We live in strange times. The picture above shows that surfing, of sorts, is alive and well in London. It was taken by my mate Jules as he strolled innocuously through Bermondsey. Suddenly, a blue swellboard fell from the sky and landed at his feet. Jules is not a man to be easily discombobulated and so he walked on, as if immune. But then he came back and wielded his mobile phone, taking this snap and taking evasive action as more and more swellboards fell from the heavens. What does it all mean?
In search of an answer I came to the far north with Aerial Attack and Billy the Kid. At Tynemouth, we encountered waves so clean and perfect they were a dream. Trouble is, they were very small too. What to do? Well, by way of a pre-emptive strike (for Aerial Attack has his very own blog, and is threatening to publish the evidence), we went stand-up paddle boarding.
Yes, I admit it. That's what we did. We got a stack of waves in this order of capability: The Kid - a natural; Aerial Attack - an unnatural; myself - like a lardy Laird.
This admission out of the way, I can move swiftly on to talk about QPR's magnificent performance away to Newcastle Utd last night. The Rs were footballing gods personified. But wait - someone is tapping me on the shoulder, reminding me that I am not supposed to write about football here. This is a surf blog, so where's the surfing, that's what this person wants to know and well he might ask for, as I have said, these are strange times.
Trouble is, in four days here we haven't found a surfable wave. Granted, we should have gone in at Saltburn but it was a little messy and time was short. Tynemouth was tiny and at the Get Carter beach we spent too much time drinking whisky and pretending to assasinate each other. That left this morning, in Sunderland. The day dawned, as it tends to do, having no alternative, revealing a resplendent Roker Beach. Before we knew it we were in the water, myself on a goat boat, the Kid and AA on kayaks. Heavily disguised as journalists on a press trip, we blitzed a few glistening barrels and then ran for cover.
The Kid and AA have headed north. They're aiming for the legendary break of Thurso, England (copyright The Royal Mail on a surf DVD), where they may yet reacquire their credibility. As for me, it is all over. The swellboards are falling, the SUP is beckoning, the goat boat is a temptress.
Only a surfer, confronted with the preceding facts, knows the feeling.
4 to 6 ft glass today, we can show our faces in public. As for you, best send us some more surf trip funds or 'That Picture' gets put on the blog.. . . . . . .
Posted by: Barrel Bill | October 02, 2009 at 10:10 PM