Todd Lookinland, Randolph Colosky, Matthew Beach, Stephen Hall, Scott Randall, Darren Hawthorn, Mark Thompson, Jamie Valance
Renoir, the artistic boat captain with a pronounced limp and sporting an eye patch, surveyed the assortment of weird and wonderful passengers that had partaken in this latest salty sea saga. He shook his head, strained a neck muscle and had to ask his off-sider, Little Belle Peep to massage the old injury; a legacy of his yak herding days in the high mountains of Peru.
Running a surf charter boat was a bit like yak herding, he thought while blowing the horn in an attempt to gather the passengers back to the boat and weigh anchor. Thommo (baa!), the lone sheep of the herd, would not get out of the water. One last wave was all he wanted. His mates, Dazza and Rooster heckled him from the newly renovated lizard Lounge on the top deck of the Barrenjoey. Captain America who lives in Australia joined the Aussies in bagging the kiwi (baa!). After all, he'd been around enough of the uncouth barbarians and reckoned he knew a thing or two about them. Vegemite, beer, and bagging was what made them tick. The other Americans, The Mad Hatter, Clark Kent, and the Duganaut still, after 10 days, did not have a clue to what these Southern Hemisphere boys were saying. "I didn't come here to learn another language," commented Clark Kent as the boys babbled incessantly between the perfect lefthanders.
Back in the Lizard Lounge, Wasabi sat in yoda-esque silence, a sly grin lighting up his sunburnt noggin. His surfing had taken on new meaning by the end of the voyage. Some would say it had proceeded in leaps and bounds. He reckoned it was more like leaps and bounces. He had stashed the mal by day 4 and by day 10 was pulling into everything. At 48, was the born again grommet.
Renoir was attempting to paint a picture as Thommo (baa!) was lagging behind waiting for that elusive set wave. Little Belle Peep threw his paintbrush overboard and told him to keep his two minds on the job. So he climbed the mast and began a yak yodel that had Dazza laughing and Rooster crowing. Not that this was any different from the rest of the trip. Dazza, with his offsider Thommo (baa!) had not stopped laughing except when Little Belle Peep abused them for falling off inside the tube and Thommo (baa!) was devastated that no-one had captured his 'barrel-of-the-trip' on celluloid. Renoir and Captain America-who-lives-in-Australia had seen it, promised that it would be forever etched in their minds, and promptly forgot about it.
The Rooster never stopped crowing at the sight of the waves, the islands, the sunsets, the sea, the laughs. Except one early when Little Belle Peep got up him for crowing too loud. Offsiders, she stated, need their sleep.
Duganaut found his straps and became the red shining light in all their lives and his searing turns and gung-ho take-offs reminded the boys of that great Aussie icon, Mick Campbell.
Clark overcame his demons. He had only be surfing for 2 years and never over coral. He found a true joy in riding waves and not even the world's strongest handcuffs could stop him from pursuing his newfound freedom.
As for The Mad Hatter, well, they were in awe of him. Not only did the waves turn on every time he paddled out for a solo surf· but·he was the kid in Big Wednesday that handed a hung over Matt Johnson his board at the bottom of the Malibu stairs. "Here Matt, you can take mine". Deadset! And they even found out it was filmed at The Ranch and some fun surfs went down between shoots. AND·his brother is Bobby Brady..fair dinkum! He even went to Hawaii with them when Greg learnt to surf. AND· he was the chicken that threw eggs at the Karate Kid!! Mind you, all this info (supplied by his buddys) only fuelled the Aussies in their non-stop jibing.
Yes, thought Renoir, as he limped back to the helm, a good trip. He kicked the engine in the guts and drove off into the tropical sunset. A moment later, Little Belle Peep, informed him he was supposed to be going East, not West!!!!