When we came across him, he was a thumb-wielding desperado hovering roadside at Rocky Point. He had short-cropped blonde hair and looked to be in his mid-twenties; just another young surfer chasing the North Shore dream it seemed.
On the North Shore’s Kam’ Highway, hitchhiking is still a fairly acceptable practice and conscious of honouring an elsewhere-tainted custom we decided to pull over.
He jumped in the back and huddled alongside our boards. “Where you going?” We asked. “Foodland,” came the response in an almost indecipherable mumble.
“Are you guys from like N.S.W or Victoria?” The voice was full of undulating inflections but the accent was definitely American. He began waffling incoherently about seeing Sally Fitzgibbons surfing a heat in the Sunset men’s event, which was on at the time. It was soon clear that our hitchhiking friend was off his head and his brain was currently like a pinball machine on multi-ball.
When asked where he was from he managed to offer a reasonable response. “I’m from The O.C. in California but I now reside here.”
“What’s your name?”
“Styles Martin.” Whether true or not I had to concede that was a pretty cool name.
Sensing the potential for an interesting response, I asked Styles what was the biggest he’d surfed Pipe. “Like 30 feet,” he replied with absolute self-assurance, even though nobody had ever really ridden 30 footers at Pipe. He went on to claim that he was sponsored by Dragon and Creatures of Leisure, but when I later searched their team rider lists, I could find no such surfer.
At least Styles had his heart in the right place when it came to the world title race. “I really want Mick to win. He’s like such a nice person,” he muttered as if he and Mick were close mates. In fact in his altered Styles was such a big fan of Australia that it seemed he was intent on eventually morphing into one. “I hope in like 20 years time my accent becomes Australian,” he enthused as we drove past Pipe.
When we eventually pulled up outside Foodland, Styles unleashed the desperation that he’d managed to suppress just long enough to get him to his destination. “Hey, I need dollars. Have you guys got dollars for like a Red Bull or a Monster,” he begged without a hint shame. I buried my hand in my pocket, pulled out a single, George Washington-stamped bill and sent Styles on his way.
Pipe is forecast to be third reef and maxing within the next week. Hopefully I’ll see Styles out there catching another ride.