Goodbye, Mark C

Shattered. Absolutely, shattered. Tears.

A friend had to leave us today.

A surfer had to leave us today.

A good person had to leave us today.

Goodbye, Mark C.

Mark C has written to me for a number of years. He began when I had my humble little blog called Blownglass. Mark C then supported Kurungabaa from its first imagining. He was fantastic, and always generous in sharing his world of ethics, creativity, dreams and surfing. Many times Mark C inspired writing and ideas for the ‘baa. It won’t be the same without him. A special era ends here. A lesser ‘baa moves on. I will never forget his advice to the ‘baa to always glide gracefully and ethically. We will, Mark C.

Our hearts are with Mark’s family and friends.

I am off to sit and look at the sea and say goodbye, and think about this beautiful eulogy Mark C’s dear friend Sofjan has sent in.

For Mark C by Sofjan Hughes

Mark C at Dreamlands, 2004 - Rest In Peace

It’s 5am and I forward the sms: “coffee club is open”. The usual ping-pong banter follows: “Mate…already surfed Ulus, didn’t see you out there” (response) “That’s because I was getting so shacked from Temples to the Track mate”. I unlock the front gate, fire up the atomic, throw on ‘Morning of the earth’ (for the millionth time) and load the toaster. This was the ever familiar ritual I shared with my sometimes Bali neighbor and all round best mate. I never thought this relationship would ever end, but it did with cancer – on August 20th at 9.40am Sydney time.

After caffeine, theories and a few chuckles, the boards are loaded and we make for the local. It’s still dark and only a few hardworking men and women populate this dimly lit landscape. Tearing down the road, we eventually we arrive at the peak, welcomed by a pack of howling dogs closely guarding a pile of scraps. The moonlit waves look solid, everyone’s still asleep – it’s going be another perfect day. Walking down to the sand, we make fresh footprints, witnessing yet another perfect set charge through. Not a breath of wind as we enter the water, it feels warm as it washes over us. Can’t stop smiling as I see yet more perfect waves rolling in, completely vacant – unmolested. It’s early season, Australia’s strict travel warnings are still in force, the place is a ghost town – it feels like 1975.

When I reflect on such epic sessions like this one, I realize we didn’t fully appreciate the extent of our good fortune. Being so completely immersed in this glorified re-boot of our adolescent dreams, both of us made the mistake of assuming it would last forever – but nothing ever does. We were just living in the moment. During these years, I’d often imagined the texture of our evolving futures, trading waves, watching the kids grow, building that house, riffing on our life’s work and reclining into the life long dream of a paradise shared. But sadly that’s never going to happen – that part of the vision is gone forever. And with it goes the soul of a great surfer and an even greater friend.

Mark C, may you rest in peace my brother and be forever gliding across the face of that once beautiful dream.

Balinese ceremony for Mark via Sofjan:


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