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In an extraordinary display of joy and solidarity, scores of 50-plus women braved heaving seas to make body boarding history on Nahoon Beach.
The first national Granny Grommets Festival attracted 132 surfing women from six seaside communities along the South African coast for two days of laughter and courage.
Organised by the Nahoon Granny Grommets, led by swim teacher and wildlife photographer Julie Thompson-Schroeter and her team of local founders, the competition-styled community gathering got off to a noisy start as teams filled the Beacon Bay Country Club main hall for the Friday night opening.
They arrived with colourful pomp and ceremony, to a table laden with goody bags and well-wishes from numerous generous sponsors, friends and a few intrepid men partners.
One gent standing next to this reporter at the exit door made the fatal error of whistling loudly to bring the cacophony of greeting to order and was sharply reprimanded by his partner.
Pamela Bowren, of Lapa Side, which organised the fun competition — structured in a way to simply let the bodyboarders all have time in the water — called the gathering a historic moment in SA body boarding.
An earlier informal session on Friday at Nahoon Corner took place in delightful clean, small surf, but when the women arrived on Saturday morning for the big one-day beach event, they were met by a heaving ocean with sets of massive waves breaking from Nahoon Reef across the bay.
A high-pressure cell to the south-east of KuGumpo City’s coastline had trapped a small, low-pressure cell, and in its cut-off state, it generated a ferocious and unusual south-easterly winter swell which slammed right into the normally protected bay and surged up the dunes, causing waves to backwash into the sea.
Lines of swell stacked to the horizon had the organisers, their safety crew run by Jonginenge Eco Adventure’s Dean Knox and a team of six young guides and a city lifeguard, pondering if it was safe to continue.
But with the Jonginenge team directed by Knox making a line in the surf, the tide dropping to reveal a gorgeous day on the beach, and some strict instructions, the Granny Grommets set off from the East London Lifesaver’s Shack to the beach in a parade which had never been seen on these shores.
There were purple pom poms, pink tulle skirts, leopard-print banded wide-brimmed hats, mascots of pink dolphins, huge yellow sunglasses, banners proclaiming sassy team names like the Salty Cracks, and team songs.
Earlier, there had been a lot of carting of gazebos, mats, food, camping gas stoves and kettles, wetsuits, chairs and a sound system.
The colourful parade set up home on the sands, away from any sensitive dune areas and plants.
Finally, as the women lined up singing along to ABBA’s Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man after Midnight!) and the Village People’s YMCA, the first heat charged into the sea.
The surf was energetic and there were one or two bumps, but also hands raised in claims, and a few face-plants.
Instead of observing from their gazebos, the women spent much of the day lined up on the shoreline cheering on their teams, which were deliberately mixed to foster friendship.
One rider and sponsor, Michele Gravett of Jawitz Properties, gave a humorous description of what it was like in the water, saying that in the informal Friday morning session, “one lady rode right over me”.
But the sun shone on the event and the Nahoon Point Nature Reserve provided a rich green backdrop to the roaring blue, green and bright white of the Indian Ocean.
As the day wore on, and the women burned energy, there was still no loss of gees.
Finally, in mid-afternoon, the competition ended, and tired, happy-looking women slogged their way back to the parking lot, loaded with bags and beach stuff.
In the evening, they returned for prize-giving, supper and a party at the lifesavers’ clubhouse.
While men sat in the background, chatting to their wives or watching rugby, the dance floor was a riot of action.
At one point, legendary entertainer Gino Fabrini took the mic and led the women in a medley of anthemic songs. They belted out the words.
The Tom Petty song Free Fallin’ saw a dozen women collapsing to the ground on top of each other, not much different to the mauls in the Bok-England game being screened on the television set in the bar next door.
And then it was over, with all the comments being on what an inspiring, unifying celebration of salt, surf and sisterhood it had been, as they headed home with phones filled with videos and photographs, memories that will endure.
Daily Dispatch
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