Sydney’s nautical north

By SEAN HOURIGAN
IT’S six thirty in the morning. The sun splits the clouds and warms up the sand. The surfboat season couldn’t have asked for a better start.

I’m standing at Newport Beach on Sydney’s Northern Beaches watching groups of people from various surf clubs set up their team tents. You can tell it’s been a while for some: Palm Beach pops up their 20 foot bright green sponsor covered tent while Dee Why struggles to erect their 10 man tent, still muddy from last season. They settle for a 3 foot lean-to.

Eventually the shoreline is littered with tents, each representing one of the surf clubs found along the Northern Beaches. Teams begin to lug their boats from the car park to the sand. I’m convinced to help the North Narrabeen Surf Club with their boat and it’s a lot heavier than expected.

There is an old man dodging from tent to tent, each greeting him warmly. One of the North Narrabeen fillies (an under-23 woman rower) tells me he is, “Old man Sparrow, surfboat’s oldest and biggest supporter.”

Sparrow, or Mark Hazel as his birth certificate would have it, is short, thin and old. He wears a bucket hat, sports a short white beard and is, I’m told, often caught carrying a glass of rum and coke. To the younger rowers he is the old guy everybody knows. But he also holds the position of the Treasurer of the NSW Surf Rowers League and is a Surf Lifesaving Australia Official.

”It’s good to have a nice day to kick off the season,” he tells me. “It may not be the most popular sport in the world but it’s exciting,” Hazel says.

“The surf isn’t real big today but when it picks up it can get dangerous but that just adds to the excitement… Teams always have the option to wear helmets.”

You can tell Sparrow loves the sport. Every weekend during the season you’ll find him at a carnival anywhere across Australia to help host the day and marshal teams.

…

It’s seven thirty, the smell of salt in the air has woken everyone up and the beach is buzzing. The young male rowers, tanned and muscular, strut their stuff along the shore in budgie smugglers hoping for some admiring looks from the female rowers. I sit with a group of blokes in their forties waiting to race. They are wide awake, lively and laughing at inappropriate jokes considering the time of morning. The demonstrations of the younger men add another topic for them to laugh about.

One of the men, Brendan Reedy, stands out. His build has something to do with it, but not in the way you would think. He is a slim man, and is one of the few on the beach wearing a rash vest. The young men opt to show off their abs, while most of the older guys care little about how they look and spend most of the day in the shade to avoid the sun. The girls are quite happy to bounce around in bikinis.

Brendan is the rowing coach for the North Narrabeen girl’s team, as well as their ‘sweep’, which is the person who stands on the back of the boat steering. His nickname among the club is ‘the praying mantis’. It suits him well.

For such a slender man, however, he has accomplished much in surf boat rowing. He won an Australian title with the North Narrabeen men’s team in 2003 and is Boat Captain of the North Narrabeen Surf Club. He tells me that he rows for enjoyment.

“It’s actually a lot of fun,” he says, describing the rivalry between teams as “friendly… in good spirit.

“Whether you come first or last on the day, you have a good time and most of us older blokes head up the surf club for a few beers after.

“It keeps you fit too, which is a plus.”

…

The races continue until after lunchtime and while the North Narrabeen senior men finish last, the girls take out fourth place for the day, an encouraging sign for the first carnival of the season, they tell me, especially considering the hangovers the girls are obviously nursing from the night before.

One particular aspect has up until this point troubled me. I ask one of the girls why they give themselves a wedgie with their swimmers just before getting into the boat.

“It’s either that or chaffing,” she tells me. An unfortunate requirement for self-preservation.

“Yeah, it’s even worse when these old bludgers leave their ass hair on the seats!” Exclaims another of the girls. Again, the senior men just laugh as they help lug the boat back to the trailer. Despite their disapproval, the girls laugh too.