Surf Nation

Why We Love Seals

Seals. I love 'em. I explain why in today's column in The Times.

Photo: Lincs UK.

It's a Bore. But for how much longer?

 
The plan to build a barrage across the River Severn and thereby harness the tide to generate up to 5% of the UK's electricity needs edges closer to formal acceptance. The plans are to be the subject of a public consultation, with a final decision taken by 2010.

If the barrage gets the green light (no pun intended), it'll be the world's biggest-ever renewable energy project at what is surely a conservative estimate of £20bn.

The barrage is motivated by good intentions. It's high time we looked for renewable energy resources, and the tide is about as renewable as it gets. But there's a downside. Building a barrage will inevitably decimate the habitats of the river's denizens. And it'll also ruin the Severn Bore.

The Bore is a magical, wondrous freak of nature. I've only surfed it the once but I'll never forget it. There are surfers who live their lives around the Bore, and their lives, too, will be shattered if the barrage is built.

What should surfers think about building the barrage?

Sliding out of the line-up

Here's a shot of me by Jim Wileman, a North Devon-based snapper. It was taken for the FT Magazine's recent 'Better Skate Than Never' piece, and, at first blush, indicates that I am still, despite my advancing years, capable of the occasional display of athleticism.

Sadly, the truth is otherwise, especially right now. No sooner do I lament the extraordinary number of surfers in the water at one South Coast break on Monday than I come down with the flu. Not ManFlu but the proper, sweating, shivering, high performance flu that means that I won't be adding to the crowds for probably a week at least. I certainly won't be sparring with Sam Smart as planned for Friday night, because that'd be suicide (it's bad enough anyway, but with flu? No chance).

Talking of Sam, he was robbed in Gloucester the other night, and has the video evidence to prove it. He'll be back, but as for me, I'm putting my slippers on, making a Lemsip, and wondering if it's time to take up a new sport. Bowls, for example. Those white suits look splendid.

Where did all the people come from?

Today I surfed a south coast break which was blessed with very nice, clean head high waves. Unfortunately the place was so rammed that I only got one wave, got fed up after an hour and came in.

Where did everyone come from? I mean, it was a Monday afternoon! Haven't they got jobs they should be doing?

I know that, with a more aggressive approach, I could have had a few more waves. But I don't like being aggressive in the water, and except on rare occasions, like when I forget, I respect the drop-in rule. So today, where some surfers would have thought 'Who cares whether there's someone on the wave, I haven't had one for 25 minutes so I'm taking off too, may the best man win' I constantly paddled, looked, saw that someone had priority and backed off.

As I said afterwards to a couple of surfers from my neck of the woods, I'd rather surf average or rubbish surf with hardly anyone in the water than good surf which is packed. They both agreed.

So, here's a resolution to add to those for 2009 already made: I will get up early, I will walk that extra mile, I will climb down cliffs and paddle out at sketchy and perilous breaks, if it means I can keep the crowd count to 10 and less. It's got to be worth it. Hasn't it?

The photo, of Manley, is courtesy of Travelling Surfers. I'm not joking when I say that a certain place beginning with 'P' looked very similar today, in January, on a work day. Honestly, you'd think that the UK had an embedded, hardcore surf culture or something.

The truth is out. I am a woman.

I can hide the truth no more. All the surfing, all the pugilism, all the poker, all the mountaineering, all the conventionally masculine activities I've indulged in over the years (including having children and being a hardcore Dad) are merely a disguise. I am a woman (here are my legs, after surfing Marazion, in Mick and Allie's van today).

That, at least, is what I discovered when reading Martin Hesp's article on linguistic infelicities on page 10 of the Western Morning News today. Martin wrote a week ago of daft phrases which irked him and readers of the WMN. A lively debate was had by all, with terms such as "absolutely" and "hacked off" deservedly getting a hammering, but Martin erred in one sentence. He wrote - and, yes, dear readers, this is shocking - "to coin a phrase many of you don't like". Trouble is, Martin didn't coin a phrase in his copy, he merely repeated an existing one. I was in a slighly mischevious mood and felt like joining the debate, so I e-mailed and pointed this out.

Here's what Martin wrote on page 10 of the WMN today:

Alex Wade e-mails to say she is a professional writer. "As such, I hope you won't mind me pointing out a linguistic infelicity perpetrated by your good self," she says.

Oh dear. And Alex is right to correct me. "You write 'to coin a phrase'," she advises. "This sounds innocuous but is wrong. You can only 'coin a phrase' if you invent it. Your usage merely repeats the use of an existing (and annoying) term, and so is not 'coining' a phrase."

So there you go. The secret's out. I am a woman. And a pedantic one at that.

Pictured: another woman, who calls herself 'Martin'. As if!

The Coaster

Today sees the start of a new column I'm writing for The Times. It's called 'The Coaster' and appears in a new-look 'Weekend' section. The paper has had a major makeover and, I reckon, looks pretty slick.

Today's introductory column, which you can find by clicking here, asks a simple question: why are we so captivated by the sea? Readers of this blog will have a fair idea of the answer, but over the coming months I'll be exploring a diverse range of coastal activities, communities and pursuits. I'll be writing about the characters of coastal life and looking at art, literature and music whose well-springs are founded in salt water. And yes, I'll be writing about surfing, too. Check out next weekend's paper for something on two characters from the Newquay scene - Tony Plant and Ben Granata.

Meanwhile, many thanks to all who've been giving me advice about how to get Harry back in the water. As I confessed to Greg Martin during a surf the other day, the truth is that I'm not really worried about Harry's current disinclination - he'll be back and surfing soon, and won't have lost an iota of his ability - but I do miss the routine that we'd developed over the last two years or so since moving to the far west. No doubt my current feelings are a foretaste of that moment when one's kids leave home, and perhaps Harry, in his own sensitive way, is alive to this - he's just come in and said "Dad, have I done enough chores for some pocket money and if I have and you give me enough for a new skate game, I'll come surfing with you." Teenagers' minds work in such pleasingly simple fashion.

Lastly, good luck to Sam Smart tonight. He's boxing in Gloucestershire, one of whose boxing clubs, Walcot ABC in Swindon, turned my life around a few years ago. Sam's up against a boxer from Penhill, Walcot's principal rivals in the area. I don't know who's he's fighting but my money's on the Sennen southpaw, whose form, discipline and training regime of late has been evidence that he has what it takes to turn pro.
 
Image, from a skate shoot on Sennen seafront roughly this time last year, courtesy of Russ Pierre. Russ - got your message and will give you a shout!

Porthtowan, last Saturday

This photo, by Sarah Bunt, wends its way to me from one of the brothers Orr. A quality snap, you'll agree. After many years' surfing Sarah has discovered a camera, and roams the beaches taking shots like this.

You could be next, but there might be a downside. James Orr's email sending Sarah's snap itself forwards another email, whose text reads: "Lying b*****d! This photo just proves you were in fact at PT on Saturday." I hope it wasn't from an aggrieved spouse, whose husband was supposed to be mowing the lawn, or worse, from an employer whose employee clearly wasn't as ill as he said he was.

Meanwhile, the International Surfing Association has announced that bobyboarding is no longer to be a part of the World Surfing Games. Sounds a bit mean, doesn't it? But it's not as bad as it seems - bodyboarders are to have their own ISA World Championship.

And finally, I'm stoked because, after years of wanting to go there, I've finally sorted out a trip to Costa Rica. Maybe, just maybe, the thought of this in April will get Harry back in the water meantime. Or maybe he'll just decide to skate until then, knowing that he's got boardshorts surfing in a couple of months. What a thought. I was out somewhere with Greg Martin recently and we had hailstones bombing our (definitely hooded) heads.

Do Big Wave Surfers Have To Be Big?

I've been pondering the fine art of big wave riding. It strikes me that one of various prerequisites of being a big wave surfer is that one is big. Here is a list of big wave surfers who might, or might not, prove the point.

1. Laird Hamilton - very big.

2. Ken Bradshaw - big in a compact kind of way.

3. Al Mennie - I've seen Al sometimes described as 'Big Al Mennie'. Definitely big.

4. Ben Granata - I've yet to meet Ben but I think he's big.

5. Tony Plant (big wave snapper, the shot above is his) - very big.

6. Jesse Davies - not big.

7. Fergal Smith - not big.

8. Ben Skinner - not small.

9. Simon Jayham - big.

10. Jeff Clark - not especially big.

The evidence from this highly scientific poll suggests that you don't have to be big to surf big waves, but it helps.

Better Skate Than Never

It is unlikely, even in his wildest dreams, that Stef Harkon ever thought he'd be featured in the Financial Times.

And yet that is precisely what happened last weekend. The pair of us appeared in a piece about skating written by yours truly, with pictures taken by North Devon surfer/snapper Jim Wileman. I'm hoping to lay my hands on the images soon, but if you click here, and make due allowance for a degree of chronological licence, you can check out what it was all about. Whoever came up with the headline is a genius.

Crime Doesn't Pay (But It Can Fund A Few Surf Trips)

"He's from across the county line, you see. That's the reason."

So said a gent in his 50s in a Penzance newsagent's today as he discussed this weekend's Western Morning News with the young lady behind the counter. The object of their conversation was Joe Olroy, a surfer and lifeguard who, last Friday, was told he'd be spending a few months at Her Majesty's Pleasure.

Olroy, who hails from Paignton in Devon, perpetrated what was either a scam of carefully considered genius for all the right reasons or a vile and unconscionable fraud, depending on your point of view. The former Torbay lifeguard claimed some £63,000 in state benefits over a five year period, having convinced the authorities that he suffered from arthritis, Crohn's disease (what's that? Ed.) and inflammatory bowel condition. In fact, he was fit and healthy. So fit and healthy that he could work as a lifeguard, surf his brains out and travel the world to catch a few waves.

The WMN reports that Olroy was confronted by Department of Work and Pensions officials on the beach in Teignmouth, a place which gets a wave every now and then although, if it was Olroy's local break, one can perhaps comprehend his desire to swindle the state so as to afford a means of escape to more reliable surf spots. Be that as it may, Olroy had made what might be termed a schoolboy error in posting dozens of images of a Sri Lankan surf trip online, at the same time as he was supposedly such an invalid that he could only walk with a walking stick and could barely summon the strength to turn on a kettle.

When confronted by officials, Olroy claimed that he had a doppel-ganger, someone who was roaming the world's best surfing locations pretending to be him. This positively Conradian alibi failed to convince the merciless investigators from the DWP, for they were also in possession of the dreaded TIP OFF. Yes, someone had shopped Olroy.

Commendably, the man from across the county line seems to have said 'fair cop, guv' as soon as he knew the game was up. He asked for another nine benefit offences to be taken into consideration, a move that all you surfing lawyers out there will recognise as a sensible one by anyone who is caught bang to rights. And in mitigation, he cited some heroic lifeguarding activities - again, a fair and reasonable move.

The result? Olroy is sans surf for 30 months. So long as he behaves himself inside, he'll be out in about a year at the max. While there, cooped up and without a wave, he'll have plenty of time to decide whether it was worth it - and to ponder who shopped him.

Which begs the question: who did he drop in on, one time too many?

PS: Having grown up in Devon but now being a resident of Cornwall, I plead guilty.