Mick Sowry

Mick Sowry is an Aus­tralian surfer/filmmaker respon­si­ble for Musica Sur­fica, a film which has won awards at surf film fes­ti­vals all over the globe. An adept sto­ry­teller, he also writes the surf blog Safe to Sea. Mick gra­ciously allowed us to talk to him about his life.

What was your life like grow­ing up?
I was born in Fiji and spent my child­hood to age 10 in Ade­laide, South Aus­tralia, about two min­utes from the beach. It was a sur­f­less beach, but my love of the water comes from won­der­ful days there—getting sun­burnt and begin­ning my freckle col­lec­tion. I didn’t have swim fins then, and came up with the bright idea of run­ning around on the bot­tom with a rock. That lit­tle beach did give me one of my first pro­found wave expe­ri­ences. A bit of a storm, and sit­ting right in the shore break let­ting the waves blast me. I absolutely loved it.

It was with my dad in front of my house in Ade­laide I saw my first surf­board. 1958. On top of a white Holden wagon. I thought they were jets. Dad informed they were surf­boards, and I wanted to be a part of it—whatever “surfboards-ing” was. Not long after that, I saw my first Waimea footage on the telly, and my first wave out there in 1986 was a good moment. It took me till late 1968 for my first board surf though and a year more to the first board as dad said I had to work to get it.

When did you get your first surf­board?
New Year’s Day 1970. I’d bor­rowed boards before that and could already stand up and turn, but that day was my ground zero. I looked like a duck … some­times still do.

What was the feel­ing you had when you first stood on a surf­board?
Whoooosh and “Holy crap, I can turn this thing!”

Who did you look up to and admire when you were a young man?
I strug­gled know­ing what I wanted to be, and con­se­quently didn’t go as hard as I should have at school. On exam days, I even dis­ap­peared for a splash and must have been a mas­sive dis­ap­point­ment to my par­ents. I had always been good at art and writ­ing, so I ended up in adver­tis­ing when in ret­ro­spect I’d have loved to paint. I love being inside my head … always a bit of a dreamer really.

But adver­tis­ing it was—as an art direc­tor. And there were peo­ple within that world that became great friends, but always, always, the artists and pho­tog­ra­phers had my atten­tion more than the peo­ple fill­ing the adver­tis­ing awards books.

In surf­ing, I had my heroes. Barry Kana­iaupuni. I loved that bot­tom turn and every time I pad­dled out I’d imag­ine bury­ing the rail nose to tail. Terry Fitz, Wayne Lynch, Nat in Morn­ing of the Earth. Mau­rice Cole rode one of the best waves I ever saw rid­den at Winki. A local leg­end, Mick Pierce. Micky could devour a lineup, and was a great tube rider. A thou­sand sto­ries around that guy. Fun­nily (and through the odd­est of sep­a­rate cir­cum­stances), Nat, Wayne and Mau­rice actu­ally became friends, though much later. Plus, I had a chat with Barry once. The laugh was I’d imag­ined a giant of a man and he was about the same size as me.

The biggest surf­ing com­pli­ment I ever got was recently when I was chat­ting to Derek Hynd and out of the blue he said, “You know, Mick, that bot­tom turn of yours has a lot of B.K. about it.”

My head exploded.

So back to peo­ple I admired, in the deep­est sense. My par­ents, Brian and June, for grace, com­pas­sion and grit. Always being there. A happy, lov­ing home.

Of all the places you have trav­eled to, what place in par­tic­u­lar stands out and why?
Surfwise…Hossegor, in France.  My mate Rene and I, along with three Queens­lan­ders (Cap, Brando and the Phan­tom) who we met on the beach there, were pretty much the first trav­el­ers since the Evo­lu­tion crew to set­tle there for a bit. Empty per­fect beaches Can you imag­ine surf­ing per­fect Esag­nots or Cap­bre­ton by your­self, and the most wel­com­ing, lovely peo­ple? Magic.

After that, Spain, Por­tu­gal and Morocco. Per­fect surf in each, wish I’d stayed longer, but had hung so long in France… I did get Mundaka, though, as good as I’ve ever seen it.

Indi­vid­ual un-named breaks off Suma­tra. Slick, gur­gling, heaven.

As a place alone… an ad shoot in the cen­tre of Aus­tralia.. dropped on a moun­tain top by heli­copter, left for a cou­ple of hours when the film crw went to get some stuff, dusk, an hori­zon that went for 2 or three thou­sand miles in any direc­tion and I might have been the only man on earth…it could have been 20,000BC or 2300AD. Not want­ing to get mys­ti­cal, but it put me in a good place.

Who/what inspires you?
Recently, Derek Hynd and Richard Tognetti for obvi­ous, but dif­fer­ent, rea­sons. Rich because of his drive to get the best out of his art, the best out of Aus­tralia in a cul­tural sense. And because with all he’s achieved and with the razor sharp intel­li­gence he has, he is still a reg­u­lar guy. Great with kids. A sur­pris­ingly good surfer, par­tic­u­larly fin­less, given his hec­tic sched­ule. He and my son Tom have a won­der­ful rapport.

Derek with his rest­less intel­li­gence. He’s cre­at­ing a new surf­ing. At its best, his fin­less act is mind-boggling. Not in gut­less crap, but ten foot Bells at ridicu­lous speed, power drift­ing, spinning—glued to the board and laugh­ing. At 52! Even if no one took it up, the open­ing of minds to some­thing else is what sets him apart. Richard too.

My dad because he lost every­thing at 55 and started again. My mum for her calm, and mak­ing me realise the 50’s house­wife was the most hon­ourable of professions.

My Sue for brav­ery as I watched her deal with a brain tumor 12 years ago,

The bat­tle against the closed mind. Fear­less­ness. That is prob­a­bly the answer.

I fight it in myself, as self-doubt is a killer …and it gets to me a lot.

On that note I’d have to add Nat Young. His self-belief is com­plete to the point of pain in the arse-ness, but it gets things done. When he was bashed in the surf, his response as he recov­ered was, “Stuff this! I’m gonna do a book about surf rage.” A cou­ple of months later, it was out. He didn’t vac­il­late. He just did it. There is a les­son there.

It’s not easy though, as every­one has moments of resis­tance to the new, or chal­leng­ing. In a way though it is what we should all strive for as even the most basic thing, like say, racism, is really fear of the unknown, the new, the other.

What lead you to fin­less surf­ing?
There’s an obvi­ous answer, but I will say I still would call my involve­ment a dal­liance. I can do it rea­son­ably well on the board Derek Hynd made me, make maybe 60% of my waves, but strug­gle enough that if it is dial­ing, I’ll take the finned board out so as not to be a dan­ger in the lineup. It’s fun, and recent stuff I’ve seen of Derek has got me fired up again, so who knows? The crux is I don’t have the lux­ury of a daily surf, so I tend to cher­ish them. I go with the mood.

I’ve just made a cou­ple of alaias—a new chal­lenge, stand-up as opposed to prone is mad­den­ingly dif­fi­cult. My goal there is to get stand-up-proficient, though these new hybrids with some float that Tommy  and Jon Wegener, Sage Joske and oth­ers in So. Cal. are play­ing with … that looks interesting.

You have to remem­ber I’m near to 56, was never a real gun, so even the fact that I’m still on a 6’0” is an achieve­ment in my eyes. One good turn makes a great surf. Happy surfs are easy to find if you keep try­ing new stuff.

Musica Sur­fica com­pletely breaks the mold for surf films. Were you at all sur­prised by how well it was received?
Musica was the most amaz­ing thing I’ve ever been involved in pro­fes­sion­ally. The con­flu­ence of per­son­al­i­ties, cir­cum­stance, finance, weather, on and on—it would only take brick to have it all fall down.

The oppor­tu­nity was given to me. I kept think­ing, “Don’t stuff this up.”
Thank­fully, with some won­der­ful peo­ple in it for the ride, I … we didn’t.

That it was well-received … well, crit­i­cally it was a huge suc­cess, but peo­ple do strug­gle with it too. Sales? I think it’ll bur­ble along for years, but the house is gone, a cou­ple of tor­rent sites have it as a free down­load and have had more of them than we’ve had in total sales. So it gets you think­ing. And mak­ing another with two kids at school? It’s a challenge.

You see, it’s a dif­fi­cult film to pigeon­hole. Try telling any­one to buy a film about fin­less surf­ing and clas­si­cal music  and they go, “Huh?” You have to see it to get it, but to get peo­ple to see or buy it is a job. Even the trailer doesn’t really do it justice.

What advice would you give to some­one who wants to try surf­ing a board with­out fins?
Stay low. Stay neu­tral and off you go. Once you find trim and begin to make waves, then start to work out how to apply power. Be pre­pared to face­plant, and be pre­pared to smile. It is a great talk­ing point in the water. Every­one starts grin­ning, ask­ing ques­tions, want­ing a look.

What are the great­est things you have learned in your life?
Keep an open mind. Respect another’s right to be. Per­sist. Stay calm. Trea­sure your friends. Love.

I’m not reli­gious at all. You don’t need the promise of heaven to do the right thing. Your moral oblig­a­tion as a human being is enough. And take a few deep breaths before a big set.

Do you have any regrets or wish you had done some­thing dif­fer­ently?
If I had done any­thing dif­fer­ently I wouldn’t be where I am now—so near to stuffed finan­cially, but with a fam­ily I adore, a grow­ing group of friends around the world, and again because of the GFC, the prospect of work­ing till I die. Now this might sound like a gripe, but a chal­lenge ahead is a bet­ter prospect in many ways than say­ing, “Righto, the bank’s full! I’m putting my feet up and wait­ing to die.”

All good, in a dif­fer­ent sort of way.

What are you most proud of?
Of course my family—a mad­house that is an even mix of scream­ing and laugh­ter … often within min­utes of each other. Sue and I have nearly divorced a thou­sand times and yet here we are 25 years later. Get­ting kids through the teens and see­ing them on their way is the great chal­lenge for any par­ent and beyond any per­sonal ambi­tion. That is my main goal.

That’s prob­a­bly where I envy those that started early and lived some dreams when they were most able to. There is no time like now to begin, the younger the bet­ter. My “now” came a lit­tle later than I’d have liked, but it came nonetheless.

What mean­ing does surf­ing hold for you and how has it changed your life?
Surf­ing is a calm cen­tre. My peace. It’s kept me healthy as long as you’re not a der­ma­tol­o­gist, who no doubt will build a swim­ming pool off me. It is as con­stant as breath­ing; it is a place of beauty and famil­iar­ity, and my gift to me. Amongst the myr­iad frus­tra­tions and mad­den­ing dif­fi­culty, there are still enough moments of ahh­h­hhh to keep me com­ing back till I drop.

What brings you the most hap­pi­ness in the world?
A good laugh, fam­ily, my friends. Eat­ing together. Basic stuff. The odd boat trip wouldn’t hurt either.

My great­est hap­pi­ness in a per­sonal sense, after all of the above, would be to live with a view of a wild ocean coast.

Who are some of the peo­ple you feel are shap­ing the path for surf­ing today?
Performance-wise, the kids: Kelly, Joel, Mick, etc. That high-end thing will always be an evolv­ing, ris­ing bench­mark. The other paths grow as surf­ing becomes some­thing beyond a sport. It now has depth and his­tory. There is a folk­lore of boards, style and art. The path is chas­ing the feel­ing that is you on a given day. More than ever just get­ting wet, hav­ing a slide on what­ever, is enough. You rip. You don’t. So what? As long as you work with your lim­its, and have a smile, ride away.

What is your favorite board? Your favorite surf spot?
Favourite board? If I’m on, my Mau­rice Cole 6’3”. A wave last year at six foot Bells was as close to an extended per­fect moment as I’ve had in years. Smooth, fast, for that wave I just … was. If I’m not on though, the best board in the world won’t save me.

Favourite wave? There’s a spot down south called Mas­sacre. A heav­ing hell drop right with a slot that lets you in, a square bot­tom, mad power, a tube some­times and a grind­ing race through the inside … or a fat shoul­der. Sunset-like. Rarely crowded, often lonely, always fun—suits me down to the ground and the home of some of the most sat­is­fy­ing surfs I’ve ever had. Good from 6 to 12 feet; best around 8 to 10. I love it, but only get to surf it a cou­ple times a year.

My favourite surf­ing moment though was a ses­sion at three foot Spooky’s Beach at Angourie.. A long, fast, high tide right bank break­ing from the mid­dle of the bay, by myself, 6 a.m., for­est to the water, bird­song, glassy. Peach pink and gold morn­ing. An end­less trim on the front end of Nat’s 10ft Takayama. No ego. No one to watch. Just crouched up the front, fin­ger in the wave, watch­ing the light.

What’s your favorite meal?
Any­thing Ital­ian or a hot curry or Chi­nese. Mush­rooms on toast. Indo food. Food, dammit. That’s my favourite food.

What are you cur­rently lis­ten­ing to on your iPod?
The kids laugh at my crap. The dri­ving disc I made for our Christ­mas run up the coast had “La Mer” by Charles Trenet (1954), Radio­head, Philip Glass’ “Etudes for Piano”, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, Spem in Alium (The Tallis Schol­ars.. 40 part renais­sance motet..circa 1570), “I’m Alive” from Morn­ing of the Earth, Led Zep (“Stair­way”), Madeleine Pey­roux (“Dance Me to the End of Love”) and Jimmy Hen­drix. It drove the fam­ily mad as they‘d love one thing then, “What the … ?” Need­less to say none of my stuff gets played at home. I love all sorts of stuff. As long as it takes me somewhere.

What causes/organizations do you sup­port?
Green­peace and the WSPCA get cash every month, and when some­one comes to the door they get some­thing if they don’t try the hard sell. It depends on how full the wal­let is.

What are you most grate­ful for?
Being born Australian.

What’s next for Mick Sowry?
I’d love to fin­ish what I started before Musica, and I have more than cou­ple of other projects that I want to see through. More writ­ing. More pho­tos. To paint more. To do and make inspir­ing, enter­tain­ing things with tal­ented peo­ple. To do the best I can for as long as I can.

Feed, and enjoy, my family.

And keep surf­ing, prefer­ably with my sons and my friends in the water. Sue’ll be on the beach read­ing. She hates get­ting her hair wet.

Find out more about Mick Sowry here.