The Whangamatā Bar offers a world-class left-hand break when it's working. Photo / Christopher Reive
The Whangamatā Bar offers a world-class left-hand break when it's working. Photo / Christopher Reive
New Zealand is spoilt for quality surf. In our surfing New Zealand series, Christopher Reive explores the breaks around the country and catches up with our Kiwi stars.
Our eyes met across a crowded car park.
On the hood of my yellow Nissan Wingroad, I sat scanning the swell alongthe white sand of Whangamatā Beach.
To the right, a crowd of about 30 board riders had nestled in front of the surf club. I had no intention of adding to that number.
Down the middle, two stand-up paddle-board riders were making the most of a modest swell. I, like many others it appeared, was not enticed by the inconsistent lines on offer.
With wax under my fingernails, I slung my board under my right arm and trudged past the agapanthus and spinifex decorating the rolling sand dunes and made my way out on the sand bar.
The title feature of the Whangamatā Bar, the sand bar runs roughly 50m into the ocean. From there, it's a leisurely paddle to the point of promise.
At the take-off point, the rolling lefts were few and far between. The lines were still apparent, but a lengthy downtime between sets well concealed from the eyes on the shoreline made an unwelcome appearance.
When the Whangamatā Bar is working, it's a world-class break. From the carpark it looked dreamy, but deception is a cruel beast. It definitely wasn't on today.
I wasn't the only one sucked in by the lie.
Sometimes you have to play the waiting game to reap the rewards of the Whangamatā Bar. Photo / Christopher Reive
"Things are a bit different than they looked from the carpark, eh," I overhear another surfer say to the rider next to him - making small talk during a lull isn't an unusual thing on the water.
About 20 of us sit patiently waiting for our turn to dance with the water, but the urgency doesn't interfere with the courtesy.
There is no sign of someone dropping in on another rider who has position on the inside, and an older rider yells to those sitting further into shore "you guys should be able to get this" as a small bump rolls underneath him.
Over an hour, I'm given two chances - though that number was in no way helped by me getting myself out of position on more than one occasion.
The first: a quick up-and-out. A good wave for my admittedly novice surfing ability with a little power and enough size, but it fizzles beneath my feet quickly.
The second: a much bigger set wave - which I squandered quite magnificently - leaving my feet as soon as I found them and watching the wave roll away after I emerge from the embrace of the sea.
Knackered, I gave up the chase and paddled to shore.
As if to add insult to my choice of break, the paddle in is a much more draining exercise. Stumbling across the fine white sand and up to the carpark, I glance back at the bar.
