17 June, 2018 17 June, 2018

JORDY SMITH CPT SURF PRO PRS. BY O’NEILL DAY 2

Yesterday, the ocean was throwing a hissy fit. Perhaps it was just gatvol of our dirty habits or maybe it was going through a turbulent mid-life crisis. Point being it was moody and not liss on entertaining us. However, certain surfers expressed dissimilar interests and feelings whipping the backhand out and sending that frothy ocean packing into the naughty corner, leaving it to cool overnight.

It seemed to have done the trick, cause today she was looking like a perfectly carved out snow angel. Well bodied and glistening in the sunlight that pierced the icy chambers of the stratosphere, but still cold as hell. Back out in front of Big Bay Surf day two of the Jordy Smith Cape Town Surf Pro pres by O’Neill brought on a welcomed reprieve from the stormy dragon esque weather conditions. So, who has the brave and noble knight who pulled sword from stone leaving with the dragons head of Day two?   

 

If this were medieval times, where apples were free of pesticides and people got beheaded for eyeballing the kings misses Mattew Mcgillivray would be that homie dropping the guillotine on fools. He was an executioner out there today, and instead of cutting off heads in the 16th century he was decapitating lips with a fiberglass sled. Clean. Powerful. The judges agreed as he posted the highest heat total of the event with 17.35 and highest single wave score of 9.10. All the damsels, free of wooden teeth, in awe of his work out there.  

Chad Du Toit, the man with a vendetta. Ready to dethrone the king, like bottled lightning waiting for his chance to strike 1 billion volts of pure energy into each maneuver. His second wave his badge of honor, a 7.75. Respectable and noteworthy. However, perhaps moving forward this knight needs to reel in that power, harnessing it. Striking with more purpose.   

Heat 5, there was an air of anticipation leading up to this one. And it did not disappoint. Slade Prestwich & Adin Masencamp leaving the other two competitors to throw mud at each other in the ring while they shook their the gloves and went bare-knuckle on each other. Lefts, rights, hacks, swivels it was one of those trade-offs where you couldn’t guess who was gonna take home the sheckles, that’s what they used back then, right?  In the end, Slade emerged from the scrap the victor, 0.25 the better on the equally as impressive Sir Masencamp. Shit, that actually sounds knightly. 

Tomorrow is shaping up to be one helluva clash, metaphorical blood will be shed. Gladiators, oh no wait we’ve been following a different theme. Knights, that’s it, will trade noble steeds for boards, chain mail for neoprene and bridge trolls for waves. It’s gonna be a King Arthur like battle scene, minus the peasants and scurvy. We can’t wait to see who steps up and crowned the king of the ring. 

This is 2018. Where women are able to do battle and not resigned to the castle walls. Free to fight, expressing themselves, fierce, powerful, and full of drive. Calculated, like an algebra test with a side of geometry the women’s heats were exactly that, heat!! Zoe Steyn and Kai Woolf, take a bow. Welcoming their foreign competitors to take a shot. But this was home country. Their colours were bleeding heart as they denied the visitors their visas at the border, whilst sipping grog from their golden chalice, pinky up!

Staying true to form, Kai Woolf took home the junior women’s title. Effortless, it was like watching Ali in his prime. The footwork was flawless, the speed, drive, and precision she delivered left onlookers with mandibles in hand. You couldn’t help but feel einchie bits sorry for the waves. Oozing confidence, it was almost as if she knew she would win. It’s been a great year for Kai and she’s only half done. Plenty more to come for this one, no doubt.

The junior men’s title was decided before the close of play, and it was Jolan Bonelli who took home the spoils. Surfing his way into the final like a hardcore gamer crushes Red Bulls, fast and thirsty for more. Always on the lookout for that extra bit of whip-ass. And whip-ass he did, the quality of surfing on display was just ridiculous. On the shore, you can bet everyone was spelling out R.E.S.P.E.C.T.

As we move into the last day, our lads and lasses who still remain in contention for the open men’s and women’s crown are ready. Lurking in the cold winters night, void of frost because they’re hot and ready to tear that ocean a new one come finals. Yesterday we asked for gravy and we got it, on Sunday we ask for seconds and dessert. Malva pudding anyone? 


  

All images supplied by: Ian Thurtell

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