The surf trip finished for me that day as my hand grew to size of Shrek’s after the bare knuckle experience. But Glyn and Holly were back in the water soon enough and the surf kept rolling in thanks to the Roaring Forties swell factory. It was warm, the wind stayed light, and all the time we were softly killing the dreary UK winter.
A few people have asked me whether I would go back to Sri Lanka and I think I would. The conditions, the people, the food and the culture are all unique. And one bad person is not a country, the same as one greedy paddler isn’t a sport. I have travelled broadly across different continents without any issues; it has to be kept in context as an unlucky experience. Surf rage, like road rage can just flare up anywhere though thankfully most of the time is just an exchange of words. SUP
