Beyond the Break E-Book

Christo Hall

• Herausgeber: John Wiley & Sons
• Kategorie: Fachliteratur
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 272

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

What can a big wave teach you about living a big life?

Sharing remarkable experiences from the world of professional surfing, Christo Hall offers a unique perspective on how we operate under pressure. Beyond the Break tells the story of a man finding his path in life — and the surf lessons along the way that shaped his attitude for entrepreneurial success. With this book, you’ll join Christo on globe-trotting adventures and uncover the lessons he learned on the waves (or being pounded by them!). Discover how that wisdom from the waves can help you take your goals to the next level, from finding your purpose to managing anxiety and seizing opportunities outside your comfort zone.

From big waves in Hawaii to swimming with sharks in South Africa, Christo reveals an intimate glimpse inside the mindset and lifestyle of a pro surfer. His journey from sportsman to renowned business mentor interlaces stories of adrenaline-stoked competitions and misadventures in partying with insightful reflections.

From Christo’s stories and practical advice, you’ll discover how to:

• Handle your own inner critic
• Understand your limits and pick your battles
• Overcome failures and move forward to success
• Hone your mindset and boost your focus
• Find your motivation and align your goals with your purpose

With Beyond the Break, you’ll find the inspirational stories and the tips and strategies you need to take your own adventures to next level — in surf, business and life.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

COVER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1: HAWAII

CHAPTER 2: NARRABEEN

CHAPTER 3: FIRST EUROPEAN TRIP

CHAPTER 4: AUSTRALIA

CHAPTER 5: INDONESIA

CHAPTER 6: MALDIVES

CHAPTER 7: AFRICA

CHAPTER 8: FRANCE

CHAPTER 9: SPAIN AND PORTUGAL

CHAPTER 10: KANGAROO AND CANARY ISLANDS

CHAPTER 11: JAPAN AND BRAZIL

CHAPTER 12: HAWAII AND HOME (AGAIN)

GOING BEYOND THE BREAK

END USER LICENSE AGREEMENT

Guide

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Table of Contents

Begin Reading

Going Beyond the Break

End User License Agreement

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First published in 2024 by John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd

Level 4, 600 Bourke St, Melbourne, Victoria 3000, Australia

© John Wiley & Sons Australia, Ltd 2024

The moral rights of the author have been asserted

ISBN: 978-1-394-28083-4

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the Australian Copyright Act 1968 (for example, a fair dealing for the purposes of study, research, criticism or review), no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, communicated or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission. All inquiries should be made to the publisher at the address above.

Cover design by Wiley

Cover image: © Abstract Aerial Art/Getty Images

Back cover and internal photos: © Simon Anderson

DisclaimerThe material in this publication is of the nature of general comment only, and does not represent professional advice. It is not intended to provide specific guidance for particular circumstances and it should not be relied on as the basis for any decision to take action or not take action on any matter which it covers. Readers should obtain professional advice where appropriate, before making any such decision. To the maximum extent permitted by law, the author and publisher disclaim all responsibility and liability to any person, arising directly or indirectly from any person taking or not taking action based on the information in this publication.

INTRODUCTION

From my late teens I was a professional surfer, and I spent seven amazing years travelling the world competing on the world surfing circuit. Casting my mind back over my adventurous (and wild) professional surfing days, and bringing you the stories I share in this book, enabled me to recognise a pattern. Recurring fears surfaced in almost a systematic way, event after event. They are so clear to me now, but early in my career, on a day-to-day basis, the destructive thoughts were inescapable and hard to distinguish. A negative thought here, a feeling of discomfort there. En masse, they were enough to cause me to doubt myself, to procrastinate instead of making a decision, and to tear down careful planning.

It's incredible to me now to see how I would move through the same phases of anxiety leading up to each big surfing event or life decision. My inner voice would prod, prompt and nudge me away from my pre-event routine, sometimes over a period of weeks. My anxious mind would pull out every trick in the book — from giving me dreams about trying and failing, running late for an event or not being able to find my surfboard, to reminding me about every mistake I'd ever made or chastising me for skipping a workout.

But I also noticed another, more powerful, pattern. Many of my happiest moments in life came right after doing something that pushed me well outside my comfort zone. Making a difficult decision, pushing through a challenge against fear and taking action was fulfilling.

What I also realise now is that my surfing career had transferrable skills. Of course, I had massive concerns about ending a sports career, and being in my late twenties with no qualifications. But I found myself drawing on my professional surfing experience, and began to understand this experience was comparable to a powerful qualification. I'd had different life experiences to most people, and these experiences made me more effective in business. They gave me a process to compete in any space. They prepared me for business success.

Nothing has been handed to me or accidentally fallen in my lap. I've worked hard for my successes and taken chances to get ahead, overcoming mental and physical challenges.

I learnt from my surfing career not to shy away from challenges, but to embrace them as a pathway to happiness. The secret to fulfilment seems to be discomfort — or, at least, the path that pushes through the unfamiliar leads to discomfort, which (eventually) leads to fulfilment. (We certainly are strange creatures.)

I've realised the same mental challenges I faced in surfing are faced by all of us every single day. Sometimes these challenges are obvious, due to a large change or eruption of events, but often these challenges are almost unrecognisable because they happen so fast, or seem insignificant in the moment, only to reveal themselves when the tide goes out. However, your approach to these challenges — large and seemingly insignificant — has a huge impact on your results, and my lessons from the ocean will show you how to overcome them.

I've used the competitive knowledge I gained from professional surfing to build multiple successful businesses, and mentor others to generate hundreds of millions in additional revenue. All over the world and across many different types of media, I've been asked to share my unique approach to business — when in my mind, all I'm doing is surfing.

In Beyond the Break I do more than share my stories from seven years competing on the world surfing tour. I also give you strategies that can be applied to succeed in business, a career, sports or any hobby.

I provide insights into how to handle, and sometimes work with, your inner critic. (I've even given mine a name — introducing Bronco, everybody.) Similar to watching a set come in and picking the right wave to surf all the way to shore, I help you understand your limits, pick your battles and overcome failure. If you get dumped, you can dust yourself off, maybe spit out a mouthful of sand, learn your lessons and move on.

Most importantly, in this book I help you hone your mindset and find your true motivation — so you can carve through even the choppiest of seas.

So what are you waiting for? Grab your board, and let's go.

CHAPTER 1HAWAII: The biggest opportunities often appear to be mistakes

The oppressive humidity was the first thing that hit me when I stepped through the doors of the Hawaii International Airport, weary after a nine-hour haul from Sydney. On the plane I'd been barely able to keep my eyes open, but now I was hyped on expectation. World surfing circuit here I come. I had been anxious for months, knowing that Hawaii, with its life-threatening powerful waves, was the ultimate testing ground for an up-and-coming professional surfer.

Beads of sweat gathered in my hairline as I dragged a suitcase and huge board bag off the walkway and set them down.

Keenan dumped his gear beside mine. ‘Well, we're not in Narrabeen anymore. What time's our ride supposed to be here, Christo?’

I pulled a printed page from a pocket of my board shorts and unfolded it. Our flight itinerary and some details I had scribbled under it were all I had. ‘It's five past midnight, so we landed a little early. The sponsor guy back home said a photographer they're using would pick us up. Should be here any minute.’

Several of the passengers glanced quizzically at us as they scurried towards hire cars and taxis. No doubt they were wondering where our parents were. I smiled to myself. Nope, this sixteen year old was going to take the world by storm single-handedly.

Hawaii was a mystery to me, other than what I knew from the televised world surfing competitions I'd watched over the years. The island had been shrouded in darkness as we landed and the bright fluorescent lighting of the airport looked pretty much like any other cement monstrosity, but it wouldn't be long before we were on the beach, in the waves.

In the time it took me to down the last of the water I had in a plastic bottle, all the other passengers had cleared out. Keenan opened his board bag and checked that none of his seven boards had been damaged in transit. Stress head.

I raised a chin in question.

‘All good,’ he confirmed.

Ten minutes later, the lights went out at all the rental car stations. My gut twisted a little. Best laid plans and all …

Keenan rubbed the back of his neck, pacing the empty forecourt.

‘Maybe he's running late,’ I offered. Orange light glowed above a public phone box. ‘I haven't got a number for him, but we could phone the sponsor guy. You got coins?’

Keenan fished in his wallet and shook his head, showing me his palm with a few Australian coins on it. Not helpful.

The click of a deadbolt sliding into place sounded behind me. Keenan's eyes widened and we glanced at one another. The airport forecourt was quiet, lights going out inside the terminal. Even the taxi rank was empty. A lone stretch limousine driver paced the pavement as he finished up a smoke. We made eye contact and he nodded.

‘You two need a ride?’ he called, dropping the cigarette to the ground and twisting the ball of his foot on it.

‘I guess so. How much?’ I eyed the glossy, black vehicle that looked way out of our budget.

‘Where are you headed?’

I looked at Keenan, who shrugged. The sponsor had organised all that stuff, supposedly.

‘Um, North Shore.’ That's all I could remember.

The driver frowned. ‘That's a big area. Can you narrow it down?’

I shot Keenan a pleading look.

‘It's near Rocky Point?’ he suggested. ‘I reckon he said the accommodation was just to the left of the Rocky Point beach track.’

Well, that would have to do for now.

‘It's on my way home,’ the driver said, ‘so I'll do it for a hundred dollars. Are you meeting your family?’

‘No, we're here to surf.’ I stood tall and thrust my chest forward a little, proud.

‘No kidding?’ The driver helped store our luggage, the limousine so long our board bags fitted in the back with us. ‘Wow, you'll get to surf the best waves in the world here, but beware — the waves here are also the most dangerous in the world.’

‘We sure hope we get some good ones.’ I handed over fifty US dollars and so did Keenan. It was all we had in our wallets but it wasn't like we had any other option.

Less than an hour later we had arrived at Rocky Point, and were standing on the footpath in the dark, luggage at our feet.

‘You sure you boys will be all right on your own?’ The limo driver looked doubtful.

‘No worries.’ I flashed him a smile full of confidence I didn't feel.

Palm leaves swayed overhead, dark silhouettes against a purple sky, as the limousine pulled away. The sound of rolling waves thundered nearby.

‘What now?’ Keenan tapped a foot, manically searching the empty street for answers.

He was a year older, so I left the worrying to him and figured out a solution.

I glanced at my watch: 3.30 am. ‘I need to crash, man. Let's hit the beach and see if we can find our accommodation when it's light.’

We tentatively made our way down a narrow track towards the beach, the moonlight so weak I could barely see a metre in front of me. The sand that trickled over and under my thong-clad feet was icy cold and dense bushes crowded the pathway, but the familiarity of the salt-laden air beckoned me forwards.

At the top of the beach, the power of the waves reverberated through the night air, filling me with excitement and apprehension in equal measure. I could just make out white water in the shallows and black nothingness beyond.

We laid our bags on the soft sand at the top of the beach and lay down, a jumper rolled up for a pillow, a hand and foot touching each piece of luggage for security. My new Billabong hoodie provided minimal insulation from the sand and I curled into a ball to minimise the shivering.

Sleep came in fits, plagued by images of monster waves crushing me and waking to find my belongings stolen.

I woke with a start, hands grabbing for my luggage. Still where I left it.

Then I sprang to my feet, spitting sand from my mouth. Flicking my hands systematically through my hair and down my body, I dusted off the sand coating one side of me. A light breeze had picked up and I shivered, cold through to the bone. I prodded Keenan with one foot.

‘Screw this,’ I said. ‘I'm going to knock on doors until we find our accommodation. The sponsor said it was to the left of the Rocky Point track, right?’

Keenan nodded, rubbing sleepy eyes. ‘It's still the middle of the night.’ He shivered. ‘But, okay. Let's do this.’

I grabbed my luggage and dragged the lot back up the track, Keenan hustling to follow.

Standing on the quiet road, I looked at the houses on either side of the track. Was it left when facing the beach, or left when coming up from the beach?

‘This one's got boards outside,’ Keenan stage-whispered, a sudden look of confidence in his eye.

Between the leaves of a lush garden, the faint glow of a lamp beckoned through a bare window. It was the only sign of life in the vicinity, so we crept towards the door.

The moment of truth was upon us as we stood like voyeurs on the dark porch, daring one another to intrude on a stranger in the middle of the night, but I was never one to back down in the face of a challenge. I took a deep breath, steeled myself and knocked forcefully. No going back now. Despite my show of bravery, I felt the urge to step back behind Keenan.

I was never one to back down in the face of a challenge.

We both flinched in the direction of the road, as though we might make a run for it. Then we heard it. Movement inside. Someone shuffled towards us. The door handle turned and I took a step back from the big, muscular French-Polynesian frowning down at me.

Square jaw, wide forehead, low-set brows … I knew this guy. ‘Vetea David? No way.’

Oh hell, he was definitely going to pummel us for banging on his door in the middle of the night.

The big Tahitian's face softened and pearly whites flashed. ‘You two lost?’

‘Sorry for waking you, mate,’ Keenan said. ‘We're here to surf from Australia, but our ride didn't show up at the airport and we're not sure exactly where our accommodation is. It's somewhere around here. We both ride for Gorilla Grip.’ Genius move by Keenan, I thought, to find something in common by mentioning Gorilla Grip, knowing that Vetea was also a team rider.

‘Hey, no worries. I went to bed early and was up. Call me Poto. I'm hitting the waves shortly if you wanna bring your stuff in and come along.’

Shortly? It was still dark. Keenan shrugged at me.

‘Thanks, that'd be cool,’ I said.

We hurried to grab our gear.

Keenan whispered, ‘We're hanging out with bloody Vetea David!’

I just grinned, taking it as a good sign. The surfing gods were finally favouring us today.

Some kind of jungle dance music was playing on the stereo, and it lent a surreal atmosphere to sitting at a melamine kitchen table while one of the big names in surfing rolled a fat smoke. He puffed away, while recapping the previous day's events at the Pipe Masters competition. This comp was the pinnacle of world surfing events, and pretty soon I'd be riding the world-famous Pipeline break too.

‘Where you boys say you were from?’

‘We flew in from Australia at midnight,’ I told him, ‘and some photographer was supposed to pick us up.’

‘Oh, hell. There's a photographer dude staying here,’ Poto said, ‘and he mentioned something about picking a couple of teenagers up. Man, he went to a strip club earlier, to kill some time. Ha ha.’

A least someone was having fun. I was knackered from the long flight and shivering on the beach. My body screamed for sleep, but my mind was racing. This was the big league and I was on my way to surfing the greatest waves on Earth with the world's top surfers.

Poto sucked the last of his smoke and ground out the butt in an ashtray. ‘Let's go surfing.’

I glanced out the window. Still dark. This is it, Christo. Surfing Pipeline in the dark. I guess this is how you die. I forced the nagging voice out of my head. This is what I came here for; to ride monster waves.

‘How big do you think the waves will be?’ I asked nervously, opening my board bag.

‘It's gonna be big. Take your biggest board. Yesterday, it was a ten-foot Hawaiian swell.’

Keenan pulled a board from his bag. ‘Hawaiian?’

Poto laughed, a rich, melodic sound. ‘When they say ten-foot here, it's more like fifteen to twenty.’

‘Holy shit.’ My gut dropped. I sized up my suddenly insignificant seven-foot, six-inch board against Poto's massive board.

‘The way surfers measure wave height must be the eighth wonder of the world, bro. Or maybe the early surfers were too stoned to judge.’ Poto laughed heartily.

‘Or maybe they had enormous balls.’

‘Yeah,’ Keenan piped in. ‘I've said it's only eight foot out there when everyone else was saying it was ten, just to sound more hard core.’

‘Well, it's much worse in Hawaii, bro.’ Poto clapped me on the back. ‘Big boys with big balls riding massive waves. They'll say it's a small swell when they're riding neck-breakers.’

‘So, how big are you expecting the waves to be this morning?’ I tried to sound offhand, as though it wasn't an issue for me.

‘Big.’ Was all Poto said.

Shit. He rides massive waves every other day and he's calling today's swell big … I gulp down a frisson of panic. Sure, I'd ridden a six-foot, eight-inch board before, but I'd hoped to ease into the bigger waves and new bigger equipment. Clearly Poto was more of a baptism by fire kind of guy.

We loaded the boards into Poto's rental car and five minutes later arrived at Ehukai Beach, home to the surf break known as Pipeline.

The thunder of monstrous waves smashing onto the shallow volcanic reef filled the still night air. My heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just the sound; I could feel the power of the waves vibrating underfoot. I glanced at Keenan, who widened his eyes in a silent communication of unease. I'd never planned on riding my first big wave in the dark but I was a pro surfer now. Despite my instincts telling me to stop, I was going to stare these monsters in the eye and make this happen — even if I couldn't see them.

I slung my board under one arm and followed Poto down a dirt track, into the darkness.

I was going to stare these monsters in the eye and make this happen.

The houses either side of the beach access were being shook at their foundations by the deep rumble of the crashing waves. Seaspray floated through the air and coated my skin, and the familiar taste of it on my tongue drew me closer. Thank goodness for an unimpeded moon, which cast just enough light that I could see where to place each foot.

We emerged on the beach, eyes searching for the waves but only able to glimpse white water in the shallows. Waves were right in front of me — almost close enough to reach out and touch — and yet I was faced with the black hole of a dragon's mouth. A rumble built in its belly to become a roar that rushed at me, tingling through my hands and feet, exhaling salty mist in my face. It was a force to be reckoned with.

Pipeline is one of the scariest breaks on Earth, completely different to anything I had ever ridden before. And here I was, getting ready to ride it. In the dark.

When I'd visualised surfing Pipeline, I had imagined sunshine, sparkling tropical warm water, palm trees and perfect waves. It was surreal to be waxing up my board now on the beach, beside one of the greatest surfers in the world, barely able to make out his silhouette.

‘Let's go.’ Poto stood, muscles tensed, expression serious. ‘‘Ia mānuia.’

I stood behind him, game face on. ‘Huh?’

‘Good luck.’ The white of teeth flashed and then he was running into the water.

‘Let's do this,’ I said to myself, and charged into the gaping mouth of the dragon.

I paddled swiftly, trying to stay close to Poto so I knew I was in the right place. Keenan was hot on my tail. The rhythmic strokes and cool water moving over me was soothing. This was where I loved to be.

We made our way through the waves as the first bruise of dawn backlit distant clouds. It was just enough to reveal the size of the waves breaking out the back. Big didn't cover it.

At first, I stayed wide, watching from a safe place where the waves weren't breaking. Reading the ocean. Feeling the ebb and flow of its power. Getting an understanding for the number of waves in a set and where the biggest ones broke.

I had enough light now to watch Poto catch a couple of waves, and I cut my teeth on a couple of smaller waves. Adrenaline kicked in and flowed through my limbs as I pushed the board over the crest of some giant waves.

By the time I worked up the courage to position myself for a bigger wave, around twenty other surfers were sitting out the back. It was more crowded than I was used to back in my home beach at Narrabeen first thing in the morning. Wave after wave, a bigger, more aggressive surfer slipped in front of me. Unless I was willing to go toe to toe with one of the locals, I might not get another ride.

Then, the planets aligned. A huge swell lifted in front of me. It was now or never. I glanced at a local sitting next to me, almost asking permission, and he looked me straight in the eyes and said, ‘Go for it.’ My heart sank with the reality of what I now had to do, but my instincts kicked in. No way was I missing a good wave — and at Pipeline no less.

I paddled hard towards the direction of the beach just as an older local started to paddle for the same wave. He was further out than me but pulled the water through saucer-sized hands in a hurry. This was turning into situation.

No, I wasn't going to miss this wave. I paddled faster, shoulders burning with the effort, mere seconds away from the point of no return. After that, the only way to get out of the local's way would be to throw myself off the board and submit to being thrashed by the full brunt of the wave.

The wave continued to build, lifting me closer to vertical with a twelve-foot drop below me. Just as the moment of truth arrived, the local stopped paddling, fading off the back of the wave and out of my line of sight. It was all mine.

After that, everything happened so fast I didn't have time to think. I operated on autopilot, letting the muscle memory of thousands of other waves guide my instincts. The ocean dropped away in front of me, taking my stomach with it. As the wave face became so vertical that I was about to fall, I leapt to my feet and mustered every bit of experience, strength and skill I possessed as I free-fell the height of a two-storey building. Hanging onto the board with the tips of my toes. Down, down, down.

The steep wall of water seemed never-ending, only the edge of my board clinging precariously to its vertical face. At the instant it started to barrel over me, I angled across the wave and, suddenly, I was inside the tube.

It was like time slowed. Immersed in the thrill of being at one with the untameable ocean, raw energy surrounding me, I crouched inside the spacious barrel of inky water. It was a glorious moment in time. I was flying through the tube, dragging the tips of my fingers through the water, perfectly positioned on a monster wave. At Pipeline.

I might even make it out of this alive.

A dazzling flash lit the inside of the tube as I raced past a photographer swimming through the wave. Then I flew out the end of the barrel, going faster than I ever had before and still on my feet. I couldn't help but grin.

Wanting to savour every last minute of this momentous occasion, I rode the wave far longer than I needed to — partly making sure I was clear of any waves coming from behind and partly because I needed a moment to myself. I stayed on that wave until there was hardly anything left, and then finally turned off the back and sank onto the board in total awe of what I'd just done.

With no other surfers nearby, I lay back on the board, staring up at the golden glow of dawn. Hell, after years of watching movies and reading articles in magazines about Pipeline, I had really done it. I had ridden a monster wave and survived.

Adrenaline was still surging through my body, heart pounding my ribs, and then my legs started buzzing, kneecaps shaking uncontrollably. I shook out my legs, but it didn't relax them so I just lay there and breathed while hiding my shaking knees under the water. As I took deep, satisfied breaths, a surge of confidence came over me. Maybe I was ready to face the journey ahead. To become a success. To become a man.

I had ridden a monster wave and survived.

An overwhelming feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be flooded through me. I loved the unpredictability of the ocean. It could be unforgiving, cruel even, but for those of us who dared to brave it, to play with the danger, it provided proof that dreams could come true.

Lessons from the ocean

The biggest opportunities often appear to be mistakes

Sometimes the biggest opportunities appear at first glance to be the worst potential mistakes, or the silliest things you could do (like riding Pipeline in the dark). But it's often these things that drive success and leave you feeling the most fulfilled. Sometimes you need to go against the grain and ignore what other people think, or at least what you imagine they might think.

I've built my business, Basic Bananas, to become Australia's largest marketing mentoring organisation for business owners. When I first started it, however, I had a business advisor who was very successful herself. She said the name ‘Basic Bananas’ was a big mistake and instead advised that my business should be called something along the lines of ‘Million Dollar Marketing’, ‘Small Business Marketing Australia’, or ‘Your Marketing Guru’. None of these names sat well with me or my business partner — they were too dry, cheesy and non-memorable. We wanted to relate to small businesspeople who could have a bit of fun while being successful. So, against her advice and some personal fears, we named the business Basic Bananas.

To my surprise, only 18 months later I heard that same business advisor sharing in a presentation why Basic Bananas was such an amazing example of great branding.

Carve your path

Take a minute now to think back to a time in business, your career or your personal life when you felt really fulfilled. Try to think of seemingly small things — the kind of things you can implement again. If you visited Paris and felt fulfilled, that's awesome, but it might be hard to do every weekend. Maybe it was a big change you made or maybe it was a small thing you implemented. It could be something as simple as dedicating time and committing to doing a task you had previously been procrastinating about, or learning something new. Stretch yourself to think of something you can do again in the not-too-distant future.

Think deeply about what you did that led to this feeling of being fulfilled. Did you ignore external pressure, or maybe perceived external pressure, going against the opinion of others to follow your gut?

Once you have more of an idea of the actions that led to your feelings of fulfilment, practise replicating, or at least schedule to replicate (if possible) those same actions! Can you manufacture the same kind of situation again, or can you do something new to push your business, career, health or otherwise to a new level of satisfaction?

CHAPTER 2NARRABEEN: It's not about how hard you work; it's about the results you get

After the thrills of my first surfing trip to Hawaii and riding the famous Pipeline, let me backtrack a little … okay, all the way back to my childhood.