Surf Nation

This Blog is in Dorset, and Old Harry, He Rocks

This blog is in Dorset, home of both a nearly finished artificial reef at Boscombe, Bournemouth and a very fine natural one at Kimmeridge. I can say nothing about either in terms of surfing, having tried to surf Kimmeridge many years ago only to find it not working, and having yet to paddle out at the new reef (which, I'm told, has made a difference to wave quality even though it's not finished). Instead, though, I can confirm that in terms of other watersports, this place has it all. Yesterday I spent three hours kayaking from Hamworthy to Arne Heath and back, courtesy of Poole Harbour Watersports, a top little trip which was fairly knackering. Then I took a jetski (my top speed: 49 m.p.h) out to Old Harry's Rocks, this thanks to JetSki Safaris. The sea was mirror-calm which meant that, as per my surfing, unless it's with Aerial Attack, getting air was not part of the experience, but hurtling across the sea at speed was (and yes, I too had reservations about jetskis) an absolute blast.

My younger son, Elliot, loved both the kayaking and riding on the back of the instructor's jetski, while Harry had to sit out most of the kayaking and all of the jetski experience owing to a touch of 'flu (hopefully not of the swinish variety). Mrs W meanwhile made straight for the nearest spa.

But why is all this happening? Why aren't we in our usual habitat of West Penwith? Why aren't I having nice chats with Jill Pierre in the line-up before consciously trying to take Stef Harkon's head off with my longboard? Work, dear readers, work. Work brings us here, for all of the Times, Coast magazine, Pit Pilot and a Time out special supplement on the countryside. Today we're off to Brownsea Island, where Enid Blyton either wrote or set (or both) her Famous Five books. Tomorrow we're going wakeboarding. I have a feeling I know which one the kids will like best.

Image of Old Harry's Rocks courtesy of Edward Bentley. 

Axel 'Deadly' Dawe: 'The Kooks May Inherit The Earth'

Here's a piece I penned for the latest issue of Pit Pilot on Axel 'Deadly' Dawe, an underground charger if ever there was one.

Legend, n. A person having a special place in public esteem because of striking qualities or deeds, real or fictitious.

Some surfers wear their exploits loud and proud, but there are others who hide their light under a bushel. Shining brightest in this category is one of the UK’s foremost chargers, Axel ‘Deadly’ Dawe.

“I’ve never liked the nickname,” says Dawe, who, in the mid-Seventies, swore that by the time he was 43 he’d have surfed every surf spot in the UK. “I was christened ‘Deadly’ after a session at Leven in ’83. It was big, sure, but I don’t think what I did that day was anything special.”

Dawe’s exploits at Porthleven in the summer of 1983, aged 17, have gone down in surfing folklore. He rode the south coast reef at seven times overhead, with no one else out, and has the scars to prove it. His face has a livid, deep red line running from his left eye to his chin, the result of a fin lacerating him on a wipeout. The same session saw a different fin tear open his backside. He shrugs off these injuries as “all part of what goes with being a surfer. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dark-haired Dawe was born in Birmingham but moved to a secret spot in Cornwall when he was five. To this day, he has never told anyone where it is. “That’s the code,” he says. “If I talk about it, people will be all over the place like a rash.” But respect for his parents also plays a part in his diffidence. “Dad was an international diamond thief and Mum used to launder his money,” he says. “When they moved to Cornwall Dad made me and my seven sisters swear we’d never tell anyone where we lived. It’s a killer spot so I didn’t mind.”

By his early teens Dawe was to be found ripping at any number of UK breaks. Thanks to a witness protection scheme, his parents adopted new identities. Dawe’s father became a Maths teacher in Mousehole while his mother worked as a chiropractor in Croyde. Dawe says that parental job dislocation helped his surfing. “I was constantly shuttling back and forth between Sennen and Saunton,” he says. “It was impossible for me not to rip.”

At 43, Dawe is one of those surfers you see turn up and shred, but you can’t quite place who he is or where’s he from. That’s just the way he likes it. “I know who I am, what I did and what I didn’t do, and that’s enough for me,” he says.

But Dawe has made evanescent appearances in surfing magazines. Speaking to him in a Penzance café, he showed me old copies of Carve and Wavelength, as well as the newer mags such as Pit Pilot and Slide. Time and again Dawe is tearing it up – and every time the caption follows a predictable pattern: “Unknown ripper at Fistral”, “Unidentified charger at Thurso East” or simply “Exactly who is this man?”

Dawe, dressed in golf slacks, allowed himself a rare smile as I flicked through the magazines. He looks fit and healthy, if a little overweight, and has the deep, weathered tan of the dedicated surfer. “I’ll surf til I die,” he says. With his scar helplessly contorting as he speaks, Dawe looks menacing, and yet his blue eyes betray a curious vulnerability. I can’t help but wonder: what prompted his strange quest to surf every British wave by the time he was 43? And how has he fared?

"My Dad was 43 when he gave up stealing diamonds,” is his reply. “I fell in love with British waves and knew that the surf would never be better, wherever I went. I decided to nail every wave by the time I was 43 to honour my Dad.” Fair enough, but doesn’t he ever fancy a trip to France or Portugal, or further afield, to Indo or California?

“Maybe,” he says, “but I’ve still got 47.8% of UK waves left to surf.”

I suggest that, for a man who has spent his life surfing domestic waves, he’s still got a long way to go. Perhaps he’s failed to honour his Dad? Dawe smiles at me contemptuously. “You have no idea. We’ve got world class gems in all kinds of nooks and crannies.”

With that, Axel Dawe is gone. A bejewelled and yet lonely, haunted man – he has never married, and sources say the incident at Leven when he was 17 injured more than just his face and rectum – he walks away, without a backward glance. As I reflect on my encounter with the UK's most hardcore twin fin underground surfer, a well-known surf writer arrives. “Wasn’t that Axel ‘Deadly’ Dawe?” he says. Having been granted a rare audience with British surfing’s most mysterious charger, I opt for silence.

Later, I leave the café thinking of the nice waitresses and then, just as I am about to play a The Illinois Enema Bandit by Frank Zappa, Dawe’s famous saying hits me: “The kooks may inherit the earth - but they can fuck off if they think they’re having the waves.”

Pictured courtesy of Mikolaj Molenda: a surfer on the kind of wave that Axel would eat as an appetizer for breakfast - before having bacon and eggs.

Settled, at last, in Mousehole

It's been a while since I've posted here but this time psychological disequilibrium is not the reason for my absence. Instead, a house move, from Porthcurno to Mousehole, has occupied my time. This saw me become less Wrecking Machine and more Lifting Machine as I did the move with Ben Smart, half brother to Sam, and another lad called J. This saved me a small fortune in removal costs (many thanks lads), the cheapest quote I obtained from the big boys for a five-mile move along the Cornish coast being £2,400. I'm also indebted to long-time local surfer and Mousehole gallery owner Ben Marshall and his wife Beki who answered my plea over the last, agonising 45 minutes of the move. Ben helped shift a couple of seriously heavy pieces of furniture when Ben Smart and I were dead on our feet. Given that our new place is up a lane with no parking, he was a major help.

However, we're settled now and it's great to be in a place with a bit of life. As I've had occasion to mention before, Porthcurno is beautiful - exquisitely so - but it's not the most family friendly destination in the world. I reckon the Wade clan will be a lot happier here and already we've done our fair share of (safe) pier jumping, rowing and the like. Importantly from the kids' point of view, skateboarding does not appear to be treated as an imprisonable offence.

There have also been some great waves in the usual places lately but talking of waves, check out this footage from the recent Gathering at Kimmeridge co-ordinated by SAS. Get involved and help save Broadbench. And finally, if it's flat and you live down here - or even if you're just here on holiday - don't forget the Jubilee Pool in Penzance - a truly wonderful place.

Image of Mousehole, famously described by Dylan Thomas as "the prettiest village in England" (he came here on honeymoon, I think), courtesy of Flickr user davidstephenson.