A tribute to Adam from his friends

It is probably the end that most us ‘wave slaves’ fear the most… Shark Attack – that last glassy wave at dusk or that darkened stormy dawn when you are the first in the briny. The fact that in Gods Own we are, for the better part of the year, wrapped from head to toe in dark neoprene and look as ‘seal like’ as you could get. At times it’s as though we are asking for it, that our Nemesis awaits. However, I don’t believe it. This is a freak and terrible accident, the first in 40 years and the first ever in this region. If it had just been a single shark, Addy would still be with us I’d say; in fact - fuck it - I’m sure. The fact that another had to come to the rescue of the first is testament to Addy’s size and sheer power as a waterman. A waterman he definitely was, not just a surfer, a man who used the water like a second home: who could find his stoke whether he had a 6 foot set wrapping around Shag Rock or not… if it was flat he wouldn’t turn away and read a book or hook into some idle sport replayed on the telly. No, he would grab a hand plane or a paddle board or just swim, exploring what lies beneath that elusive Maori Bay A frame. His appetite and enthusiasm for the briny was extraordinary. He had decided, I think, that when he moved to Muriwai to embrace the ocean fully, to spend every spare moment between work and family life in the ocean currents and tides. And when out of the water his camera was recording, framing, long exposing, watching… like a resident Gannet. As a father and husband, Addy truly soared. His dedication to Meg and daughter Indigo was as obvious as our dramatic west coast cliffs and inky sand. His love for his family was both palpable and generous and he was more comfortable rolling around with Indi on the carpet causing havoc than being upright, inciting fun and chaos without fail. Even at home he somehow lived his life like it was a wave, from pleasure moment to pleasure moment, meandering through the odd flat section to another of more promise where he would have to grab rail and howl with pleasure down the line with all those present in his wake. If you have had the pleasure of surfing with Mr Strange, a few things become obvious. You are in for a chat – an animated and thrilling account of life, but he was always keen to hear about your version, not his. He will take your average morning and twist it into a glorious adventure, your shabby love life will become princely and exotic and your lack of employment a complete triumph. To Addy, life was right now, the next wave is a gift from the Gods and there to be shared between tribal warriors. HI attitude towards waves and sharing should resonate for all to hear. There was no such thing as localism. A wave was just that, a wave. His generosity matched his enthusiasm and his bravery separated him from the pack. Imagine if we all had his attitude, we could travel the globe and surf without fear or prejudice. Being a surfer is global, universal, how surfing should be. One of Addy’s favourite surfing destinations was ‘Impossibles’, Bali. This wave is tenuous, tricky and great. Views over the volcanoes, small crowds and crystal clear water. The added fact