down time Surfer
mick fanning He’s lost none of his star power since retiring but surfing legend Mick Fanning is basking in a life less scheduled
Story carli philips Photography corey wilson
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lives just five minutes from the airport. It may well be the most prosaic thing about the three-time World Champion they call White Lighting – except that when you religiously follow weather forecasts, dropping everything to catch a wave in, say, Ireland or Morocco at a moment’s notice the proximity of a plane becomes all the more pertinent. “I’ll sit there and watch maps and leave it to the very last minute to go to a destination and get a swell. I love the anticipation; I’m always ready and prepared,” Fanning, who turns 38 this month, tells WISH from the driver’s seat of the new Mercedes-Benz X-Class – for which he is an ambassador – on a drive through the NSW hinterland. Until his retirement from the sport in April last year, impromptu travel was a luxury rarely afforded to Fanning. He had been on the professional circuit for more than two decades and a gruelling schedule had him away from home for months at a time. His official departure from surfing made worldwide headlines, but there had been murmurings back in 2016 when he took a “gap year” after his split with then wife Karissa Dalton. With limited commitments, he took some “awesome trips”, including fishing in Alaska and surfing under the Northern Lights. But it was four hours in a carpark waiting for his heat at the Margaret River Pro that sealed the deal. “I was just sitting there, wondering, what am I doing here?” he says. “There was so much fun I still wanted to have. I made the decision that day: I’m done. I had got W I S H JU N E 2019 37
to a point where I’d lost the drive to compete ... I knew I wasn’t giving it my all. You can only keep pushing for so long.” He may no longer surf professionally, but the country’s affection for this down-to-earth Aussie remains a lucrative asset, with companies still lining up for endorsements. Rip Curl, which first sponsored him more than 20 years ago, recently renewed his contract, this time as a key rider in their adrenalin-fuelled The Search project facilitating trips for top surfers to chase “perfect waves” in uncharted territory. His star power is unique; his skills are otherworldly, yet he possesses an approachable, everyman appeal. Modest, and with a scandal-free track record, he is a dream for brands, and currently partners with the likes of Red Bull, Vertra sunscreen, cutting-edge surf accessories label Creatures of Leisure, and now, Mercedes Benz Vans. The last pairing may seem somewhat incongruous given his association with more accessible lifestyle brands but the company says it’s a perfect match. “We see [the V6 ute] as a vehicle for those with a modern, active lifestyle and those with an evolved definition of what “tough” means,” says Dianne Tarr, managing director of the category in Australia and New Zealand. “Mick stood out by a mile because he too embodies these traits. He is not only a consummate professional and undoubtedly one of the best athletes his sport has ever seen, he’s also a shrewd businessman and a genuinely great person to work with.” From Fanning’s perspective, it’s the perfect fit for his portfolio criteria of high-quality, performance-based products. “And besides,” he says, “who doesn’t want to drive around in luxury?” It’s certainly an upgrade from the ’81 Ford Laser he drove without a licence growing up on the Gold Coast. The youngest of five children, Fanning was born in Penrith in Sydney’s Western suburbs to British immigrants who separated when he was a toddler. The family moved 38 J U N E 2019 WISH
north, and although it was a struggle to make ends meet his mother Liz had an open-door policy, with a motley crew of promising grommets – many from broken families – constantly coming and going. The ocean was their backyard and ground zero for the most successful generation of surfing talent Australia had ever seen. Fanning was accidentally discovered by Torquay-based Quicksilver, which had come to scout his brother Sean, also a promising surfer. Poached in the late nineties by Rip Curl, the brothers – both of who dreamt of going pro – began competing in junior events, and a few years later Fanning earned a wildcard entry into the world championship contest at Bells Beach. (He came full circle by making the same event the last before his retirement.) The endorsements started to roll in and his career skyrocketed, a trajectory that ultimately saw him become one of the best surfers in history, with 22 Tour wins, 11 Top 5 finishes and three World Titles. It’s a remarkable CV, but it would be remiss to pigeonhole Fanning as just a carefree surfer dude. That he is, but he has also stared death in the face, all the while possessing a charming vulnerability. Out of the water, Fanning’s life has been marred by tragedy. There have been career-threatening injuries (on a trip to Indonesia in 2004 he ripped his hamstring muscle off the pelvic bone) and overwhelming grief. When he was just 17, his brother and hero Sean was killed in a car accident – news he had to deliver to his family. And in the cruellest of blows, he was informed of older brother Peter’s death just hours before competing at Hawaii’s Pipeline in 2015. The same year there was the well-documented shark incident that saw him fend off a white pointer in South Africa’s J-Bay on live television. The mainstream media went into meltdown, screening it on networks around the world (it currently sits at 25 million YouTube views).
“I didn’t even realise how big the story was,” says Fanning, who later donated the proceeds of an exclusive 60 Minutes interview to a shark attack victim. Globally, he went from sporting star to downright “bloody legend”, and further endeared himself to the public by candidly sharing his need for help in the aftermath. However, with a reputation for being perfect parts larrikin and genuine all-round nice guy, his place as a homegrown champion was cemented long before. Awarded an Order of Australia for services to surfing and various charities, he’s grateful, but it’s a shrug-your-shoulders kind of altruism. “I’ve been so blessed with the opportunities I’ve been given... it’s pretty easy to give back,” he says. “But it’s also very rewarding, especially when it comes to the children’s charity The Starlight Foundation. For me, I just take a kid surfing, but for their families, well, they just get so much joy out of it. It’s a good reality check.” It is with full sincerity that he admits to being an “open book” but when it comes to philanthropy, he prefers discretion. “I don’t necessarily want the media around when I visit the kids in hospital,” he says. “I just prefer it to be a personal journey. [The OA] was a huge honour but I don’t need the recognition. I’m happy to do it and it’s really fulfilling. I don’t need it plastered through the media.” Later in our conversation he gets a “hello” text from a longstanding friend in Africa whom he put through school. There is still a bucket list, but retirement suits Fanning well. He has comfortably settled into Bilinga, a quiet beachside suburb on the Gold Coast close to family and near Kirra and Snapper Rocks, where he surfed as a kid. And he’s inherited his mum’s open-door policy too. “My house is pretty full most of the time,” he says. “We just had a big swell a couple of weeks ago and I had about eight people here. We didn’t have a whole lot of money growing up, but Mum thought that if we were by the beach we’d be out of trouble. But when you put a whole bunch of 16-year-old kids together…” he trails off. Most of his mates date from those teenage years – the wild “Cooly Kids” who grew up on Coolangatta’s beaches, their raw talent a saving grace from a seemingly preordained life of limited possibilities. It was there that Fanning met prodigal talent Joel “Parko” Parkinson, the two sharing packs of two-minute noodles when money was tight. They rose through the ranks together, but their relationship was tested in 2009 when they went head to head at Hawaii’s Pipeline. And when Parkinson succumbed to injury, Fanning walked away with the World Title. “I wanted to celebrate but it felt really weird. Do I hug my friend or throw my hands in the air?” Fanning later told Parkinson during an In Conversation for Surfing World Magazine. “And the media were just trying to beat us up. I would say, are you kidding me? He’s my mate at the end of the day.” While Parkinson mourned privately, he publicly chaired his boyhood friend to the podium. Three years later, it was an overjoyed Fanning who raced into the water to bear-hug Parkinson after his first World Title win. “I was full of emotion, just sitting in the corner crying,” Fanning says. “It was one of the proudest moments I’ve ever been through ... [he] fought so hard.” Their camaraderie is rare for a solo sport, but both men shared a youth of doing it tough and their bond remains refreshingly unbreakable. Together with Parkinson, and their long-time friends and ex-pros Josh Kerr and Bede Durbidge, Fanning co-owns Balter, a prizewinning Currumbin-based craft brewery. “We pretty much just employed all our friends and the people we love working with,” he says. “I’m actually the lowest common denominator; I just steer clear. I’ve worked with a lot of these people in the past so there’s a mutual respect. We don’t let it get in the way of our friendships.” Does he have an office? “That’s my office there,” he says, gesturing towards the Coolangatta skyline, where he invests in real estate. It’s this ability to compartmentalise rivalry that’s so admirable, said his sporting adversary and world champion Kelly Slater at Fanning’s retirement party. “I think it’s good when there are guys who can leave it in the water, and Mick’s one of those guys,” Slater says. “Everyone gets in their little cliques, and everyone has their own little thing in different countries, [but] every guy on tour likes Mick Fanning.” It was a sentiment echoed by the surfing fraternity, and a challenge set by industry journalist Sean Doherty: “Good luck finding a bad word to say about [Mick] over the next couple of weeks.” Winding down from a lifetime dictated by rigorous tour schedules, Fanning is basking in day-to-day unpredictability. “I meditate four 40 J UN E 2019 WISH
THE SHARK INCIDENT SAW HIM GO from sporting star to downright ‘bloody legend’. hE FURTHER ENDEARED HIMSELF BY candidly sharing his need for help Fanning has settled into Bilinga on the Gold Coast, enjoying a life no longer dictated by rigorous schedules. Surfing has taken on a new meaning, he says, now that he has left behind the thrills – and occasional terrors, right – of competition
hours a day,” he confides straight-faced. Really? “Nah, just kidding!” he erupts, breaking into a grin. “When you compete, you have to be at 100 per cent every day. Even when don’t feel that great, you have to somehow find a way. It definitely takes its toll. Now I can just wake up and be wherever I am.” This has meant trips to Portugal to “wine and dine” and conservation work in Alaska. Next on the list is camping in South Australia. “I’m not really a big city guy, but in saying that I’m happy to spend a few days here and there,” he says. The water, however, is never far away. “By about day three or four I need to get to the beach, to breathe fresh air. Part of the reason I retired was to go and chase waves that if I got too old I’d be petrified to surf. How long that will last, who knows?” Anywhere specific? “Ahh, I can’t tell you,” he laughs, upholding the ultimate surfers’ code. Now that he’s no longer paddling out in a jersey, surfing has taken on new meaning too. “I can actually watch and enjoy [contests] for what they are without any pre-competition anxiety,” he says. “And I don’t surf every day anymore; I just go out whenever I want. If the waves are good I’ll be out there nonstop, but if not I’ll just potter around the house. My only real routine is taking the dog for a walk. I’m no longer on limited time, I can just go with the flow.” And as he told Parkinson, “I’m going searching bra, I’m going searching.”