Molly Picklum On Aisle Seat Warfare, Beating The Red-Eye + Not Melting Down In Transit
The Australian Queen of Sunset’s guide to travel, courtesy of Creatures.
Made in partnership with Creatures of Leisure.
“Shit always goes wrong at airports,” puffs Molly Picklum. “Nothing ever goes smooth… and if it does? Pfft… good for you. A miracle.”
It’s a fitting worldview for someone who thrives in the least user-friendly setups on tour. In fact, Pickles often surfs best when the going gets rogue. Case in point: Sunset, where she landed the most cracked end-section turn the joint has ever seen in a jersey since Gary Elkerton laid down his greatest hits in ’87.
Not so much a snap as a full-bodied, knee-threatening, whitewater-slaying statement piece. She won the event. Twice. Back-to-back. And now that Sunset’s off the CT? She’ll remain its eternal queen until someone’s brave (or silly) enough to bring it back. (Unlikely.)
Molly grew up at North Shelly, a breeding ground that might as well be a WSL Fantasy Team in disguise: Hughie and Joel Vaughan, Shane Holmes, Macy Callaghan. She now holds court just up the road in Terrigal but still sees the nooks and crannies of the Central Coast as “pots of gold.” Her Boardriders Club won the ABB in 2023 for good reason — how often does a single postcode flex that much high-powered talent?
And while she’s got the resume — Olympian, CT winner (twice), Sunset destroyer — it’s Molly’s blend of relatability and playful doggedness that makes her so compelling. One moment she’s lovingly giving Caity Simmers shit poolside in Abu Dhabi (despite being on the wrong end of a 0–6 record), the next she’s hunting down former weak points — like backside tuberiding — and flipping them into defining strengths.
Which brings us to Pipe.
Molly’s podiumed there three times already: second to Moana at the VPM in ’23, second again in ’24, and third this year. You can feel it coming. Like watching someone try not to sneeze. She will be a Pipe Master. And from 2026 onwards it’ll be the season-ender — supercharged with 150% points potential — which you’d have to think suits her World Title ambitions.
Pickles has a bit of that dearly missed Taj Burrow energy — a cultural high-liner who somehow stays grounded despite grazing greener pastures. She laughs more than anyone else on tour. Rarely takes herself too seriously. But still leans into that furnace of competitive heat. She works. She improves. She never rests on what she’s already conquered.
She also loves proving people wrong — even when it comes to the Australian rite of mandatory morning brew. “I have this weird thing with coffee,” she shrugs. “Everyone’s like, ‘You need it.’ So I wanna prove that you don’t need it.”
Red Bull, on the other hand? Vital. Obviously.
Speaking of which: a perk of being on the Red Bull roster is that all athletes fly Business — unless they’re transiting through the “sketchier” corners of the world, where the sign ‘airport lounge’ is often code for ‘the one place without a drop dunny’.
“I’m learning not to have meltdowns,” she confesses, referring to the daylight robberies that plague pro surfers in transit. “I really don’t sleep on planes,” she says. “Which is annoying. I like the aisle seat so I can get up and walk around every half hour.” Headphones are her most essential travel item. Clearly, the ‘rawdogging flights’ trend has yet to infect CT’s upper crust.
And if you’re still unsure whether Pickles is the real deal, rewind to her showdown with Lakey Peterson at Sunset. Lakey claimed before their heat it was time to “put the grom in her place.” After winning the quarters, Molly fired one straight back over the net.
“The grom is in her place — she’s through to the semis.”
Sharper than a Hawaiian reef. And still ascending.
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