I’ve been asked a few times over the last few weeks whether I’m missing the waves and as odd as it may seem, I’ve not really had a proper answer. While Evie and I were on the road I didn’t miss it as we were so wrapped up in the trip and the fun to give it much thought; then once I got back I had a couple of frantic weeks sorting everything out and getting ready to start work again that the time just flew by. Granted, I’d check the surf forecast fairly regularly throughout July but as no great swell was on it was easily dismissed and so it wasn’t until Harriet had headed off to France with a friend to a surf camp that I started to think about it a bit more. Then in the run-up to the weekend of 27th/28th July www.magicseaweed.com started predicting 3-5ft waves and I found my interest was piqued.
I’d not made mention of surfing during the week as plans were already in place for a bike ride for the Saturday and had thought to keep the Sunday relatively free. However, having woken earlyish on the Sunday morning, I checked the forecast again and although it had dropped slightly to 2-4ft I didn’t need much prompting to grab the board from wall, bung it in the car with my wetsuit and head off round to Dunbar.
The weather was a little overcast and dull, in other words fairly typical for here and once changed I walked the half mile from the car park over the saltmarsh and dunes to the beach. At first glance the waves did not seem to be in the predicted range and the 10 or 12 other folk out were not having much luck catching anything. However, having come this far, I was not about to stop, so I attached my leash, entered the water and paddled out. I was very pleased to find that within a very short space of time I was out beyond the breaking water, with far fewer strokes than expected and with not a lot of exertion. Clearly I’d remembered my hard won paddling technique. First blood to me I thought!
I didn’t have to wait long for my first ride, having spotted it coming a 100 metres or so away. I headed towards the peak, turned, paddled, felt the surge and was up and away along a lovely left-hander all the way to the beach. The temptation to raise my arms to the sky and woop was just to great. So I did. The kook returns! 😊
I stayed out for about two and half hours, which is a lot longer than I usually do at Dunbar as the cold has normally seeped through by then, but I was having so much fun I just didn’t notice it. Even when the waves dropped in the last hour and conditions got all mushy I still stayed out and managed to catch way more than my normal share. I wouldn’t say I caught the most that day, but I certainly got a lot and many of them were really good, long, satisfying rides. When I finally came in, the walk back to the car park felt longer and more tiring than usual, but the smile on my face was as wide as a barn door and sense of wellbeing and joy was unmatched.
Yup, that’s right, I’d missed it.