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Torquay - The Little Surftown that Could

Surfersvillage Global Surf News, 6 July, 2009 : - - In the beginning, there was sand. And reeds, a creek mouth, yellow sandstone cliffs. Then came the graziers and the fishermen, toiling unremarkably. Gradually the holidaymakers trickled in. A handful arrived from Melbourne, surfed the beaches, left, and returned. They had ideas; they became the commercial pioneers, roaring through town on the adrenaline of chance. It worked, of course, and they hired and hired, outgrowing their bakeries and sheds, mothballing their genesis tales of borrowed money and sewing machines for later use.

They leant on the Shire, and the Shire leant on them; the roads were widened to accommodate them, and the community grew in unknowing response to the stimulus. Sheds became showrooms, all glass and pulsing colour for the masses. Gardens gave way to landscapes, instant to espresso.

Simple timber shacks sold at prices beyond reason, and the spruikers dropped all disguise, talking openly now of golf and lifestyle apartments off-the-plan. Retail, in the widest sense of the word, bought up the paddocks, disgorging cut price rubbish into cars whose occupants cared nothing for the beach. The little town was caught in a mammoth pincer between the industry that fed it and the relentless coastal creep of the cities. But it thrived under the pressure. From Point Impossible to Point Addis, the reefs and beaches may have been the catalyst for all this activity, but then, as now, Torquay is the product of a remarkable collection of people.

If you drive into Torquay from the west, at night, in the rain, you mightn’t think anything’s changed. As you crest the last rise on the Bellbrae Rd at Jan Juc, you come to the lights and it takes a moment or two to realise you’ve hit town. Up to that point, you’ve seen only paddocks and low, dense scrub. And even here, you could turn right, wander through the quiet streets of Jan Juc and loop back towards Bells, past Bird Rock, Steps and Boobs, and wonder what all the fuss is about.

But try the exercise in the other direction, from Geelong, and it’s an entirely different experience. There’s a brief respite from the hammering of suburbia as you leave Geelong on the Torquay Rd, around the time you cross the railway lines. On the fringes of Torquay, there's a strange blank paddock at the traffic lights where, rumour has it, Big Surf bought the land and installed sheep to protect the line of sight to their showrooms.

But the bush quickly gives way to a commercial feeding frenzy: lightboxes on tiltslab walls cramming the line of sight like a giant electrified forest. On a rainy night, the windscreen explodes in refracted colours. The lights recede again after you come down the hill past the footy ground, but either turn from there - left into Bell St and the original township, or right over the creek towards Jan Juc - takes you into a densely packed suburban landscape.

The town is still growing : photo Surfing World

The Sprawl
The Boston Rd bakery that housed the infant Rip Curl, the Pearl St and Pride St nurseries of Quiksilver; the little nuggets of cheap real estate just waiting for a fledgling business to rock the floorboards... they no longer exist. Even allowing for the economic pall that hangs over the land, the median house price in Torquay has broken through $450,000. The track to Bells is now a dodgem course for prams.

Things went seismic in the Torquay property market in 2000. Up to that point, simple family homes in the town were within reach of sales reps and schoolteachers. Now they've got to make other plans. One local real estate agent said last year “people who’ve been here their whole lives haven’t got a hope of getting into the home market. You can even see the change in the calibre of car – you don’t see shitboxes anymore.”

A large commuter population has moved in, busting its collective boiler to reap the benefits at both ends of the highway. As Bernard Salt, the demographer, once said “give Australians a chance to move to the beach and they’ll take it every time.” It’s an hour-and-a-half and 27 traffic lights from CBD to sea, and the much vaunted Geelong bypass makes the commute look even more achievable.

There's a perception around the place that all of this has been allowed to happen without any form of forward planning. The town has developed around three main “centres” - Gilbert St, Bell St, and Surf City. "But the planning’s terrible”, says one local. “There’s an industrial estate at the entrance to town!" “Shire bashing” is foremost in any conversation about change in Torquay, although another local trader points out that this might be a universal phenomenom: "Everyone’s pet hate is the council – it’s no different here. They’re doing a reasonable job: it's just that they’re community minded people, not business types."

Former Shire Councillor John Foss, who also serves on the Bells Beach Surfing Reserve Committee, can only agree. “There are plenty of examples of totally inappropriate development over the last 10 years – Crown Plaza, Torquay Central…the council’s let a lot a really bad planning get through, but they’re under all sorts of pressure from developers  who see the place as the ultimate golden egg.”

Also among the critics is Surfing Victoria's Max Wells, who has said that the “sea change phenomenon” tends to displace the very lifestyle that it seeks to capture. “There are councillors and former mayors here who don't acknowledge the town was built on surfing,” Wells said. “People move here and they complain about the sirens from the comps."

Much of the antipathy about planning and retail growth focussed around the application by McDonalds to put in a store in the late ‘90s. Surfers at the time slapped "Mac Off" stickers on their cars, though some of those same vehicles would now be idling in the drive-thru with a torn patch of adhesive where the sticker once was. Local craftsman John Ayton has maintained the rage ever since: "I reckon it was a done deal long before the protest even started. I don’t eat there, my kids don’t work there. The people here live active, healthy lives, and we all grew up in a surf culture. Why do we need McDonalds?”

Ayton believes that Macca’s presence has had a flow-on effect: “It’s like the way the eldest child takes all the shit from the parents and then the others get an easy run. The corporate stuff has started to follow them ...”

You can take this as a clear reference to the Torquay Central project, located on the site of the old primary school, featuring discount retail outlets such as Portmans and Just Jeans. John Foss saw the original proposal for Torquay Central, “and it looked nothing like what we ended up with.”

And Ayton's not alone - Torquay veteran Steve Perry told ASB magazine last year “It’s part of the continual destruction of Torquay that started with McDonald’s. This development is the kind of carbon copy retail you can get anywhere else in the country. We should be highlighting the unique qualities of the Torquay area that people have been coming to enjoy for years.”

The other side of the argument is put by Quiksilver’s Nigel Muscroft: “It’s probably going to bring more people into the town to go shopping… more people in the door, which generally equates to more sales.”

Whenever you pit local rumour against corporate confidentiality, there's going to be an edge of panic to the debate. One local told SW that a developer had bought the old Geelong airport site. "Grovedale’s coming to get us", he said, looking anxiously over his shoulder as though the burbs might suddenly flood over the hill like spilt beer. Celebrity footballers are said to have bought into the Zeally Bay development.

 There's talk that the Gunns family – yes, the Tamanian pulp milling Gunns - is behind the 3000 lot Spring Creek subdivision on the inland side of the highway at Jan Juc. Even adopting a conservative estimate of three occupants per home, it's big enough to double the size of the town. And then there's the appetite it creates for Harvey Norman, Bunnings, and where the hell's my fried chicken?

Some of this speculation might be right on the money. Some of it might be rubbish. But John Foss confirms the Shire received a record 2838 submissions about the project, which, on current plans, would include a large shopping centre on the corner where the Bells Beach Rd meets the Great Ocean Road. The closest accessible beach to the estate would be Bells, and no-one really knows what impact that would have. On the positive side, the Spring Creek development fight has galvanised locals in a way that hasn’t been seen since the McDonalds campaign.

Long considered a softer option behind the main beaches and the reefs, the tiny cove behind the headland at Fishoes has a life of its own. "The break at Fishoes has improved dramatically over the last 10 years or so,” says Jeff Sweeney. "I don’t know why. There’s sand in there now – the pole I used to dive off as a kid is now standing high and dry. It’d be a shame if they messed with the beach there.” And there's no doubt that it's getting the treatment.

The local Marine Rescue service and the fishing club will be the big winners out of the development of the area. And there's a dedicated set of spivs out there who are selling the town to an entirely different market - golfers. They can't see yellow cliffs or a grey blue ocean. All they dream of is rolling green fairways. It's not as alarming as it might sound - golf courses have always co-existed with great surf, such as at Kuai.

Russell Graham of Moonlight Laminating can see the funny side of it. "Construction, golf courses; it’s not just about surfers anymore. The only purchase these people make is an old mal for the living room wall. Seriously, a guy returned one to me the other day. Beautiful board, full of history… said his wife doesn’t like the red one. She wants a green one.”

Towns grow, but the waves remain the same : photo Surfing World

The lineup
In 1975, Phil Jarratt was able to photograph the entire Torquay surf industry having beers outside the Sovereign Hotel. The lineup amounted to maybe forty people. You couldn't take such a shot from space nowadays, and that's a positive for all of us. But every year, Torquay's population continues to build, and plenty of these people surf.

Crowds in the water at Torquay are, like anywhere, a function of conditions. When things are firing, half of Melbourne is onto it, thanks largely to the internet. According to Coastalwatch, water temperatures are warmer, and the epicentre of world wetsuit technology is just down the street. The cold is not as forbidding as it once was. When Winki's offering a chest high wall, recognition of your mates out there is nigh impossible. But once the swell gets solid, "guys come out of the woodwork,” says one local. "They paddle out and they’ve still got their number."

Bird Rock works a little differently, as you'd expect, given the takeoff is the size of a Torana bonnet. When a set rolls in, the effect is a little like an Aussie Rules zone defence - the tight cluster of bodies suddenly bursts open as players scramble for an opening. If Bells and Winki are public property, then Bird Rock is members only. And the members will have their way. Such is the level of performance along these reefs that a dropped takeoff is a rarity.

The extra heads in the water are not only Melbourne surfers on a short mission - many of those who've moved to town are encouraging their kids to take it up, according to Jeff Sweeney: "The ‘imports’ in town all want to see their kids surfing. They all join the Torquay boardriders, which has in turn changed the club; in the past it was feral - you’d join it to escape your parents. Now they’re all in it together. It gives them an instant network. My daughter’s 12, and we joined the club together."

Where Torquay has an edge over other urbanised surf towns is in the diversity of conditions. This is no Superbank: there's an even graduation from benign stuff for grommets, through to quality beachies and world-class reefs. Within an hour's drive are waves of real consequence. For at least half the year, the Torquay coast is highly consistent, lighting up under the constant nor’westerlies of a Victorian winter. If you've got the imagination, the space is still available.

The Craftsmen
When Rip Curl first hit mass production levels in 1970, Claw proudly noted that “we had women with sewing machines all over Torquay.” Back then, the town was also crammed with shapers, glassers and sanders, a frenzy of activity that drew no distinction between production, retail, and surfing itself.

The shape of the industry has, of course, changed radically. Access to Chinese labour and the expertise of Taiwan, Japan and other places has meant that the cottage industry in the back streets of the town is fading fast. That's everyone's issue, not just Torquay's. But there's very few towns whose reputation and modern prosperity have been so reliant on surf manufacturing.

"Shapers and glassers are definitely getting squeezed out," says a local trader. "The margins in that work have always been shithouse, and now the rents are up and they can’t sustain it. And yes, that goes to the core of the place." One retailer of imported boards told SW that there's been "a conscious decision by manufacturers over past 24 months or so to opt for Chinese boards. It’s too easy for them."

So renowned shapers are brought in who put together a set of design parameters that are then sent off to faraway lands. A few weeks and $20,000 later, a shipping crate arrives with your entire summer stock of boards.

The problem with this arrangement is that evolution stops when the design leaves town: no more bringing it back the next day with “ah, could you pull out the tail a little?” The designs are fixed and popped out by the dozen. It’s a point that worries Russell Graham from several perspectives: “Every few years I suppose they have to refresh the design by sending over some different ones – but how’s the evolution taken place here in the meantime if no-one’s left shaping? There’s no young people taking it up: my son Cory did it from 15 to 25, and now he’s stopped and he’s working for a big brand in dispatch. He’s dejected about it.”

Several of the old school shaping houses have struck back by refusing to repair the pop-outs. “It’s not a big thing,” says one shaper, “but we’re just not going to feed that market." There are probably only half a dozen shapers left in Torquay. It's likely, in fact, that there are more real estate agents than shapers. Those who are left are well over 40. What does that tell you about the future?

Russell Graham's Moonlight Laminating is a perfect example. A master craftsman who's lived and worked in the town for 33 years, Russell recently had a heart attack and quadruple bypass. And as soon as he was back on his feet, he started glassing again. Moonlight did up to 1000 boards per year for Rip Curl as recently as 2003. "Now it’s all gone (overseas)," he says. "They’re wanting to make more money out of boards, which is fair enough." Russell's response has been to "hone in on specialty stuff: channel bottoms and other custom designs." But he concedes that the custom market may only be plugging the gaps in business terms. "The loss of the massive customers reduces our buying power. So fins, plugs, blanks, all that stuff costs us more."

The effect flows downstream to his employees. "Guys are having to pick up work in several places. My sander now works for three or four different companies. Other guys, who’ve been in the industry 20 years, have just left. Given up. My airbrush guy’s down from three or four days a week to one. I do all the glassing myself now.”

John Ayton makes the point that "the guys who are hanging on are among the best in the world.” Greg Brown is foremost among them, but he's as worried as anyone: "People have lost the customised focus," he says. "Shaping machines have wrecked our industry.” Browny’s renowned Gash are still turning out custom boards at an impossibly fair price, drawing orders from all along the west coast of Victoria and beyond. He at least has the benefit of an international reputation to trade on.

But the new economy in Torquay is crammed with success stories. G-Boards, makers of squishy learners’ craft, are among the bright sparks who innovated to meet the change head on. Though they were initially perceived as a threat to the market for glass boards, there's acceptance now that the beginner surfer might spend a year on the soft board, before graduating to the real thing. Everyone's a winner. And the advent of soft boards has probably boosted wider demand for girls' brands like Roxy.

The opening of new industrial land on the outskirts of town has helped to bring rents down by making space available. Humble little Baines Court has been jam packed for years with administration and warehouse operations for Rip Curl, Quiksilver, Reef, Rojo, MC Surfboards, G-boards and South Coast Longboards, among others.

John Ayton remains positive about his pet project, Glide Fins. “I’m lucky because I’m into the creativity, not the money. I watch Ross (Clark Jones) surfing 50 foot waves on my fins, and I’ve got his life in my hands. I love that feeling.” But the mood isn’t universally buoyant. One old timer surveyed the pits and cracks in his hands and muttered "Surfers are slack bastards – we let these things happen to us.”

To read the full article and many more great features check out the latest issue of Surfing World

www.surfingworld.com.au

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