It’s the middle of summer and what a crazy one it’s been already – a 20-year-old nearly killed an ex-president in broad daylight, computers crashed round the world due to a dodgy update and strangest of all, England are world class at penalties! Weather over the UK and Ireland has been equally strange with the Atlantic jet stream bringing a convoy of wind and cooler weather, but not a whole pile of waves. With sails, kites, wings and foils in your quiver, there hasn’t been anything to complain about, but for anyone wanting a surf fix, you had to hunt for it! What I love about SUP is that I need little more than a ripple to keep me happy, but it is good to venture beyond the ankle-biters now and again!
Quest
And when I drive beyond the parish, it’s clear I’m not alone on my quest. Every year the number of motorhomes or surf wagons on the hunt for surf seems to increase, and with it, the number of free parking spaces at the beach decreases. It’s a pretty simple case of supply and demand economics, but it is interesting watching some of the consequences. The overhang of extra long wheelbase vans and campervans forced my local council to widen the footpath so people could navigate past their bumpers, but the extra space is now taken up by all the chairs, tables, sofas and chaise longues that ‘campers’ now seem unable to do without these days! Some people’s idea of back to basics seems to be an Ikea showroom with a bit more sand. Fair play to them though, it does look a lot comfier than my experience of camping which generally involved sleeping in a board bag while battling chronic condensation and trying to find somewhere to sit down that didn’t feature dog poo.
Encounters
Of course no amount of money spent on furnishings or the size of your mobile palace on wheels gives you any more rights on parking than the rust equipped chariot next to you, and in this way the democratic process works well. Where the metaphoric wheels do come off however is when citizens of the people’s republic of expensive motorhomes get creative with what constitutes a parking spot. There’s a subtle difference between getting away from it all and getting away with parking outside someone’s drive, using the bin that’s outside their drive to nonchalantly empty your rubbish into, and expecting to get away with it. There’s such a wealth of information on the Internet these days, it’s amazing how you can find your way to the sweetest spot with the best wind and waves using satellite technology, but one thing it doesn’t tell you is, it’s probably not a good idea to set up camp on the tarmac in front of the local farmer’s house, who likes to move people on with his telehandler first and ask questions later. After witnessing this very awkward encounter, I concluded a few things. Firstly, how big your motorhome is, is not always related to how much common sense you have, and people who don’t speak the same language, for example a German surfer and Irish farmer, can often communicate with hand signals, such as shaking fists; and finally, that large motorhomes can reverse at great speeds when required! With international affairs concluding hilariously, I turned my attention to more domestic affairs and wondered on where to surf to avoid the coastal chaos on my doorstep.
image [https://cdn.magzter.com/1350921236/1723190107/articles/P7of9UTFi1723206855931/YyHprTjIl1723206941569.jpg]
Economics
You see, like parking spaces, waves follow very simple economics of supply and demand. In a summer with few swells, everyone wants a wave, and today with some fun surf on offer, negotiations, discussions and unarmed combat just to get a wave wasn’t on my to do list. So, like many pilgrims before me, I journeyed. Except unlike many pilgrims, I didn’t have a hard or long journey and it wasn’t for religious reasons, though I did do it barefoot. If you’re wondering where I journeyed to, it wasn’t an exotic long haul island that involves 12 planes, 7 boats and remortgaging your house to get to. It was somewhere far closer and at much less cost, yet as quiet as your average Pacific atoll. It was, and there’s no need to write this down, as the name is quite easy to remember, ‘down the beach’. This isn’t a nod by the way to the easily offended secret spot police who lynch readily anyone who remotely clues within 500 miles of their cherished spot. I genuinely don’t have a name for this spot, as there is no name. It’s irrelevant anyway as the location is universal. Find a long surf beach with limited vehicle access, and keep walking with your board until you find your empty peak. I know it sounds too simple to be true, but in my experience the crowd factor at most breaks is directly related to how easy they are to access. The closer to the car park, the greater the crowd. Of course feel free to paddle down the beach too, if you prefer the aquatic route. I just fancied walking to breathe in the decadence of going surfing for the day instead of working and letting my thoughts wander with me.
image [https://cdn.magzter.com/1350921236/1723190107/articles/P7of9UTFi1723206855931/T3caJk68L1723206954940.jpg]
Darwin famously had his ‘sandwalk’ near his home in Kent, which he called his ‘thinking path’, and whilst I wasn’t able to postulate as greatly as the theory of evolution, I was able to muse on other matters, like how much easier a carbon SUP is to carry than a non-carbon one! After a good session of back-to-back waves, and enjoying the novelty of catching any wave I wanted in a conveyor belt of hedonistic pleasure, I spotted another SUP’r paddling my way. Clearly I had inadvertently sent a smoke signal that pointed to my own personal wave pool. We exchanged smiling nods, both acknowledging that we had found, for an hour or so at least, the meaning of life, and I left him to enjoy it on his own, not wanting to double date the same waves. I retraced my path home, I probably still wasn't close to the recommended 10,0...
Quest
And when I drive beyond the parish, it’s clear I’m not alone on my quest. Every year the number of motorhomes or surf wagons on the hunt for surf seems to increase, and with it, the number of free parking spaces at the beach decreases. It’s a pretty simple case of supply and demand economics, but it is interesting watching some of the consequences. The overhang of extra long wheelbase vans and campervans forced my local council to widen the footpath so people could navigate past their bumpers, but the extra space is now taken up by all the chairs, tables, sofas and chaise longues that ‘campers’ now seem unable to do without these days! Some people’s idea of back to basics seems to be an Ikea showroom with a bit more sand. Fair play to them though, it does look a lot comfier than my experience of camping which generally involved sleeping in a board bag while battling chronic condensation and trying to find somewhere to sit down that didn’t feature dog poo.
Encounters
Of course no amount of money spent on furnishings or the size of your mobile palace on wheels gives you any more rights on parking than the rust equipped chariot next to you, and in this way the democratic process works well. Where the metaphoric wheels do come off however is when citizens of the people’s republic of expensive motorhomes get creative with what constitutes a parking spot. There’s a subtle difference between getting away from it all and getting away with parking outside someone’s drive, using the bin that’s outside their drive to nonchalantly empty your rubbish into, and expecting to get away with it. There’s such a wealth of information on the Internet these days, it’s amazing how you can find your way to the sweetest spot with the best wind and waves using satellite technology, but one thing it doesn’t tell you is, it’s probably not a good idea to set up camp on the tarmac in front of the local farmer’s house, who likes to move people on with his telehandler first and ask questions later. After witnessing this very awkward encounter, I concluded a few things. Firstly, how big your motorhome is, is not always related to how much common sense you have, and people who don’t speak the same language, for example a German surfer and Irish farmer, can often communicate with hand signals, such as shaking fists; and finally, that large motorhomes can reverse at great speeds when required! With international affairs concluding hilariously, I turned my attention to more domestic affairs and wondered on where to surf to avoid the coastal chaos on my doorstep.
image [https://cdn.magzter.com/1350921236/1723190107/articles/P7of9UTFi1723206855931/YyHprTjIl1723206941569.jpg]
Economics
You see, like parking spaces, waves follow very simple economics of supply and demand. In a summer with few swells, everyone wants a wave, and today with some fun surf on offer, negotiations, discussions and unarmed combat just to get a wave wasn’t on my to do list. So, like many pilgrims before me, I journeyed. Except unlike many pilgrims, I didn’t have a hard or long journey and it wasn’t for religious reasons, though I did do it barefoot. If you’re wondering where I journeyed to, it wasn’t an exotic long haul island that involves 12 planes, 7 boats and remortgaging your house to get to. It was somewhere far closer and at much less cost, yet as quiet as your average Pacific atoll. It was, and there’s no need to write this down, as the name is quite easy to remember, ‘down the beach’. This isn’t a nod by the way to the easily offended secret spot police who lynch readily anyone who remotely clues within 500 miles of their cherished spot. I genuinely don’t have a name for this spot, as there is no name. It’s irrelevant anyway as the location is universal. Find a long surf beach with limited vehicle access, and keep walking with your board until you find your empty peak. I know it sounds too simple to be true, but in my experience the crowd factor at most breaks is directly related to how easy they are to access. The closer to the car park, the greater the crowd. Of course feel free to paddle down the beach too, if you prefer the aquatic route. I just fancied walking to breathe in the decadence of going surfing for the day instead of working and letting my thoughts wander with me.
image [https://cdn.magzter.com/1350921236/1723190107/articles/P7of9UTFi1723206855931/T3caJk68L1723206954940.jpg]
Darwin famously had his ‘sandwalk’ near his home in Kent, which he called his ‘thinking path’, and whilst I wasn’t able to postulate as greatly as the theory of evolution, I was able to muse on other matters, like how much easier a carbon SUP is to carry than a non-carbon one! After a good session of back-to-back waves, and enjoying the novelty of catching any wave I wanted in a conveyor belt of hedonistic pleasure, I spotted another SUP’r paddling my way. Clearly I had inadvertently sent a smoke signal that pointed to my own personal wave pool. We exchanged smiling nods, both acknowledging that we had found, for an hour or so at least, the meaning of life, and I left him to enjoy it on his own, not wanting to double date the same waves. I retraced my path home, I probably still wasn't close to the recommended 10,0...
You're reading a preview of
Sup International (Digital) - 1 Issue, Issue 44 - Mid Summer 2024