Went out at Ansteys about three months ago with my mate Leo. It was 4-6" and low, low tide. It was mean-ass evil surf with a wicked glint in its eye and I was not keen to get intimately acquainted with the rock shelf that kept baring its weedy teeth. But I went out - it was such a low tide I was able to walk all the way over the sandbank right to the edge of the impact zone, then I scratched to make it through the one lull in what seemed like an eternity. Sat there for about twenty wild minutes, scanning for rogue sets, of which there were plenty. You couldn't really tell when the next wave would come, peaks were shifting all over the show. I'll admit, I was shitting myself - it was a day of no wind, crystal clear water and heavy groundswell, the kind that can chew you up and spit you out without so much as a burp. Depth charges would go off from waves breaking five or six metres away and the spray would still come splashing down. Blow-outs everywhere. I saw a broken swimfin and the nose of a surfboard float past in the current. Yay. It was beautiful surf but I hadn't been out in big waves for over two years, so I figured if I could make it out I'd survive. I did, just. I had one wave, hollow enough to drive a Hiace through, and it reminded me that Bluff surf ain't no winky Durban slop. (That's not to say that town waves don't get fierce, they do. It's just that Bluff wave in general are more fiesty in all sizes) The lip landed on my legs and it was like a car had been dumped on me. I got the hell out and admired it from the safety of the beach. Might be crazy but I ain't stupid.

The force is strong with this one...