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The Indies Trader
continues its mission across the South
Pacific under the watchful guidance of
skipper John McGroder, aka, Captain
Bucket. John’s captained boats
throughout Indo and the Pacific with all
sorts of motley crew, mainly
surf-ravaged and women starved male
passengers, but this trip was
different... This time the passengers
were woman... This is his story...
The captain sat on the aft deck gazing
into the sea; a cold beer dampened the
passenger list as the trade wind
attempted to snatch it from his sight.
He was reminiscing like there was no
tomorrow. In 13 years at sea he had read
about all the superstitions associated
with boats. The day before the next
Crossing, one lingered in the back of
his mind - women on board were bad luck.
The last five years he had skippered
vessels in the pursuit of perfect surf.
The passengers were always blokes and
most of them could cop a bagging. He
slept under the stars that night. A
constellation known as the “seven
sisters” twinkled with mischievous
delight. |
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Lisa Andersen, Veronica Kay, Sofia
Mulonavich, Christiana Janssen, Caroline
Sarran, Jodie Smith and Danielle Beck
became lost in a two-week work
experience for Quiksilver’s Roxy team.
The two mystical photographers assigned
the task to bring home the shots are two
of the best: Don King and Jeff Hornbaker.
Besides going surfing, many other jobs
were expected. Ads had to be shot, with
modelling and the usual underwater
duckdive stuff. New bikinis, clothes,
jewellery and hats were swapped several
times a day. Moods should have
materialised, with bitching and
catfights and tall tales to tell the
blokes back home.
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The first surf was an ordinary
righthander that dishes up a bit of
swell but does not run for very long.
They loved it and attacked the wave like
they were at some Californian beachbreak.
Sofia charged from day one and Ando
commented on a future titleholder that
afternoon. The Champ was still hitting
the lip more vertical than anyone.
Christiana ended up becoming reefchecked
on her first surf. She shrugged,
admitted she was used to it, cleaned her
cuts up, and asked the Captain if there
was any resin to fix her board. It was
not till the end of the voyage that
Christiana let on she had only been
surfing for two years. |
There was not one bit of vanity in the
fashion shoots. Maybe the Captain and
the cook were too busy doing boat stuff
to notice it at these times. Jeff and
Don would whisk the girls away to a
white beach, green waterfall or blue
lagoon as a part of the program. If they
captured the shots, the payback would be
more surfing adventures down the track.
Different people remember different
aspects of a surf adventure. Especially
if one is experiencing it aboard a boat.
There is usually one surf, one incident
and one person that remain with you for
a very long time. When your job is to
take people surfing, after a few years
those experiences, people and surfs wash
into the mind’s whirlpool. Not so with
the Roxy girls.
The fishing tournament one afternoon set
the tone of excitement. Hornbaker took
Lisa and Veronica in the tinboat. The
rest trolled with the Indies Trader. The
tuna were going mad in various piles off
the back of the reef and it was not long
before we had a strike. Sue Brown, the
trip’s marine biologist, reeled in the
first one, a large bigeye. Then Claudia
Lebenthal, who was a magazine editor
from New York, landed her first fish -
another bigeye. Danielle scored the next
one then Sumanto, the deckhand, pulled
in another. The tinboat returned and
they had three fish. Everybody was
happy. Not many people had experienced
fishing like that before. It was all
over in the space of half an hour. |
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The following morning became a belt into
some rough seas. No one complained, no
one was sick. A small righthander was
surfed to wash the dust off from
travels.
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Reef Check was an important part of this
campaign. That is why Sue was sent
along. She works as a marine biologist
in Hawaii. She sat the girls down and
went through the paces of showing them
how to lay out 100m of tape across a
section of reef. Within about 20 feet
either side of this tape, and along its
length, the girls had to swim and
observe the marine life. Most surfers do
this all the time at the various marine
locations they travel to around the
globe. If they could be trained to note
their observations then they would all
be excellent participants in the Reef
Check program which is genuinely
attempting to collect data and help our
“rainforests of the sea” as the
coral reefs have been referred to.
Creatures noted were: clams, Christmas
tree worms, coral trout, butterfly fish,
sea urchins, parrotfish, damsels,
Moorish Idols and mushroom corals. |
Sofia and Caroline were allowed on the
Crossing if they came back with a few
stories for school. Reef Check was only
one part in their education; being
reefchecked, or scraped along the coral,
was another.
Claudia was
aboard to put together an article
for a female fitness magazine
based in New York. At one stage
they had Lisa and Veronica doing
push-up poses like they were on a
Rob Rowland-Smith training camp.
Claudia had to leave after a
couple of days. She realised a
different level of health is
reached in the daily routine
aboard boats, especially on the
Indies Trader. The girls all
surfed and stretched out of the
love for their chosen sport.
Pulling in 10kg bigeye tuna worked
the forearms, biceps and
shoulders. As did pulling a bucket
of seawater whilst underway. This
particular exercise also needed
dexterity to obtain a full bucket
so as to flush the toilet in one
go. Climbing up and down the sides
of the wheelhouse was exercise in
itself. The subtle movement of the
boat works the thighs, Zane’s
meals were always healthy, the sea
air feeds the lungs, and mad boat
dreams cleanse the mind. |
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This little lefthander that Lisa dubbed
“Murder She Wrote Reef” was just too
shallow and dangerous for the girls.
Both Don and Jeff pleaded with the
Captain to make the Crossing and avoid
scarring the photoshoot. Jodie, Sofia,
and Caroline all had a great little late
at this spot. Sofia grabbing rail inside
a three foot barrel in about one foot of
water. She had the biggest grin on her
face and claimed it as the best wave of
her life. She did pay a couple of dues
though and lime was applied to her flesh
to kill any small bacteria left over
from the coral.
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After 30 hours at sea, with the sun
beating down upon the steel deck, a swim
was needed. So the boat was stopped and
everyone went splashing in 3000m of
water. The blues at this depth are
indescribable. Our minuteness in the
offshore ocean causes an adrenalin-like
feeling of vulnerability. The boat was
buzzing after that swim in mid-ocean. |
Then there was the righthander. A
perfect reef/point setup. It breaks
about five times a year in the three to
six foot range, super clean and long
with plenty of barrel sections. The
locals were surprised to see the Indies
Trader off their break, especially as
she had kept to the less populated
sections of the island chain. They were
even more surprised to see seven girls
paddle out and begin surfing. Danielle
really came into her own this session.
She and Veronica are taller than the
other girls and both of them surfed a
lot better when the wave grew in grunt
and height. She caught wave after wave
this session. All the girls did. The
locals ended up being really cool (as
you would). Sofia went for some mad
takeoffs, and made them, and the final
wave of Lisa’s was a standup barrel
the whole length of the point. Everyone
was ecstatic and the photographers
scored some good shots. Zane the cook
and the Captain had been scrambling
around for waves for the last month and
this was the first real stuff since Indo
that they could sink their rails into
and hear the roar of tube time. The
anchorage was about as perfect a place
as anything in the universe. Life during
the next few days became magic.
A good surf session can bond a group of
people. The same with an ocean crossing.
The Roxettes had completed both within
two days. The vibe on the boat was now
more relaxed. The right disappeared the
following day, and word was out that it
had been breaking and that the Roxy
girls were in town, so the boat kept
moving to avoid the pack. Sometimes the
surf got up to eight foot. One
particular day, it had a bit of
sideshore to give it an ugly tinge.
Jodie, who is from Victoria and surfs
really well, got caught inside. Her
board was ripped from her hands while
she was trying to duckdive and it shot
into her mouth and punctured her gum.
She was a bit down that afternoon while
the others continued to surf, but to her
credit she bounced back the next day in
true Aussie style.
We had another magic session at a small
right peak one morning. No one was
around and the wave tubed every time
over the shallow coral. Every wave was
the same, and the girls had it all to
themselves. Caroline stood out this day.
It was France’s session. Lisa scored a
nice reefcheck to her back and bum and
was pretty sore for a couple of days.
The Captain was supposed to be filling
out the log each day for the Internet;
the catch being that locations were
meant to be a secret. The girls were
having such a good time on the boat that
the communications mysteriously went
down for a few days, much to the
frustration of the office jockeys and
Internet surfers. Surfing is a passion,
an escape from the rigmaroles of
routine. When routine becomes surfing,
then it’s time to turn off. The job
aboard was getting done. In some ways
overdone as all the girls were cut up.
The catch cry became the Roxy Horror
Picture Show. They kept changing
outfits, and chucking the old ones in a
corner. They were revelling in the salty
seawoman’s life. Then they hit the
12-day mark. For people not used to it,
that’s usually long enough. Moods
swing, idiosyncrasies develop, and it is
very easy to get on each other’s
nerves. |
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Three days remaining and the Indies
Trader had to meet a TV crew who would
become the scapegoats as the mood aboard
swayed like a landlubber. And what do
you expect when you are awoken with a
big camera poking in your face and some
fella asking you how you feel and your
eyes have just opened and are still
stinging from the sun of the previous
day. The Captain sensed the mood and
decided to take the TV crew to sea to
slow them down. Works every time. Again
the girls’ sense of duty prevailed and
they obliged with all the interviews and
fashion shoots etc.
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It began to get a little frustrating
with so many people on board trying to
get the girls to do this or do that. The
Captain and the cook kept out of it and
sat on the top deck, or went paddling.
Then a funny thing happened. Veronica,
Caroline and Christiana were in the
camera’s eye with the dinghy on
standby. Lisa was nursing some reef cuts
and Danielle, Sofia and Jodie grabbed
their boards and began the 300m paddle
to the break. The TV crew rushed for
their cameras, tripping over cables and
slipping on the deck. They went into
such a frenzy attempting to film these
girls going surfing. So this was the
essence they were after. Even with the
rain and the wind they instinctively
knew these girls were onto something
special and they wanted to portray it to
the whole world. We, as surfers, all
know this. At the end of the day some
things are best left to the memories.
Quiksilver, with its huge promotional
cogs, is still run by surfers. They are
not out to expose the surfing universe.
The Crossing is about trying to capture
an experience in a way like no one has
before. It will have its knockers,
supporters, lessons, discoveries,
photos, films, hassles and blissful
memories. Just like the Roxy trip did. |
The documentary apparently came out
really well and portrayed the girls’
lifestyle of pursuing waves with the
help of the Roxy label, which itself has
set the standard for promoting women as
surfer/models rather than models with
surfboards.
It could have been worse. The wind
fetches a long way in this part of the
South Pacific and the particular stretch
of ocean the Indies Trader was crossing
can become very nasty. Short, violent
seas that can knock a sturdy vessel
across her track in such an
uncomfortable way that the Roxy fashion
show would have been ripping the Captain
and Hornbaker’s eyes out; if they
could find the energy. Lady luck was
shining on the good ‘ol girl as she
chugged through one of the most pleasant
crossings in the short history of the
whole Quiksilver Crossing campaign.
The girls were all tired, sunburnt, cut,
rashed and pretty well surfed out. The
seven sisters had fallen out of the sky,
voyaged aboard the Indies Trader, then
disappeared over the horizon as a
tropical squall washed the decks in
preparation for another adventure.
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