there, to see if we can sail maybe to the ends of the earth, like Columbus, or to its very core, where the waves are perfect. That’s the nature of “the Crossing.”

For some, getting on a boat feels like being trapped in a very small house for two weeks. But for others it’s relinquishing their power to the ocean, like finding the freedom of flight. Boarding the Indies Trader for my third Quiksilver Crossing is like meting up with an old friend; returning to the galley like stepping into old photographs of a favourite hangout, or going back to that spot where I used to go to share secrets.


The girls arrive, and everyone is in anticipation of what the next 16 days will bring. Will we get waves? Is it going to be big? How big? Will it be stormy? Am I going to get seasick? Just what are we going to do the whole time? For me it is extra special because, except for Lisa Andersen and I, it is the girls first time on the boat. Lisa and I fight again over who will get the bottom bunk, while we put the groms – Sofia Mulanovich, 16 from Peru, and Caroline Sarran, 15 from France, in one cabin. Jodie Smith, 19 of Australia, bunks with Roxy team manager Danielle Beck, who gets stuck with al the clothes and bathing suits; Christiana, 20 from Newport, USA, sleeps in the wheelhouse. With an amped renowned Australian behind the wheel, and another behind the stove, and three Indonesian deckhands, we’re off, adrift somewhere in French Polynesia with only a vague idea of where we were headed.

This fascination with the sea, its treasures, its memory as old as our planet, it’s adventure, its vastness its danger... Our pursuit of it is like space exploration, or a journey into the soul. I think of what it was like for ancient canoe people. What motivated them to venture away from their safe tropical paradise, toward a horizon they knew nothing about? Maybe its freedom, or gold, or adventure. Maybe it was for waves.


The Indies Trader is a vessel of our dreams. We get waves every single day, except during our 30-hour open ocean Crossing. There is one right in particular that we surf for three days straight: overhead, sometimes even bigger, secluded. We send out two, they come in and two more go out. We need to surf it in pairs, mirroring one another, because to surf it alone would be so surreal, we might convince ourselves that we have indeed reached the end of the earth. Seeing Lisa carve rail to rail on a perfect peeling left is reality check for me.

"There is only one wave that lets us down. Its grinding left that probably needs a bigger swell to be rideable, and Lisa is convinced one of us is going to get hurt. So we move on. She looks after us.

The rest of our journey is filled with waves that are just right – not too big, not too small, a perfect fit, each one different, but equally as good as the last. We explore without taking, meet without exploration, in a dream world. May this sleep last forever.


developed by