Phil and Paul in the back yard at Bonbeach around 1971

One of the advantages of our father working at G.M.H. was the opportunity to purchase a Holden fleet car with very low kilometres. These would come up almost yearly, and brother Phil, our banker, was always quick to make a purchase. On the sedan pictured, he even commissioned a black vinyl roof—a highly prized accessory back in the 70s. Boot space was a priority for Phil when he purchased a couple of Monaros later in the 70s. When the first-generation twin fins surfaced, he made a 4'11" board which just fitted perfectly in the boot.

Of the four surfboards displayed, there was one that was outstanding, and unfortunately, it wasn’t my blue full rounded square-tail. The chocolate one was 5'10" long and, for its time, featured a radical nose-to-tail concave and a chined rail that ran from the centre to the nose, which in turn resulted in a sharp rail from nose to tail. The bevel has a similar effect to a rail that’s rolled off the bottom, but it has to be surfed with more care. This board also had less nose lift and at the time was lightning fast, well-suited to Phil’s speed-demon approach with his feet set closer together than most other surfers. His stance was miles removed from the almost "poo stance" that became popular on the West Coast.

For me, there’s one very clear image of Phil surfing this board. It was a late Thursday afternoon session, 1971-ish, in solid 6 to 8-foot waves out the back at Sorrento (to this day, the best I have ever seen it firing). I had just come in, and glancing back at the ocean, saw Phil standing fully upright in this hideous barrel. It was so big and open there wasn’t even a hint of a crouch in his 6-foot frame. Ted, the Parkis, and Jeff Coker were all ripping it up, but the brother definitely had the wave of the day on that chocolate freak thing.

Ted and I slept in the carpark that night, watching the sun set over a magic sandbank and hoping for a repeat morning session. We awoke to a violent storm with rain pelting into the back of Ted’s wagon, soaking our sleeping bags before we even realised it. By daylight, those great waves were just a memory.