Patagonia

Out of position for the first wave, I scramble toward the channel and race further out to spin and stroke frantically into the next. Racing down the line like a psychedelic dream, electric orange water droplets spray high into the air. I’m caught somewhere between reality and fantasy. Space and time slow down. My mind is suspended on a high, deeply focused on the wave’s texture and every ripple that passes by.

Kicking out and straight back into another ice cream headache. This repetitive dance between pleasure and pain continues till the sun is high in the sky, the day’s colours of contrasting blues take over. Familiar soft faces and cheering yeows fill the line up.

For tens of thousands of years, mornings just like this one have played out this same way on Wadawurrung Dja. This always was and always will be the land and sea Country of the Wadawurrung people who have cared for the water, shore, bushland and all living things.

The Southern Ocean is a rugged and treacherous zone that is ‘dominated’ in the media and industry by macho stories of men conquering extreme surf conditions on shortboards and big wave guns.

But after a decade of surfing these beautiful chilly waters, my experience has been very different from what you see in magazines and on Instagram — full of an array of smiling faces all connected by this beautiful sea Country.

My love affair with this wonderland isn’t unique. Further to the west other water-women have learnt to flow with the power of the Southern Ocean.

Linley Hurrell, Lilly Pollard and I decided to embark on an epic saltwater journey through the depths of winter, in search of adventure, remote waves and other saltwater women with salty smiles and seaweed in their hair.

From Torquay to Portland, we were inspired by cold water swim groups, mums who rip and grandmas that bodyboard every morning with seals, all embracing this daily ritual of riding waves in a healthy ocean. We learned how the Southern Ocean offers each of us something different, something life-changing and soul-warming.

From Traditional Owners, we learned the story of Koontapool (southern right whales) who return to their birthing grounds in calm blue bays — travelling up from the cold Southern and Antarctic Oceans, Koontapool uses the coast, waters and songlines to navigate to and through Gunditjmara Sea Country to feed and birth before continuing their journey. These families of baleen whales are the ancestors of the Gunditjmara people.

Throughout our journey of filming Great Ocean Love, a few things became clear.

Surfing is no longer ‘too cool’ for the average woman to engage in, nor is it just for the elite.

There has been so much taken, and it’s important that we give back. The best way to start is by listening to, and learning the knowledge shared by the true locals, the Traditional Owners, on how to care for the waterways and land.

We must protect what we love.

No threat to coastline and Country is greater than climate change. Now, more than ever, it’s critical that we keep all fossil fuels in the ground. This ocean isn’t just a playground for wave-riders or a salty home to thousands of marine creatures, some found nowhere else on earth — it’s also a deep basin of hydrocarbon that is well in the sights of the oil and gas industry. Hundreds of square kilometres of pristine ocean are being cut up and sold off to the highest bidder.

Our film Great Ocean Love toured the state of Victoria, acting as a vessel to gather community, celebrate the softer side of surfing, alert local ocean lovers to the looming mass industrialisation of this beautiful coastline and spread the word about smart, clean energy alternatives.

Since then, our salty community has rallied and paddled-out in our thousands, but the threat of seismic blasting and new gas drilling in the Southern Ocean still looms.

Watch Great Ocean Love and then take action.