Neil Luke in action. Photo: Ted Grambeau By Catherine Watson
LOOK at a photo of Neil Luke in action and you see the mastery of the man – and the mystery. A tiny human figure defying the superhuman forces of the ocean, he seems to barely touch the board as it slices through air and water.
An enigma, like the man himself. A kneeboarder in a surfing culture. A champion surfer and a top bloke. A Jehovah’s witness who surfed. When he discovered surfing he put the church on hold but in later years found a way to embrace worlds, spending several years as a missionary in Nicaragua, which also happens to have great surfing.
Neil’s old surfing mates gathered at Kitty Miller Bay on March 14 for a paddle-out. These days the hair is mostly white instead of sun-bleached blond, and the knees are stiff, but the stories are still about memorable days, the biggest breaks and how much fun it had all been.
LOOK at a photo of Neil Luke in action and you see the mastery of the man – and the mystery. A tiny human figure defying the superhuman forces of the ocean, he seems to barely touch the board as it slices through air and water.
An enigma, like the man himself. A kneeboarder in a surfing culture. A champion surfer and a top bloke. A Jehovah’s witness who surfed. When he discovered surfing he put the church on hold but in later years found a way to embrace worlds, spending several years as a missionary in Nicaragua, which also happens to have great surfing.
Neil’s old surfing mates gathered at Kitty Miller Bay on March 14 for a paddle-out. These days the hair is mostly white instead of sun-bleached blond, and the knees are stiff, but the stories are still about memorable days, the biggest breaks and how much fun it had all been.
The weather gods were smiling for the occasion, turning on a hot afternoon with barely a breeze to ripple the surface of the bay as the old comrades paddled out to celebrate the life of a surfing legend and friend.
Neil was 10 times Victorian Kneeboard Champion, a record so dominant that the contest was renamed in his honour. Fittingly the memorial was held the day before the 2025 Neil Luke Kneeboard Classic started at Surf Beach.
Neil was 10 times Victorian Kneeboard Champion, a record so dominant that the contest was renamed in his honour. Fittingly the memorial was held the day before the 2025 Neil Luke Kneeboard Classic started at Surf Beach.
Simon Chipper worked with Neil for many years at Island Surf Boards – Neil designing and shaping boards and Simon instructing as part of the surf school. He says Neil was not just one of the best kneeboarders in Victoria but one of the best surfers.
Stand-up surfers often made fun of the kneeboarders but it was hard to make fun of a man who took on the scariest waves and emerged from the tube with a beaming smile.
“You had to be a really good stand-up surfer to surf Express Point on Phillip Island, which is a pretty dangerous sort of a wave. But with a knee board, you're much closer to the board, so you could hang on to it. So a lot of the people that were surfing these fairly dangerous sort of waves were kneeboarders.
“Kneeboarding attracts people who like to do things their own way. It’s not a conventional way of surfing. But there’s a history of kneeboarding that dates back to the very start of high performance surfing.”
Simon recalls Neil as “a very funny dude and a lovely guy.” “We were a band of companions who bonded around surfing and all surfed together and went out drinking together and doing stuff that people did in the old days.”
Neil was renowned for designing custom-made boards and many of these were on display at the paddle-out. Mark Robertson, a kneeboarder in his late teens in the `70s, took along his favourite board
"The old kneeboards were always very colourful. Ten years ago they would have been thrown under the house and they're becoming valuable relics now and very collectible.
“It was great to see all the old boarders back together and comparing his designs. I wasn't up to going out so Simon Chipper took mine for the paddle out. It was good to see my board getting wet again.
Mark, who surfed mainly at Cape Paterson, describes kneeboarding as “a subculture of a subculture.”
“You’d be lucky if there were two knee boarders in the water when there were 20 guys out. It’s just a different way of doing things but yeah, we copped a bit from the stand-up surfers. We were called cripples. You all knew each other and they made a bit of fun of you but it wasn't too serious. It was better than getting beaten up by the petrol heads, which was the other subculture. You were either a skeghead or a petrol head.”
Mark said Neil’s paddle-out was a joyful occasion. “The hooded plovers were wandering past on the beach, the car park was full and there were all these old buggers hobbling into the water. It was perfect!”
Stand-up surfers often made fun of the kneeboarders but it was hard to make fun of a man who took on the scariest waves and emerged from the tube with a beaming smile.
“You had to be a really good stand-up surfer to surf Express Point on Phillip Island, which is a pretty dangerous sort of a wave. But with a knee board, you're much closer to the board, so you could hang on to it. So a lot of the people that were surfing these fairly dangerous sort of waves were kneeboarders.
“Kneeboarding attracts people who like to do things their own way. It’s not a conventional way of surfing. But there’s a history of kneeboarding that dates back to the very start of high performance surfing.”
Simon recalls Neil as “a very funny dude and a lovely guy.” “We were a band of companions who bonded around surfing and all surfed together and went out drinking together and doing stuff that people did in the old days.”
Neil was renowned for designing custom-made boards and many of these were on display at the paddle-out. Mark Robertson, a kneeboarder in his late teens in the `70s, took along his favourite board
"The old kneeboards were always very colourful. Ten years ago they would have been thrown under the house and they're becoming valuable relics now and very collectible.
“It was great to see all the old boarders back together and comparing his designs. I wasn't up to going out so Simon Chipper took mine for the paddle out. It was good to see my board getting wet again.
Mark, who surfed mainly at Cape Paterson, describes kneeboarding as “a subculture of a subculture.”
“You’d be lucky if there were two knee boarders in the water when there were 20 guys out. It’s just a different way of doing things but yeah, we copped a bit from the stand-up surfers. We were called cripples. You all knew each other and they made a bit of fun of you but it wasn't too serious. It was better than getting beaten up by the petrol heads, which was the other subculture. You were either a skeghead or a petrol head.”
Mark said Neil’s paddle-out was a joyful occasion. “The hooded plovers were wandering past on the beach, the car park was full and there were all these old buggers hobbling into the water. It was perfect!”
Neil Luke. Photo: Ted Grambeau