Winter had the exact opposite of a sting in the tail. A week that started with three cracking days at the southwest’s premier reef, documented here, followed after a sketchy 800-mile drive, in a long suffering Astravan that’s clutch is going the way of the dinosaurs, by another three days at the top of the island. It was a lucky mission as the wind forecast ended up being wrong and we scored an unexpected treat.
The dawny air temp was -1.5C before you even consider wind chill… and there was plenty of wind chill. This was the third morning, frosty wetsuits, a dead cold in the air and a storm brewing but a half hour window of glorious light offered itself before a front came through and blew everything to hell. I just had to swim. We only managed an hour as it was ridiculously cold… Totally worth it though.
The surfers, in order of appearance, Mark Boyd (one of his favourite waves of the winter), Ben Skinner & Markie Lascelles. Cover image Skippy Skilton. Skip missed a clip as I changed to stills for one wave but he got a hell seq for the mag…
Music: Silent Partner
Oh. And the trusty Astravan somehow made it home too…
