King’s Day – the traditional start of Spring in the Netherlands.
7am – I’m sitting in the Departure Lounge at Schipol Airport, the end of another epic trip to Holland, a week of striking followed by a two-day cultural extravaganza in Amsterdam.
Our flight departs in 45mins, and we land in Bristol at 9.30. I’ll be on court ripping backhands in London by 1.30.
I can hear the ocean calling me – I haven’t surfed for 10 days.
The waves have been pumping at home. I surfed every day in January followed by an arctic adventure to Ireland in February. March started in Kernow and ended with a 3-day strike mission traversing super hollow close-outs in Portugal. The swell continued into April, one low pressure after another pounding the Cornish coastline – the real “surfers paradise”.
I had two sick days at the cove last week. The cove is a secret spot, it only breaks a few times a year and it needs loads of swell, light offshores and a massive tide to break.
It was fluke that I surfed it on the first day. I only went there because everywhere else was super busy. As I pulled up in the car I could see finely groomed lines stacked to the horizon. Walking across the field to the cliff edge, I was greeted with a head high set of right-hand perfection unloading on the sandbank out the back. I surfed all morning and only 3 other people paddled out : sick !!
Day 2 was the same but bigger, a rip had formed creating a channel that ran from the shoreline to the take off spot. I was the first one in. As soon as I got out the back a set appeared on the horizon, it was overhead. I waited and watched trying to decide which wave to take. The first one went by and as the second one wedged in front of me I could see number three cresting behind, it had my name all over it. I turned, paddled and jumped to my feet. Dropping down the face I could feel my twinny accelerate. As I drove through the bottom turn and headed back up the crystal blue canvas, the lip greeted me. I leaned back and the nose of my board floated across the top of it. Looking back down I felt my fins release. Two seconds later I was carving through another high speed bottom turn and racing into a realm of aquatic wonder, yeehaa !!!
Next week we’re at the University and then it’s off to Spain for our first 2022 clay court training camp. By the time this blog is live we’ll have returned to the UK sunburnt and playing massive.
July and August – we’re back in the Cartagena dust bowl ripping on the red hot Mercian dirt followed by a summer adventure to the Emerald Isle.
PUMPING !!
