Bomb Scare: a rare big, clean swell off Sydney, from Foiling Magazine

This feature first appeared in Foiling Magazine issue 28 (June 2026) as "Bomb Scare", in the magazine's Outer Banks section, short stories of high adventure. Words Matt Davies, photos Rod Soares. Republished with the magazine's kind permission.

With the charts tentatively lining up for a world class backyard session, Matt Davies made the most of it by getting prepared and out into it nice and early. The reward was a swell that delivered and continued to deliver, right up until his jet ski called time…

We'd been tracking this swell for about 10 days. Watching every update, every chart, every shift in the forecast. At one point it looked like it was going to head towards New Zealand and miss us completely – a heartbreaker after watching it build for so long. But slowly, the models started to change. Each day it edged a little closer, a little more west, until it became clear – this thing was going to land right on our doorstep.

The anticipation was building all week. You know that feeling when you just know something special is coming? That was it. The kind of swell that doesn't come around often, especially for Sydney. And even rarer, the conditions were lining up to be clean – that alone was enough to get the heart rate up.

At first light, Matt Grainger and I met at the ramp. It was one of those early mornings where everything just feels right – glassy water, barely any wind, and that quiet buzz of knowing what might be out there. Before we even launched, we could already see waves breaking way out the back of Northy (North Narrabeen). Proper out there, bigger than anything you'd normally expect to see from the ramp. That was all we needed.

We punched out through the shorebreak, timing it between sets, and once we were clear, we headed straight out. No hesitation. As we got further offshore, it just kept getting more real – the ocean had that energy, long period lines stacking up, marching in with intent. Then we got into position… and we were on.

For at least an hour, it was just us. No crowds, no chaos – just clean, powerful lines rolling through. Every wave had shape, had size, had that proper push behind it. The kind of waves where you don't have to force anything – you just commit, and it does the rest.

Every so often we'd look further out and see the swell hitting a place called Black Road. This place breaks maybe every five to ten years, sitting at least another kilometer out from where we were – and we were already around 700 meters offshore. When you could see waves breaking out there, you knew something serious was on the way. You'd watch it hit Black Road… then wait. About a minute later, the same energy would arrive underneath you. And when it did, it was game on.

Those sets had that extra punch. Bigger, cleaner, more organized. You could feel the period in them, feel the power building as they approached. Every time we saw one break out there, you'd look at each other and just know this is gonna be a good one. And it always was. Every wave a banger, no wasted rides, no dodgy ones. Just proper, quality surf – the kind of session where everything lines up and you don't want it to end.

After a while, a few other mates started to show up – some on skis, a few paddlers keen enough to get amongst it. It added to the vibe. Everyone was charging, everyone frothing. No egos, just good energy all around, sharing waves, calling each other into bombs, hooting from the channel. Those are the sessions you remember.

Then things shifted a bit. A shark sighting came through – not chaos, but enough. You could feel the mood change. The paddlers made the call pretty quickly and headed in. Fair call, being that far out, sitting low in the water. We kept an eye on things but stayed out. It's always in the back of your mind out there anyway.

Not long after, the other jet ski broke down, and just like that the numbers dropped again. Suddenly we had it to ourselves, once more. That feeling is hard to beat. A swell of that size, those conditions, barely anyone out – it almost doesn't feel real. You take a second, look around, and soak it in. The open ocean, the lines on the horizon, the sound of waves detonating out the back. So good.

We kept trading waves, pushing each other, making the most of every set that came through. No rush, no pressure – just enjoying it for what it was. One of those rare days where everything comes together perfectly. Eventually the wind started to shift, the sets became less consistent, and the moment slowly faded. But by then it didn't matter. We'd already scored more than enough.

After getting caught on the inside jumping wave after wave, my ski kicked into Eco Mode and the engine light came on. Not an ideal situation in big surf, but I was able to quickly run it up the beach. Luckily we know the lifeguards on duty, one of them being Matt Grainger's daughter, Bella. We had the ski towed to the tower and later picked up with my ute.

I was so stoked to be part of such a special day. It's very rare to get swell that big in Sydney, and even rarer to get it with clean, smooth conditions. When it all lines up – the swell direction, the period, the wind – it creates something pretty unique. It was one of those sessions that sticks with you, and one you'll be talking about for a long time.

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Read more from Foiling Magazine, and find issue 28 online.