Bad Waves and Good Times in Torquay

It's been pumping out there!

It's been pumping out there!

Words and Photos by Jimmicane

This trip has been pretty much what I originally pictured of coming to Bells for a WCT event, which is to say shit waves and lots of drinking. Last year we had the luxury of solid swell and a few days with good winds. Apparently, that ain't the norm and we lucked into some heavy drinking conditions on this year’s mission.

Now, don't think of me as a bitter complaining bastard, cause I ain't. I'm still having a "hell time," which Down Under means having a blast! The harder the waves suck, the better the pubs become.

East Coaster-wise, we are pretty thin. The Hobgoods didn't have the best of luck in their heats, both finishing last in =33rd. We could only conclude that Bells/Rincon (up the point from the Bells Bowl) is one of the worst rights in the world, only losing out to Cardiff Reef, and 13th Beach -- where the twins lost their Round 2 heats -- was even worse. Could not think of any particular lefts that compare in heinousity.

Oh and by the way, I officially don't count Kelly as an East Coaster any more because I'm pretty sure he doesn't consider himself one. I asked him when the last time he went to Florida was, and he couldn't remember. Sean Slater is a true East Coaster, Kelly is not.


CJ Hobgood hits the Torquay cafe circuit.

My boss Travis Ferre and I are staying in a cute little dungeon below team Surfline in the town of Jan Juc, which is a big-ass neighborhood where everyone having to do with the comp stays. We spend most of our time hanging out with Kolohe Andino and his filmer Noah Alani, with a couple visits from peeps like Reynolds, Dusty, and Dillon Perillo.

The funniest story so far would have to be when Owen Wright and Matt Wilkinson's filmer buddy named Jimmy the Rat got kicked out of the Torquay Pub for simply asking the bouncer if he could step outside for one minute to talk to Wilko, who was standing in line. The bouncer said, “Cool,” then completely dishonored his promise and barred Jimmy the Rat from re-entering.

Bad idea. Karma's a bitch.

Next thing we hear is that Jimmy went around back, urinated in a beer bottle, ran at the bouncer and completely drenched him with piss (as in pure urine, not alcohol), a good amount going right at his face. The Rat ran and got away clean. What a legend!

Jimmy the Rat (middle) in a Jordy and Shorty sandwich.

Jimmy the Rat (middle) in a Jordy and Shorty sandwich.

In other news, as I was walking out the door of a restaurant last night I see Charlie Smith (yes, the guy who Mick Fanning called a "f--king Jew") and he was with a few ladies. One of them, a hot blonde, asked if she could pay me to marry her. I'm not kidding. She wanted to become an American citizen and it costs $10,000 apparently. The loophole is that she could marry someone and get in for free. I'm still considering the offer.

Mock proposal.

Mock proposal.

Hopefully they get this comp done with in some decent waves. I'm ready to go to Melbourne and watch my good friend Taylor Wilson's boyfriend beat some ass in Aussie rules footy and get even more shit hammered.

Peace out.