Our good mate Alan "Wally" Tibballs is an elite sportsman in every sense of the word.

Before an illustrious career in the waves, he was a Victorian Pole Vaulting Champion and a very good country footballer for the Bonbeach F.C. with—I am told—a leap like Jesaulenko. Alan followed in his older brother Colin’s footsteps; Big Col was a very handy ruckman for Edithvale, and Alan played the same position in the U15s. For some reason, he switched clubs to Bonbeach in that very first year (even he doesn’t know why), narrowly missing out on the competition's Best and Fairest by just three votes despite only playing about ten games at each club. In later years, playing seniors, the two brothers teamed up for a couple of seasons at Bonbeach.

Even before Oke Surfboards started up opposite Edithvale Railway Station, the area had a very large group of keen surfers (the Grace brothers, the Turners, the O’Halloran brothers, and Terry "Jacko-yak" Jackson), many of whom helped to form The Suicide Savages. Col joined this group, but his board would often go missing as Alan sneaked off to ride the ripples in Port Phillip Bay.

Wally continued to juggle his love of surfing with footy until 1978, when he returned from the Margaret River Aussie Titles in May. He placed a very commendable 5th in the Open final and then played the remaining games of the season for the "Beaches." Another Peninsula footballer who loved to surf was Gary Colling from the Frankston Bombers (who went on to play 265 games for St Kilda). Alan’s growing notoriety as a Peninsula sports identity even led him to name his cat Wally Tibballs.

Alan’s passion for surfing saw him concoct all sorts of illnesses on building sites just to grab a ride with Phil and me as we headed to the coast. When he was laying the roofing iron on the Nylex Factory building beside the Frankston Freeway, it took very little to coax him down from two stories up. His excuse to the boss usually related to dramas with his ears—an affliction that later also helped him avoid National Service.

Alan was a radical goofy-footer with the ability to surf extremely vertically on his backhand, similar to both Wayne Lynch and Col Smith of North Narrabeen. In fact, as part of the 1976 Easter Bells Competition, he tied with Col for the "Most Radical Re-Entry" award. Added to that repertoire, he was also a big-time tube hunter, a seriously strong paddler, and could build speed like the Road Runner.

Wally Tibballs

Before Pumping Station was ever ridden, he would get very excited as we drove past it, but we always convinced him it wasn’t a rideable break—just a fast closeout onto a bunch of dodgy rocks (Boags Rocks). How wrong we were as the Kombi van passed on by to one of our favourite right-handers (OPS).

Lee Hudson of Point Leo recalls watching from the shoulder at Cape Schanck in 10-foot-plus surf as Alan took some huge drops on a very short board, then repeatedly and without hesitation headed straight back up the face for a big arc off the top. Legend has it that he rode a 4'11" Oke Twin Fin in waves up to 15 feet at the Schanck. He definitely had a "go-for-it" attitude, and taking risks has always been one step on the ladder to improvement.

While I was doing a two-year stint at Frankston Teachers College, Wally would pop in and we would hang out in the gym before a surf trip. His favourite apparatus was the Olympic-size trampoline. He was the only person I ever saw repeatedly touch the ceiling. Unfortunately, the last time he attempted this feat, he momentarily grabbed the steel rafter, causing him to return to Earth off-centre. He was cannonballed sideways some 15 to 20 meters, hitting the far wall in full flight. Phil and I watched like stunned mullets; it was an incredible performance from the "Rubberman," and one we will never forget. Alas, not a single bone was broken, and Wally stood straight up and said, "Right, let's go surfing!"

Clockwise from top left: Wally Tibballs, Darrell Brothwell, Tony Grace, Phil Lawrence, Colin Tibballs, Mick Pierce (1978 Vic Open Winner), Axel, Phil Grace, Mr X.

He was always good fun to head off to the coast with and lived only five minutes up the road, so I got to know his mum pretty well—but unfortunately, his gorgeous sister Gail not well enough. At Wally’s behest, I did take her to a Teachers College ball, only to be told she was getting back together with her ex. Thanks, Tibbs!

Our man Tibballs was always up for whatever adventure might come our way, and those early '70s produced plenty as we searched for new surf spots. For our trips into Quarantine, we were reduced to walking once our boat was destroyed in a storm while moored at Portsea.

Alan, Ted Bainbridge, and local surfer Jeff Coker were always keen to surf the Heads, but the army base was littered with personnel who took pleasure in making the journey a hazard with their unexploded bomb signs, barbed wire, and a rifle range set above Singers (now called Spooks). On our first walk-in, they actually unknowingly fired machine guns right over our heads. I guess that’s why the barbed wire and "NO TRESPASSING" signs were there.

We would sneak in via the back beach, climb up the cliffs, and search for the road to find an easier pathway to paradise. There would only be four to ten East Coast crew in the water, with an occasional visit from top West Coast surfer Ian "Ducky" Duckworth in his tinny from Queenscliff, surfing world-class waves. On many occasions we were caught and, after all those hard yards, bundled into the back of a truck and escorted off the barracks. What was notable was that Alan was always the last survivor. He would run like hell, diving fearlessly headfirst into the bushes with his board under his arm. The old sergeant would be screaming for him to surface, but Tibbs remained defiant—in his own way, a soldier to the end.

Alan loved to help and encourage young kids with their surfing. Long before the Trigger Bros Surf Groms, he was running local kids' events at Somers Creek where he was based for a few years. This was in the mid-seventies, and he even made the trophies himself.

One of Wally’s painful issues that he had to manage over a number of years was the worst case of sea ulcers I have ever seen on anyone’s feet. At times they were almost as big as a 10-cent piece on both feet, yet nothing would stop him from missing a good surf. I am sure wetsuit booties would have helped, but I could never convince him.

His go-for-it attitude paid off big time when he won the 1976 Quiksilver Trials at Bells. This event, currently replaced by the Rip Curl Trials, selects just one surfer from the hottest up-and-comers to gain a wildcard into the main event. From my vantage point, Alan literally murdered his opponents with sheer brilliance in perfect 6-to-8-foot Bells corduroy lines through the bowl. Even though he wasn’t on our team at the time, we were still very proud of his achievement, and there was definitely no luck involved. To put this great win in perspective, Garry Taylor is the only other Peninsula surfer to achieve such a feat.

Locally, Wally was dominating the Peninsula Boardriders Club competitions, winning in 1977, '79, and peaking in 1980 with a win that set him up in excellent form for a crack at the Victorian Open Titles once again at Bells—the annual event we all dreamed of winning. Just like in 1976, Alan produced a flawless display of vertical backhand surfing to make it easy for the judges to hand him the 1980 title.

Alan’s free surfing was of such a consistently high standard that he was able to compete at that elite level far more often than his opponents. He rarely fell, even when his board was well above his head, and these skills surfaced with additional outstanding performances in the late '70s—namely a 5th in the Open Men's at the 1978 Margaret River Australian Titles, followed by a 6th place in the 1980 South Australian Titles.

Following nigh on ten years of competitive surfing, Wally turned his passion to raising and supporting a family. He became that seldom-seen figure who could still absolutely rip it up, but would rather take his kids and others to the beach. As an accompanying parent supervisor, he never missed the Boneo Primary School excursions to Wilsons Promontory, where he could pass on his board-riding skills and ocean experience. I am proud to say he still rides a Trigger Bros surfboard, and though he and Ros are difficult to drag away from the music festivals they love, I will be keeping an eye on the Fingal lineup for a flashy surfer who is still in great shape.

Summing up, I would rate Alan as the best Victorian surfer outside of Wayne Lynch for the '70s period, and next to Garry Taylor, the second-best surfer ever to come from the East Coast. In my eyes, he sits comfortably in the top 10 of the all-time greatest Victorian surfers—which is not bad for a skinny kid from Edithvale who grew up with a love for riding waves on 10-foot mals, then followed the evolution of surfboard design through single fins, twinnies, and thrusters.

If he were a surfer of today's generation, he would surely be a high-flying, upside-down, inside-out aerialist.

Today, Alan lives quietly with his wife Ros at Cape Schanck. They have two daughters, Kim and Peta, plus a handful of grandchildren.