[ THE SCIENCE OF THE SUPERBANK ]
[ Tim Winton Interview ][ Strong Current ]
[ Nat Young's Dream ]
[ The Tao of Mick Fanning ]
[ Tackling Gorillas in Peru ]
[ NORTH SHORE TRADE SHOW/ SHARE HOUSE/REALITY TV WEBCAST ]
[ HIGH SURF INTRODUCTION ]
[ GORDON MERCHANT INTERVIEW ]
[ BEN AIPA ]
[ HAPPY ACCIDENT ]
[ FLOATING ]
[ ALBE FALZON INTERVIEW ]
[ FULL MOON IN THE MENTAWAIS ]
[ JAMIIE MITCHELL ]
[ THE HUMAN BONFIRE ]
[ MENTAWAI LAND GRAB ]
[ GEOFF McCOY PROFILE ]
[ WHERE TO FROM HERE? ]
[ AUSTRALIA DAY WITH HERRO ]
[ THE WEBBER BROTHERS ]
[ ROBBIE PAGE ]
[ RIP CURL PRO PREVIEW ]
BLINDED BY SCIENCE
Want to really understand the forces that gave rise to the Gold Coast’s famed Superbank? Check out the mammoth Environmental Impact Statement, if you dare ...
By Tim Baker
Fancy a bit of light reading? I can thoroughly recommend the, “Tweed River Entrance Sand Bypassing Project Permanent Bypassing System Environmental Impact Statement”. All 400 or so pages of its weighty environmental analysis. It is a fascinating document, prepared in 1997 by a team of some 34 consultants, with input from 13 different government departments and 35 community groups.
It’s aim was to predict the environmental impacts of the proposed sand pumping system at the Tweed River entrance, on the southern end of the Gold Coast, by assembling all the modelling, projecting, assessing and forecasting that modern science could muster. Yet nowhere in its pages does it predict anything as mind boggling as the mighty Superbank and its couple of kilometres of perfectly groomed surfing sandbanks. The sand bypass system was devised with two chief objectives in mind - to keep the Tweed Rivermouth clear for safe navigation, and to prevent erosion of the Gold Coast’s beaches. While preservation of the Gold Coast surfing beaches’ “recreational amenity” was a major concern, no-one envisaged the spectacular windfall for surfers the project would produce.
The story of the Superbank goes way back, as far back as you care to delve into the formation of this astounding stretch of surfing coastline. Queensland’s Gold Coast, on around the mid-point of Australia’s east coast, was formed by the eruption and collapse of a huge, ancient volcano around 20 million years ago. Nearby Mount Warning, or Wollumbin to the local Aboriginal people, is the core of that now extinct volcano. The Gold Coast is the weathered remains of the volcano’s north-eastern flank, its characteristic ridge lines, headlands and waterways shaped by prehistoric lava flows and millions of years of weathering. The Environmental Impact Statement (or EIS, for short) explains: “Its coastal land forms evolved over the last 6500 years of sea level standstill, after major post-glacial transgressive sea level rise from 17,000 to 6,500 years ago.” The result has been a perfectly contoured coastline and series of points, as if designed by the Creator himself to catch the mighty Pacific swells and transform them into the air brushed and manicured tubular jewels of our surfing dreams.
But this is a dynamic coastal zone that modern man has tried in vain to bring stability to, since the very beginning of European settlement 200 years ago. The treacherous Tweed Rivermouth made navigation dangerous and numerous shipwrecks occurred on the notorious entrance sand bars. The picking up and setting down of supplies and, in particular, the early cedar cutting industry were thus fraught with danger. This made early development and the establishment of commerce and industry difficult, and the first training walls and dredging works were commenced in 1891 and completed in 1904. Major beach fortification was constructed along Coolangatta beach in the ‘30s, after cyclonic storms threatened to wash away the beachfront Marine Parade. The existing rock walls at the Tweed Rivermouth were built from 1962 to 1965 to again try and make the entrance safer. They achieved this for some time, until the sandbars gradually reformed. More significantly though, the seawalls extended some 380 metres from the shoreline and so trapped the natural, northerly littoral sand drift up the coast. Over time, this created a build up of sand on the southern side of the sea walls, and left the Gold Coast beaches to the north prone to erosion. Periods of heavy cyclone and storm activity in the ‘60s and ’70s stripped the beaches of sand, and without the natural northerly sand drift to replenish them, the beaches were slow to recover. As the lifeblood of the tourism-based economy, the depletion of the Gold Coast beaches was considered a disaster. Massive and costly engineering and dredging operations since have waged an unwinnable war to try and maintain a safe river entrance and ensure the health, or more specifically the width, of the Gold Coast beaches. It is estimated the sea walls deprive the Gold Coast beaches of some 500,000 cubic metres of sand annually.
The solution of the permanent sand bypass system was first proposed in 1990. The main obstacle to the project seemed to be securing the co-operation of neighbouring state governments - with the Tweed River sitting on the border of New South Wales and Queensland, the project required the agreement and joint funding of both governments. Eventually, this was ensured by an act of parliament, the Tweed River Entrance Sand Bypassing Act 1995.
The first public meeting was held on July 31, 1996, attended by only 40 people. For a public works project that has radically changed the face of the southern Gold Coast, this was a surprisingly low key affair. The EIS was released in 1997 to minimal fanfare, and the need for the system was widely accepted.
“The consequences of not undertaking a sand bypassing project would be a progressive worsening of navigation at the Tweed River entrance and continued erosion of the southern Gold Coast beaches,” the report warned.
The EIS is an exhaustive document, that appears to have factored in every possible consideration into the complex equation, from Aboriginal heritage to the welfare of threatened wading birds, noise pollution to visual amenity to the risk of oil spills from the sand pumping station. “Recreational amenity” of the Gold Coast’s surfing beaches were of crucial concern. Snapper Rocks Surfriders Club was closely consulted and members Bruce Lee and Wayne “Rabbit” Bartholomew were invited to sit on the advisory committee. All were confident the system would produce enhanced surfing conditions at the pointbreaks of Snapper, Greenmount and Kirra. “Beach width is expected to increase at Rainbow Bay, Greenmount and Kirra beaches, buffering the beach and remaining dune systems from erosive storm wave conditions and maintaining more stable beach conditions. Recreational amenity, including surfing, at these beaches is expected to improve,” the report observed. Of major concern, though, was the effect on the famed A-frame beachbreak peaks of Duranbah, immediately to the north of the rivermouth. The report recommended a comprehensive monitoring programme for Duranbah, comprising: “offshore wave measurement, regular surf quality assessments, regular hydrosurveys of nearshore shoals, regular hydrosurveys of entrance bar bathymetry and regular aerial photography.”
The report recommended a total of $165,000 be spent each year on environmental monitoring, with $84,000 to spent over 10 years on “surf surveys”. The report estimated some 1200 people in the Gold Coast region derived their livelihood from surfing related businesses, worth a total of $160 million annually. “The value of the southern Gold Coast beaches as a lucrative economic and recreational resource highlights the importance of maintaining good quality surfing conditions in the future,” it observed. The report concluded: “This study has shown that the project objectives are practical, achievable and sustainable ... It is concluded that the significant positive impacts considerably outweigh the negative impacts which would be limited by effective management.”
The report recommended that the project be implemented in two stages: the dredging of two million cubic metres of sand from the Tweed River entrance bar and associated nourishment of southern Gold Coast beaches, and the construction and operation of a permanent sand bypassing system, in perpetuity. The system would dredge an estimated 500,000 cubic metres of sand from the rivermouth annually, and deliver it to the southern Gold Coast beaches, thus simulating the natural, littoral sand drift.
The report’s recommendations were adopted, and construction began soon after its release. The system consists of a 450 metre long jetty, jutting straight out to sea just south of the Tweed Rivermouth. 11 jet pumps, each 12 to 15 metres deep, scour out large cone shaped holes along the length of the jetty, forming an enormous trench that captures sand on its natural northward drift up the coast. Four jet pumps operate together at any one time, each digging holes up to 12 metres deep and 30 metres in diameter. Permanent sand outlets at Snapper Rocks, Rainbow Bay and Kirra pump the sand on to the southern Gold Coast beaches, with the facility for additional sand pumping at Duranbah, as required to maintain surf quality. The system can pump a total of 12,000 cubic metres of sand in 24 hours. The whole thing was built at a cost of AUD $25 million, with operating costs estimated at $110 million over the next 25 years. At that time, it is predicted the entire system will need replacing. Quite an investment to deliver the perfect tube ride.
Rabbit and Bruce have done an impressive job on the advisory committee, largely determining where, when and how much sand is pumped on to Gold Coast beaches. They are fine tuning their understanding of exactly how to maintain the best possible surfing banks, much like snow blowers in the ski fields might be used to keep a ski trail well-groomed. In fact, some have accused the surfing community of hijacking the project for their own selfish purposes.
The so-called “bucket and spade brigade,” the families who flock to the Gold Coast’s beaches for their holidays, are mourning the loss of their protected little nooks inside Rainbow Bay and Greenmount Point, and the old longboard crew grieve for the passing of their gentle peelers off Greenmount.
While the long trek across the newly widened beaches angers some, aerial photography suggests the beaches have merely been returned to their pre-1960s conditions, before the Tweed River rock walls went in. And as Rabbit points out, the system is largely untested as the buffered beaches are yet to feel the brunt of a major cyclonic event. While Duranbah surfing conditions have suffered, occasional sand replenishment has generally addressed the problem, as predicted. And while some grumble about the demise of Kirra as a surf spot, there are still days when it turns on with all its former glory. Generally, though, the pick of the tubular action is to be found just south at the former longboard haven of Greenmount. In optimal conditions, the Superbank is capable of producing rides of two kilometres, multiple barrels of 10 seconds or more and the kind of surfing peak experiences fantasies are made of. The irony, however, is that having inadvertently created Australia’s longest wave, it is often impossible to ride it for more than 50 metres without being dropped in on. Like John Steinbeck’s “The Pearl,” the riches of the Superbank unearth some of the ugliest aspects of human nature.
What the future holds for the Superbank is unknown. Is it possible to pump too much sand on to the Gold Coast points and render them fat, sluggish closeouts? Will overcrowding provide only a nightmare vision of surfing’s hostile future? Or will the glorious tubefest roll on, producing a new generation of super-grommets able to ride the barrel in their sleep? Only time will tell. For now, the Superbank is not for the feint-hearted. Personally, I rarely surf it, so scarred have I been by some of the most hideously crowded surf sessions of my life.
I drove home from one such session recently with a fin chop to my shoulder and a dent to my dignity, when I had to slow down for a startled dog trying to cross the busy Gold Coast Highway. I spotted it stranded on the median strip, freaked out by the traffic whizzing by, swivelling its head to and fro before it made a desperate dash across the lanes of speeding cars, only narrowly avoiding disaster. Oddly, I found myself empathising with the crazed canine. Then I realised - the Superbank had left me feeling like a startled dog stranded on the median strip of the surfing super highway.