Everyone has to believe in folklore or legends. It makes the history of an event or destination seem interesting, maybe personal or relevant. Well Noosa Heads is that place in surfing for me. It has been seen in surf movies, magazines since the late 70’s, so it has had time to change and develop over the years. But in my mind it had air of decadence and standard, something that would hopefully stand the test of time, not giving in to commercial pressures. The only problem was that I had decided to make my trip to surfing Mecca with the ‘terrible twosome’, whose ideal was to make camp in fashion retail outlets along the terribly posh Hastings Avenue sipping champagne, of course with both pinkies out. Where were my long haired, aqua orientated, non-career focused layabouts?
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