From growing up in a housing commission on the coast to travelling the world as a pro surfer, Robbie Page's life has been one hell of a rollercoaster.

Robbie's fixation with the ocean began shortly after his parents split up. He moved to Wollongong with his mother, and found the endless size and challenge of the ocean alluring.

"I interpreted [that] God built the housing commission for me on the beach," Robbie says.

But Robbie didn't just want to learn surfing — he wanted to conquer the sea and become a pro surfer. He saw surfing as a martial art, and he aspired to unlock its knowledge and become a "waterman".

"I jumped on a surfboard and I was on fire. I didn't know where I was going, but me and that surfboard had something to do and we went and did it," Robbie says.

Becoming a Pipeline Master

Despite being ranked sixth in his Australian division, Robbie made the unlikely decision to pack his bags and try his luck overseas on the pro circuit at the age of 17.

"Anyone can be a pro surfer. If you've got money to pay your membership and you can fly to all the contests, you can compete," he says.

And compete he did. In 1984, Robbie reached out to a sponsor for financial support to compete overseas. His gamble paid off: while there was no World Pro Junior champion title at the time, he won two of the three events. Four years later, Robbie was Pipeline Masters champion.

"I was coming back as a sports star with a future that kept saying it was going to double each year. But I always came back to the housing commission, because it reminded me of what's true," he says.

While he thought it would ground him, Robbie struggled to readjust when he returned. He'd been exposed to fame and was frustrated his mother was removed from what life could offer. He looks back on photos now and realises his ego was part of the problem. That was compounded by a surfing movie he had appeared in called North Shore.

But Robbie's innocence was about to catch up with him.

"I ended up going through this difficult time and broke up with the sponsors, lost a lot of money. It put me in an emotional spin. I wasn't the most stable card in the deck to start with," he says.

Fall of a 'decadent sex machine'

In 1992, Robbie went through customs at a Japanese airport and was caught with multiple tabs of acid in a receipt paper.

"Bang — you're in jail. Your career's done. I'd say I was spiritually chosen for that one," he says.

He admits it was an era where a lot of surfers were, in his words, "high as a kite". He spent almost two months behind bars, half of that in solitary confinement. It was a dramatic fall from grace for the global surfing champion.

"You are cooked. You are going cold turkey. You have been a decadent sex machine, traveling the world with long hair. Now you are sitting in a box like a bird in a bird cage, crying like a miserable piece of shit," he recalls.

However, the process resulted in a new attitude that has defined his life since then.

"They say, at the moment of death the veil of superficiality melts away," he says.

"The sole purpose to life is to discover self. The best way known to discover self is solitary confinement. I came out not being on drugs, with a clear mind and heart."

He was barred from surfing for 18 months, his career was in tatters, and he'd never felt better. Robbie found work as a free surfer: filming and teaching other surfers, making expeditions.

"You either shrink or expand with what life throws at you — I want to expand," he says.

It was an outlook that led Robbie to, among other places, the home of former French president Francois Mitterrand. One day, at a surfing event, Robbie helped a stranger who introduced him to the then-president's granddaughter. The two went on to have a five-year relationship.

"I just lived there with them, simple," Robbie says.

"I had a good life, experienced what most people won't experience. It was amazing how I didn't think they lived very wealthy at all. I don't think they experienced the joys of life as much as I had already, travelling the world as a pro-surfer."

A wave is a mirror

Robbie now lives in Australia again, where he has traced his Indigenous roots to Dunghutti country, in Kempsey, northern NSW.

"Strong bloodline here, so I just wanted to live on the country, feel the vibe, live quietly. Hopefully encourage others to warm their heart up," he says.

Surfing is still a major part of his life, including the surf wax company he founded, called Cream.

"People go, 'I once was a surfer'. We say, 'If you once was a surfer, you never was,'" he says.

Robbie is back competing in surf events, including Indigenous competitions, which he believes empowers participants. His motivation to compete is to share his experiences with others and raise Indigenous cultural awareness.

"Surfing now is a political platform. Those [Indigenous] surfers I see as the spiritual lights of their communities," he says.

"I know they are because I know what size waves they've ridden. You don't go out there if your spirit hasn't prepared for it."

Despite his extraordinary experiences, his spirit continues to grow too.

"A wave is a mirror for you look into yourself. Whatever size wave you can ride is how big you can really look into yourself. That's why I ride water — spiritual growth."

//MIKE WILLIAMS

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