We might’ve titled this article “Rock jumps”, but somehow “Rock launches” seems to have far more gravitas.
Trident is Eastern Cape through and through. This region of South Africa has some of the most notorious rock jumps in the entire country. Supertubes. Bruce’s Beauties. Not to mention some of the lesser known spots, found on the wild sides of their respective towns. There are also jumps from man-made structures, such as breakwalls and storm water drains that are about as hairy as a Greek taverna owner. Also, like most of us – Trident has occasionally stubbed their foot while traipsing jauntily on an otherwise perfectly sandy beach, on the lone stone cunningly hidden by the works of wind and sand. Fine, so doesn’t count as a rock launch – but bottom line is, whether 3 inches or 3 metres, rocks are gnarly.
Rock jumps can be fun. In the same way as Russian Roulette.
Like most intimidating things in life, the more you do something and become accustomed to the experience the less daunting it feels. This is has a dark side however, as Trident blithely paddled out in J Bay earlier this year. Waves were sizey in clean conditions, but we felt more than confident doing so, having surfed in far bigger waves at said spot. This proved to be our undoing. Mistiming that final jump meant being caught in a far bigger set and thus becoming intimately acquainted with several of the lovely mussel covered rocks. Yes, we eventually made the lineup, red faced and panting and feeling like a bit of a prize poephol. Side note, both board and body were okay, but reputation was no doubt in tatters. Self esteem certainly was. Side note again; the classic surf afterwards more than made up for the humiliating intro to the session.
Many rock launches are little more than balancing on slightly, slippery smooth stones, or perhaps a spiky little reef or two before you reach water deep enough to paddle out in without inadvertantly sterilising yourself on a protruding pinnacle of rock. Or – and of course, and this happens more often than we’d like to admit – damaging or completely knocking those expensive fins out like the reverse of whack-a-mole.
Then of course – there’s the other kind of rock launch…
The kind of jump from the rocks that feels like you’re launching yourself into an extinct volcano, or perhaps over one of the gorges that are so common in the Eastern Cape. Like the Bloukrantz bungee minus the feeling of not dying. Surfers can be masochistic at the best of times, and nowhere is this more evident than in the kind of pressure we put ourselves into all in the name of saving paddling time. Perhaps the rock launch is the only option though, short of hiring a helicopter for easy lineup delivery and collection. (Author’s note: now there’s a thought, enterprising business minds… )
Rock jump fails are a favourite of online clip channels. Guys getting washed up onto dry rocks, with five feet of white water threatening to rag doll them are always hilarious if it’s happening to someone else. Getting your board literally impaled on a pinnacle of rock with 6 to 8 foot sets bearing down on you is about as much fun as a colonoscopy with a blowtorch when it’s happening to you though.
Worst ever rock jump experience? Tune us in the comments.
