I didn't decide where I was gonna surf this morning till I got to the end of the driveway. South, the swell was perfect, wind ideal, tide not so much. North was further to drive but the swell, wind, and tide were primo. I swung it 180 and hammered up the freeway in the pre-dawn darkness.

The sun was rising as I pulled into the carpark. First people I see are Sam Jones and Ben Serrano who've travelled as far as I have but from the opposite direction, and Cabo who'd taken a leisurely drive from downtown Cronulla.

Out front it's pumping. The sets are missing Middles completely but it's a perfect direction and size for the Cape. Sam texts his Mum to say he's not going to school and before I can dish out a stern word on the importance of education he's down the rockshelf and out there.

Jeremy Wilmotte rocks up in his red girls-just-wanna-have-fun mobile, follows Sam out there and promptly goes mad. Benny and I take a bit more time. I haven't surfed Solander in a few years and I'm watching it closely. Since my last surf here I've had three kids and celebrated my 40th birthday. Doubts, I had a few.

Out the back Jeremy has shares in every set, as do two early morning lidders, one of whom nails an under the lip DK takeoff. Wild shit.

"It's as heavy as anywhere out here, eh?" says Ben. I'd forgotten just how intense Solander can be. Looking side on into the throaty ones you realise how lacking photos and videos are. The GoPro and drone revolutions have got a way to go replicating the viewing experience of these waves. Just like being there? Uh-uh...

Sam gets called into a bomb, pin drops from the lip and comes up wide-eyed. Two sets later he sticks one and he paddles out bug-eyed. Ben gets a few bombs and finds his groove. A few more crew join us: Ox McKinley, Matt Howe, Spud, a couple of Maroubra fellas, a couple more Cronulla fellas. Jeremy still has dibs on every set even though he's already lost one board to the rocks.

I opened the account with a smaller one then jag a grower with a 45 degree bend section. Like banking a Le Mans turn as the lip pitches - sweet. Over the next hour I catch maybe 10 waves, no big sets, but I'm batting with a 100% strike rate. No wipeouts.

Jeremy snaps his second board and swims into the rocks. Spud sticks a super late one.

Then I paddle for a mid-ranger, realise too late it's shifted under me and do Leaping Lenny's into the flats. The pounding isn't too bad but I'm right on the shelf as the next wave hits. It pushes me up against the rock wall and I look around to see I'm just feet away from a 10 foot face of basalt and barnacles. I look up to see a couple of bemused fellas craning their necks over the edge. The fuckers looked more bemused then concerned. 

The third wave rolls me along the base of the rocks and I scrape all over. I surface next to the rock wall again. The fourth wave does the same and there's no playing cool anymore, I'm fighting underwater and come up stroking hard for the channel.

There's no more waves, and there's no more surfing from me. Tail firmly between legs I paddle for the corner to dismount. Whitewash is pounding the ledge and the timing has to be spot on. I wash up on the back of a wave, exit without drama, and call it a draw.

As I walk along the rocks Jeremy Wilmotte is jumping off them again. Three boards in but definetely winning.

Dodgy iPhone videos taken afterward. Don't it just feel like you're there?

Spud

Benny Serrano on the rocks (he'd already taken one on the head before I started filming)

Spud takes a licking then unidentified gets a nice pit

Lidder gets a rare one at Middles then Taylor Barnes at the Cape