Gallery: Southern Escape

How's the saying go? 'It's not the destination, but the journey'

Well it was one hell of a journey flying into Hobart last weekend. One advantage, or in this case disadvantage, of meticulously following the weather is being aware of what's on the other side of a flight.

Be it thunderstorms, perfect clear weather, or as was happening, a 40-50 knot change roaring up Storm Bay right before landing.

The pilots made an announcement over the loudspeaker about thirty minutes before touchdown that winds were fresh (30-40km/h – 15-20kt), but this must have been old data, as the view out the window revealed windy white-caps and a very aggravated sea surface in an otherwise calm bay.

The aptly named Storm Bay

It was a turbulent descent, and right before crossing the dunes into the airport boundary, the plane thrust upwards as the pilot quickly powered up the engines. An aborted landing – bugger.

At this point I was worried about even touching down, with the chance of being diverted quite high, but thankfully on the second attempt, the pilot drove the plane down hard and fast, slamming the tarmac to the relief of many.

The journey had begun.

With a new addition to the clan due in the coming weeks and a favourable outlook for spots I've long forecast for but yet to sample, a short strike mission was set in motion late last week.

It wasn't going to be the biggest or best swell, but with relatively warm water and longer days to work around, along with a wag in the tail to prolong the swell episode, the decision was a fairly easy one.

There was no rush with the swell only due to fill in very late (if not overnight), but being a Sunday and an obvious significant event, every car park and dirt road was packed with cars and surfers from midday. These spots ain't no secret and the amount of people buzzing about was testament to that.

Novelty runners

I timed it late and got a couple of small, hollow runners with my brother into the evening, choosing one of the points that was less attended.

The next day was the pick with most having work commitments resulting in much mellower crowds which were needed with the inconsistency of the swell. Everyone loves a novelty spot and it's unique to be surfing so high up inside a protected inlet with land visible in all directions. While only small , the marquee spots are not for beginners with the waves breaking fast and hollow right onto the boulder-strewn points.

Into the following day, the swell clocked more east in direction, and along with more favourable winds the options were many, if not overwhelming. I focussed on one area and was rewarded with fun lefts in some of the most beautiful surrounds.

On a surf check between sessions, one exposed beach was copping the full brunt of the swell, with Puerto Escondido-like 8 foot sets detonating on extremely shallow banks. It was totally inaccessible, and also very lonely, as it usually is in Tasmania when you're surfing away from the main hubs. I could only dream what it'd be like at a more manageable 4-6 foot.

Alas, one final session was surfed on the left before pointing the van home. It's not easy chasing surf across Tasmania with lots of walking, driving, and effort for mostly novelty waves, but with wild, varying scenery along the way, a refreshing paddle to wash off the dust is a great little cherry on top.