East Coast Expedition: The Town of 1770 in Agnes Water

Jan 23, 2011

I slept on the bus all night long until I arrived ten hours later to Agnes Water, a small coastal town located in a secluded, natural environment surrounded by beaches, coves and bays. I stopped in Agnes because a) it was the midway point between Airlie Beach and Rainbow Beach, my next destination, and b) Andy back at Travel Bugs in Sydney recommended it (although, by this point I was starting to question his veracity). The moment I hopped off the Greyhound bus I was greeted by a friendly Aussie who was there to take me to the hostel, which turned out to be a mere kangaroo hop down the road. During this brief transport, he said that he worked at a surf shop down the road and would be giving a three hour surf lesson at 10:00 that morning for only $17 bucks. What a bargain! I hadn't touched a surf board since surf camp back in October. It was time to give the whole surfing thing a go again, this time in the idyllic summer weather.

Agnes Water's Bustard Bay

I glanced at my watch; it was 9:45. I hopped out of the van, hurriedly checked into the hostel, threw my bags on a bunk bed, changed into my bathing suit and load on the sunscreen as quickly as I could. Then I pranced out the door and dashed up the road to Reef 2 Beach, the Agnes Water's surf shop and school. There were about 20 people congregated outside the place when I arrived. Phew, I made it just in time! The two surf instructors, T-Bone and Whitey (my chauffeur), instructed us to walk to the beach down the street where they would meet us with boards and wetsuit shirts. At the beach we gathered in a circle around T-Bone as he explained and semi-demonstrated how to surf. That lasted maybe 10 minutes. Then he told us to grab a board, get in the water and start surfing. I was surprised by how quickly his instructional "how to surf" lesson lasted. Had I not gone to surf camp previously, I don't think I would have had a single clue about what to do. Fortunately, I did go to camp and so I had at least a few cues of what to do. Still, camp had been months ago and so the question remained: would I be able to actually stand on a big 'ol surf board again?

The answer, I am thrilled to say, was YES. It was like riding a bike. Well, sort of. I don't take dozens of spills off a bike before I can finally get a good ride going. While I did tumble off the board here and there, I caught a bunch of good surfs which I rode all the way to the beach. What an exhilarating feeling. At one point I rode a wave ashore right next to an older surfer dude who was watching the lesson. "This isn't your first time, is it?" he said to me. My face lit up with a smile, while my insides erupted with joy. This meant I looked at least half way decent surfing, right? I instantly felt like a surfing pro, and I guess compared to most of the first timers around me who were flopping around helplessly like fish out of water that I looked like one too. This man had just said so. Boy was I was grateful that I had had a proper surf lesson prior. We continued to chat a bit on the beach, as I told him about my travels through Australia. His name was William, and he looked exactly how you would picture a beach bum: tanned and toned with blondish, ratty hair running down to his shoulders. He was a cool dude, and I enjoyed talking with him. Before I headed back into the water to continue surfing, he told me, "Make sure you smile when your on the board. You have a nice smile and you stand up more than most of them." I was flattered, not about the smile but about the "you stand up more than them" comment. My surfing confidence shot through the thin ozone layer above.

The surf lesson looked a little something like this.

By the time hour two rolled around I was starting to get frustrated. First off, there were way too many people in the water trying to learn how to surf at once. Flags marked off the small section that we were permitted to surf, which wasn't nearly large enough for 20 people to safely surf in without taking each other out. Thank goodness the boards were made of foam, otherwise I think I might have severed off several appendages in collisions with other wanna be surfers. Second, the ankle bracelet I wore to keep myself attached to the board kept getting tangled around my other leg. This made the kicking and standing part of surfing quite difficult. Third, I kept dipping the nose of the board under the water whenever a wave came which resulted in my body getting dumped into the ocean. I ingested a lot of salt water and was starting to get peeved. It seemed the more I tried to correct this problem, the worse I got. I will blame this on physical exhaustion. Regardless, I had a blast surfing. Considering I only paid $17 I got precisely what I paid for, and what I paid for was three fun hours surfing at a gorgeous beach in Australia. It was great.

I was exhausted when the surf lesson ended. I dragged my body back to the hostel and crashed for a bit. Then I did laundry, something I hadn't done in an embarrassingly long time. While hanging around the hostel, I met Richard, the hostel owner. He and I chatted for a bit in the common room. I told him that I was leaving the following morning to head south to Rainbow Beach. When he learned this he tried diligently to coerce me to stay there longer. He said that I needed to change my New York mentality of "Go, Go, Go" and stay and relax with nature. He even offered me a job at the hostel. I explained that my working visa had expired, which was of no concern to him. Richard said he would just pay me under the table. "I'll keep it in the back of my mind, " I told him. He replied, "No, no. Keep it in the front." I chuckled. Richard told me I needed to learn that I don't always have to be moving. And he was right, which was precisely why I moved to Australia in the first place: so that I could live the Australian life of leisure, as they say. He had no idea how slow my pace of life was now compared to back home. I had mastered the art of relaxation. And that's exactly how I spent my evening, relaxing with a book and talking with the two English girls sharing the hostel room with me. Again, they were so shocked that I was from New York. "I've never met anyone from New York before!" the one girl exclaimed. "You have to tell me all about." They were sweet, and I gladly answered any questions they had for me about life in the "concrete jungle where dreams are made of." Then I hit the hay. I had another early start the next morning, and I was eager to sleep in a real bed finally.