After last weeks game of hunt the car park in Scarborough, it seemed eminently sensible to leave a slightly larger window of opportunity to find the Kurrawa SLSC this week. A quick glace at the map showed it should be a simple case of driving into Surfers, keep going until you see the beach, turn right before your wheels get wet and follow the road until you see a lot of skaters in a car park. How hard could that be?

One hour to get to Surfers, fifteen minutes to weave along the sea front and fifteen minutes just in case, meant leaving home at half past seven on the dot for a nine o’clock start. It’s amazing how the night before you can plan out a schedule with near military precision taking every possibility and contingency into account yet somehow in the cold light (and warm bed) of morning, time takes on a whole new elastic quality. Half an hour for a shower, what was I thinking? Twenty, no ten minutes should be plenty. Fifteen minutes to eat breakfast? That sounds a bit extravagant; I could just eat something in the car on the way down! Suddenly you have completely rationalised an extra hour in bed, scrapped the fifteen minutes contingency time and find yourself leaving at ten to eight fully convinced you have plenty of time.

Leaving Brisbane revealed a grey overcast sky that stretched without break to the horizon. Within minutes it was raining, lightly at first, but soon coming down hard enough to start sowing seeds of doubt about the possibility of the tour going ahead. Turning on the radio and listening to the weather report didn’t do much to dispel the doubts with talk of overcast sky and light showers all along the coast.

As is often the case in these types of scenario, when the weather is grim in Brisbane, it’s usually nice on the Gold Coast. With this thought in mind I continued on, heartened by the fact that as the kilometres ticked by, it had not only stopped raining, but the closer I got, the brighter the sky was becoming. By the time I was picking my way through the high rise blocks along the seafront, all worries of rain had been replaced by a new realisation that it was now five minutes to nine and I didn’t appear to be anywhere near Kurrawa. A quick glance at the map revealed that I was panicking unnecessarily as it was actually just round the next corner. I pulled into the car park with three minutes to spare only to find that the small market being held next door had soaked up all available parking spaces. As I circled round formulating plans to find a spot in a nearby side street I noticed an empty space and dived into it. I had just finished lacing up my skates when a burly gentleman in a slightly too tight uniform approached and informed me that my chosen parking spot would incur a fine of $50. It appeared that in my haste to find the first available spot, I had not noticed that the lines were painted yellow and not white. This indicated under club rule 1563a sub-paragraph ‘d’ I was in violation of the 1974 parking committee recommendations that only vehicles displaying a yellow and red flag in the lower right hand corner of the windscreen were allowed to make use of the sections of car park designated with yellow lines! I apologised profusely and parked down the street.

My time related panic was once more unfounded. It seems I was not the only person to have been a little over optimistic with my timings. A trickle of skates slowly turned into a small enthusiastic throng. The only thing missing were tour staff. Minutes later, Monte and Vaughan arrived although there was no sign of Asha. We were on the verge of leaving when she shot into the car park. As she pulled on her skates Terry appeared muttering something about all Surf Life Saving Clubs looking the same. Fully assembled and suitably introduced, we set off along the bike path towards Burleigh Heads (or Cold Rock depending on your preference for geological or snack related landmarks). With Monte and Vaughan leading the tour and getting able assistance from Asha, Paul, Jo and Russel we faced down the head wind and cruised out to, what for many is the highlight of the day, South Nobby.

Climbing the steep concrete stairs revealed the “big knob”, as someone referred to it, in all it’s glory. The grass was short and the ground was hard. It promised to be a fast run to the bottom. Monte demonstrated the required technique for grass skating closely followed by Russel who demonstrated the required technique for doing yourself serious damage on steep grass hills (starting from the very top, no scissor and using a stride three push all the way down to get extra speed). As skaters ventured out individually, successful runs to the bottom left large grins on people’s faces and a rush to get back to the top for another go. Asha made a valiant attempt to skate down on one foot, promptly chose the wrong one and performed a spectacular headlong dive with half pike and twist to finish.

The best was yet to come however. As everyone gathered at the bottom of the hill, Monte suggested a train would be both spectacular and a lot of fun. Volunteers quickly stepped forward and soon half a dozen of us were trotting up the hill ready to perform for the gathering crowd. Spectators were heard to comment that “this they had to see” and an excited crowd soon stood in expectant silence. Only a drum roll could have added more tension to the event. Monte took the lead and we linking together behind him. The 1:30 South Nobby express pulled out of the station on time, accelerating quickly on the steep incline towards the Lower Nobby terminus. The crowd oohhhhed as we weaved left, they aahhhed as we swung right and then burst into fits of hysterical laughter as Monte guided us into the only dip on the whole hill. Without the benefit of being able to see what was coming, everyone behind Monte was basically holding on for dear life. As a wave of “my goodness I wasn’t expecting that” (or words to that effect) passed along the train the inevitable happened and a chain reaction began that saw everyone from Monte back suddenly experiencing alternating flashes of green and blue. Small amounts of skin were quickly swapped for large patches of grass and mud as the South Nobby express came to a shuddering halt in what could best be described as a dishevelled mess.

As the battered remnants of the train arrived at the bottom of the hill, stain sizes were compared and photos taken for posterity with much laughter ensuing. The crowd at the top of the hill dispersed smiling, having seen a toughly good show. It wasn’t long before we were all on our way to the nearby Cold Rock and a well deserved ice cream.

The paths on the Gold Coast are a mixed bunch. While some of them consist of beautifully smooth concrete, rather a lot of them are the rather less preferable small rough stone type. These drag on your skates and make progress hard work. This is doubly bad when the roughness of the stone is variable. One minute you are pushing hard to overcome the friction of the path, the next your skate almost comes to a stop and you get pitched forward. Even Vaughan (who never complains about anything) commented that a combination of hard wheels, an ultra stiff frame and boots made out of materials so advanced they make the space shuttle look like a rusty pile of junk, was “feeling the bumps a bit”.

Ice creams consumed and sugar levels returned to above normal, we turned and headed back to Kurrawa. With the wind behind us the rough paths were swapped for the road. This made for much easier skating and the pace picked up noticeably. In seemingly no time at all, we were back at the car park and the skating portion of the day was over. Lunch beckoned, but a quick poll raised the possibility of a swim in the sea and a sit on the beach. This idea was enthusiastically taken up and a quick change later found skates swapped for togs by most people.

The lunch on the last Gold Coast day hadn’t been the best ever and Monte suggested a new location on Tedder Avenue called Easy Pease Thai and Japensey (or something along those lines). This sounded good and we were told it was just up the road a bit on the left. This sounded ever so slightly vague so a quick check of the map confirmed that it was in fact just up the road a bit on the left, although it was comforting to clarify “a bit” into a more precise distance.

On arriving in Tedder Avenue, it turned out that Easy Pease Lemon Thai Squeeze was shut on a Sunday. This lead to a scouting party examining the other restaurants lined up along the length of the street for a suitable alternative. Most were either full or possibly a little upmarket for a bunch of delicately perfumed skaters. One however was both reasonably priced and more importantly, empty. Going by the unpronounceable name of Fadó (Gallic for a long time ago), it offered a tempting menu of Irish delights and a waiter who was not only keen for our business but was also more than happy to help with the inevitable bout of furniture arranging that takes place where ever Planet descends for lunch. Various salads, stews, fish concoctions, shaved vegetables and potatoes in any manor of styles were ravenously consumed with Monte and Vaughan hoovering up anything that was left over. An item on the desert menu labelled as ‘Baileys bread ice cream’ piqued Jo’s interest and the rest of the table felt it was just good manners to join her in the ordering of a pudding.

With Irish music wafting out of the restaurant and sending everyone to sleep, it was time to head off home. First time tourer Justine thanked everyone for an enjoyable day and when Monte asked if he would be joining us next week he had what will possibly go down as the best reason ever for declining. “No, I’m in a Jet Ski race” is right up there with “sorry but the shuttle is prepped and ready to launch” or “I only need another eight points in Monaco for the world championship”.

As ever with the Gold Coast tour, an excellent days sk8ing was had by all.