The sad news of Shane Herring’s passing started filling everyone’s socials on Sunday. It was gutting. The iconic Aussie surfer had a fall in his Byron Bay home. He’d been sober the last few years, there seems nothing untoward, other than a tragic home mishap. Something so incredibly mundane to halt a crazy life of excesses and amazing surfing talent.
I’m loathed to insert myself into this tragedy. My role in this is infinitely miniscule. As is always the case, legends leave a lasting mark, us side players are merely there to facilitate. Obviously I’m about to insert and contextualise why I’m writing about Shane, so here goes.
[This would have been to place I popped the photo in of Budge and Shane sitting in Budge's Grey Nissan Bluebird]
In 1995 Chris ‘Budge’ Berge and I were tasked with hosting Shane for a month while he competed in the Raglan Billabong WQS and the following NZ leg of the Aussie Circuit. Chris was NZ Surf Mag’s Editor and I was the Mag Ad Guy- slash- Photog. The brief was, ‘Shane was making a comeback and he was on the bones of his arse. Could we host him, get him to the comps and try to keep him somewhat on the rails.’ Both Budgey and I were thrilled and fanboying out at the idea of hosting Herro, the Aussie answer to Slater. What we were about to find out was that we’d been given a handful. Shane wasn’t doing so well, chain smoking darts and always up for a bender. I didn’t understand what addiction was in ’95, I thought he was a legend that was into partying hard and that suited me just fine…. effectively Shane and I went on a month long party tour with some photos, surfing and heats chucked in.
[and this where my photo of Shane doing a backhand slash at Indies would have sat...I suspect that shot of Sean Davy's on the rainbow board is from the Raglan WQS 95]
There was a time, a long time, where I thought that was awesome, Me, Budge and Herro haunting the Bars til closing, then somehow getting Herro to his first heat and him decimating the field even at half power. Herro power chucking in my kitchen sink then grabbing another beer. Yeah Rock’n Roll Man. For a longer time I’ve found the whole thing cringeworthy. We…I, failed Shane miserably.
Even through the blur and haze of booze and whatever other substances were handed to us, there were moments of clarity and real chats. You don’t live out of someone’s pocket on tour for 5 weeks without real life popping up to time to time. Shane was a really struggling with fame, he didn’t want it.
Again, I feel like I need to preface with I am utterly aware of my place in the world, I totally accept I’m a blip- maybe a blimp, dieting currently. The point being I consciously assert and believe I’m a sidebar, a recanter and little more.
Starting at the magazine in ’93 I wanted to have some sort of division between Craig Levers and my photos, but also I wanted to kickback against the vogue, on trend photo credits which was to elongate and get as much info into the credit. So I insisted on simply CPL as my photo credit, it is my initials- that’s all it is, photo: CPL . It backfired on me, instead of creating a bit of division and a bit of anonymity, it created a mystery, that crew wanted to find out who CPL was. Also I got a bit gutted when a solid CPL photo got published in the mag and people didn’t put 2 and 2 together. You can’t have it both ways right? So by ’95, in our little NZ surfing bubble both Budge and I were becoming quite well known, the magazine was going gangbusters. Prior to ’93 I wasn’t CPL, I was Craig, suddenly I’m CP, Seepage…Seal P.L, CPR… it became quite a defining thing, at surf events and parties if someone started the convo’ “Hey Craig” I knew it was a mate, ‘Hey CPL” I thought it was work related.
Yes, a minor, first world, existential problem to have. But in 1995 I really wasn’t dealing with notoriety in that NZ Surfing bubble very well at all. I started drinking more. Dutch courage.
Enter Shane Herring, we talked about fame a lot, his fame, how he was pigeonholed into riding rockered out concaves [that he hated] that he knew people wanted to meet ‘Herro’ they didn’t give a shit about ‘Shane’. Shane, the guy that had the real, waaayyy upscaled problem, gently mentored me. He could identify the issue, talk about it, but neither of us had the right tools to deal with it. There was the easy tool, like a lot of people that suffer from addiction, Shane was using substances to sidestep the problems. Something we most definitely were partners in crime in.
Shane was a gentle soul, a good bugger that really cared about people around him. Even on that toxic ’95 tour he’d check in with different mates and ask them; really ask them, how they were going. In ’95 the surfing talent was being cloaked by excesses on tour, but every once in a while Shane would find a section and the rail would engage at such speed and grace. There were glimpses of Herro.
It would be sad to think that the years of Shane’s life were simply in the wake of a couple of crazy surfboard riding contest results, of heaped on expectations that broke the camel’s back. I hope that Shane had reconciled that weight in these last few years of sobriety. I’m so sorry I wasn’t a better host Shane. Rest In Peace mate.
