Warriewood Chapter 4 | Gone
Caleb despised taking the bus because he felt uncomfortable around other human beings. He preferred to walk home and daydream about the things he found in nature than deal with the incessant randomness of personalities.
Caleb despised taking the bus because he felt uncomfortable around other human beings. He preferred to walk home and daydream about the things he found in nature than deal with the incessant randomness of personalities.
There’s barely a break in development from Coolum to Cabarita. ‘It's going to look like California one day,’ says the driver. Concrete, industry, brick-veneer, shopping centres, roofs as far as the eye can see.
It was a typical summer Sunday at Warriewood Beach. The midday sun blazed down as the northerly airstream ripped across the surface of the ocean, anointing the air with the coolness of the sea.
It seemed he’d waited hours for this very moment. The man introduced himself as 'Nicko', he considered himself a local to the spot even after driving three hours to get here.
"He swung his board like an axe." This is how a reporter described the groundbreaking style of Australian surfer Nat Young. The year was 1966 and people were beginning to use shorter, lighter boards that made for more agile surfing, which this nineteen-year-old took to their upper limits.