I’m trying to gauge position in the line up but sets are breaking wildly over the offshore islands with a force that makes for a tricky balance of self preservation and putting myself in the take off zone. The normal line up markers are lost in the swell but after watching a few sets break, the trail of foam left behind leads me to the sweet spot. I go against the grain and swing around on the first wave of the set, my vision on the first wave is better over those behind it and it’s a face free of broken water from the remains of previous waves. I make the drop and adopt my best gorilla stance to stay standing, feeling like a tightrope walker with my paddle as a pole to keep stable. I kick out in the channel just before the wave closes out, unsure whether it has been mission accomplished or mission started. My need for greed wins out and I paddle out for more as grey skies brood to the West and I prepare for the inevitable squall of hail against my head. A few weeks ago as I trained in the swimming pool I overheard a conversation that made me laugh, two retired gentlemen discussed the impending weather with concern, ‘’It’s a telly day for sure’’ said the rounder of the two. I laughed again as the squallagedon hit me, recounting his quip, and feeling thankful for my armour of neoprene that I can enjoy the wildness of the day in relative comfort and avoid winter’s real worst weapon of all – the indolence of ‘Telly days’!
The long period swell makes for long lulls between sets but has groomed walls to feel out my new board. At 9’6 x 27’ it’s the narrowest wave board I’ve used but stability isn’t an issue and the width cuts through the surface chop like a knife. My Starboard team mates Connor Baxter and Zane Schweitzer tell me their custom Jaws boards are around 25 inches wide and they say they may even go narrower as they push the limits of our sport. Today is not Jaws but the unique Celtic seascapes of sparsely inhabited islands offshore makes it special for me. The older inhabitants of the islands view playing on the sea with suspicion, they still remember the loss of friends and family who were taken by the sea as they worked fishing. I catch three more waves before daylight fades and an onshore gale builds, pressing on my shoulder for the paddle in. I scramble up the steps to the pier on a surging swell, feeling for shore with the look and gait of a shipwrecked sailor.
