VICTORY LAP - PART 2

Previously we followed the first episode of a spur-of-the-moment road trip where John Carter and Timo Mullen dragged 2012 BWA Champion, Jamie Hancock, on a celebratory tour through England, across Wales into Northern Ireland and finally to the far north west corner of the Republic’s Donegal – just for an afternoons sailing.

The trip didn’t stop there however and our crew decided to keep on going and head from Ulster over into Scotland and finally by ferry to the Hebridean Isle of Lewis in the next chapter off this utterly insane journey. John Carter picks up the pieces from where they left off.

Words & Photos JOHN CARTER

SMELLS LIKE TEAM SPIRIT
It’s 10am on a chilly November morning and three of us are sat in the van at Ullapool in Northern Scotland wondering what the hell we are doing? We’d caught the 11pm Stena Ferry from Belfast over to Cairnryan in Scotland the previous evening and then driven seven hours through the night to this remote ferry port, ready for the 11am Cal Mac ferry to the Outer Hebrides. In the past thirty six hours we have barely slept. None of us has changed clothes, we smell and our tempers are fraying. But the light at the end of the tunnel is that, in four hours or so, we will be in Lewis – one of Britain’s Meccas for quality waves! ‘Is this misery all worth it?’ I start to ask myself. I guess we’ve done the hard part now and are hopefully in the right place at the right time and are going to score something special to make all this suffering worthwhile?

The Cal Mac ferry finally pulls out of Ullapool and we leave the Scottish mainland behind and head across the North Minch straights over to Stornaway. The three hour ferry ride allows us a small window to catch some sleep, although there is a sense of excitement between us that keeps us awake for the first part of the crossing. Lewis is the largest of the Western Isles and is steeped in history and culture ranging back to the Iron ages. With 8,000 of its 18,000 population living in Stornaway, the Islands capital, arriving on the Island is a totally different feel to when you rock up at the deserted ferry port in Tiree.

Crossing the middle of the Island, the road out of Stornaway takes you through an expansive peat plateau that is still cut as fuel in many areas. The A857 finally hits a crossroad at Barvas on the coast and this is where the windsurfing adventure begins. Arriving at 2pm meant we only had two hours of light at this time of year so we decided to head straight to Brager to catch a late surf. All the forecasts were pointing towards wind on Friday so we had no real panic to scratch around for any sailing without much time on our hands. Sure enough, as Timo had earlier predicted, the surf was pumping and, with only the occasional seal to share the waves, it is not often you can score such quality surf in the UK with nobody else on the water – albeit with a 5/3 wetsuit, hood, gloves and boots!

BEST LAID PLANS
Jamie, by now our established logistics man, managed to source a fantastic deal in the lovely Royal Hotel in Stornaway so at last we could score a decent night’s sleep in a real bed, thank the Lord! Unfortunately in the room there were only two luxurious beds and a pull out sofa, with Yours Truly doomed to the sofa bed after a heated debate. The next morning, fuelled-up with a full Scottish breakfast, we headed back across the Island hoping for our just rewards after all this ridiculous travel. Our rough plan was, a full day on the water, another night in the hotel and then a morning session on Saturday before catching the 2pm ferry to Ullapool followed by the final hellish twelve-hour drive back to the English south coast! The forecast was calling for 35-knot south west winds and 4m swell, rising to 5m on Saturday with west wind, so we were all confident of scoring. We were all screaming as we pulled over the hill at Brager and stared down on perfect peeling waves. But the reality turned out that the wind was bolt offshore and much lighter than the predicted thirty knots. Next stop was Barvas, a classic set-up with logo-high peeling waves wrapping round a point and into the bay. The wind was still on the light side on the inside and not helped by the huge rain squalls passing through, but it looked like enough for our first Scottish session. Out on the water the waves were way bigger than they looked from the beach and when Timo dropped into his first bomb it took us all by surprise. The wave was solid mast-high and packed with power. Looking upwind towards the next break, called Bru, the sets were really starting to grind in with huge plumes of spray billowing off their tops. We scored a pretty heavy session for the next two hours before one almighty rain squall forced the crew off the water and me to run for cover.

Next stop we were back at Brager hoping that the wind had flicked around from earlier being bolt offshore, but Timo was not too bothered at the sight of feathering, peeling barrels spitting across the reef so once again it was an epic surf session to finish of a solid day. That evening we feasted at the local curry house in Stornaway along with a few pints of fine Scottish Ale to wash it all down. Despite not scoring strong winds we were all pumped that the waves were smoking and we had scored Barvas at solid mast high.

CURSE OF CARTER OR CALLANISH?
We all made the most of our beds that night with the knowledge that our two nights of luxury were drawing to a close and the next evening we were going to be spending twelve hours cooped-up in Timo’s van. We checked out of the hotel in good spirits only to find Jamie’s ‘wonder deal’ on the room was for £90 pounds each rather than the total as we had budgeted for, darn it! Our dawn patrol on the final morning was to the Callanish Stone Circle, an ancient formation which is often referred to as the Scottish Stonehenge! The stones range from 8 to 13 feet, with the tallest stone at 16 feet high smack in the middle. Their ‘Lewisian Gneiss’ stone construction dates back to 2900BC and is the oldest feature of its type in the British Isles. As the sky turned to pink with the morning sunrise, there was definitely a mystic presence around this awesome site. However, five minutes later I somehow managed to drop all of my cameras and lenses out of my unzipped camera bag onto the concrete. We set off back towards Brager hoping the stones had not just cursed our luck but somehow I had a bad feeling about the lack of wind in the air despite the 25-knot forecast. Looking at the pressure charts the night before we were perilously close to the eye of the low and the big puffy clouds out on the horizon did not look to promising.

COUNTDOWN
On the bright side, Brager was pumping with solid six foot surf as we cruised down into the bay, this by far the biggest we had seen it in our few days on the Island. With the aide of Timo’s iPad we could see that, about 80 miles south, the Isle of Uist had twenty five knots while we had less than ten. Surely the wind was coming our way? The question was, would it arrive before we had to catch our ferry? So the waiting game started. Well it didn’t last that long. Timo was never going to let those waves go to waste so headed out for a surf session, determined to make the most of his last day on Lewis. By 12pm I was starting to think it was game over. Our ferry was at 2.30pm, which was half an hour away and we had to be there 45 minutes before to check-in. Time was not on our side. Maybe those darn rocks did have a curse on us?

At 12.30 the wind swung to the right direction and started to blow perfectly cross-off to the waves. It wasn’t strong, but it was definitely just about enough to wobble out. We had forty five minutes! Jamie was first out this time, determined to clock-up as many waves as possible in this tiny window of opportunity. One thing was for sure, we had to make that ferry, or otherwise we were headed for 3 x divorces! Promises had been made to our respective partners and we were all expected to be home first thing Sunday morning – or else! What if Timo or Jamie broke their mast on the last wave? Brager is a big bay with a lot of current moving around and a last-minute calamity could mean a long swim in and cause a total disaster! Our half hour window was both a bitter and sweet way to end the trip. On one hand we had scored a handful of quality waves right down-to-the-wire, while on the other side of the coin, we had to leave just as the conditions we’d come for started to turn on. UK Champ Jamie was happy to catch those few waves, that’s for sure. We made the ferry with ten minutes to spare before they shut the gates and a huge rainbow framed the town as our Cal Mac ferry pulled out of Stornaway bound for mainland Scotland

On reflection we felt kind of sad to leave without clocking-up more hours of sailing in those world-class waves, but the fact we didn’t gives us the perfect excuse to head back to Lewis in the future on another mission, so don’t be surprised to see this Island again in a future issue of this magazine, only bigger and better! The twelve hour drive home was a good time to reflect on our ridiculous victory lap of the British Isles. Yes, it was a proper adventure and we managed to show Jamie a small taster of how good Ireland and Lewis can be, but I’m not sure whether I will undertake such an ambitious trip over such a short space of time again. Hang on a second, there goes my phone, ‘France, day trip? You got to be kidding! Well I suppose so, oh alright then, I’m in!’ JC

JAMIE HANCOCK
I think this is about the 8th time I have been to the Hebrides but only the first time it has not been to Tiree. I had always heard that the other islands were great for windsurfing but I had no idea. I‘ve clocked-up quite a few miles now travelling round the world, nothing quite anything compared to Timo’s standard, and have seen a lot of breaks. But, arriving at Brager I was blown away, I said to myself ‘this is the best place I’ve ever been.’ Every minute of the previous 36 hours travel to arrive there was worth it.

I had a good sail at Barvas but for me all I was after was to get out at Brager, there was no way I could leave there and not have attempted to sail. Without any exaggeration it came down to a window of 30 minutes right at the end of our trip. Timo said to me “You can literally go and catch one wave, so make it count!” I caught 2 or 3 waves in the end and felt eyes burning in the back of my head each time I turned round for another, I couldn’t help it – the surf was perfect.

The journey back is a long one. Over the last few years I have got to know Timo pretty well, we have been on lots of trips around the UK in search of the best days sailing and if there is one windsurfer that I probably look up to and listen then it would be him. I’ve been lucky enough to have someone as keen as him, and JC too, who are willing to take the risks and go that bit further in search of perfection. He’s introduced me too some amazing places to windsurf and Lewis tops the bill. Driving back on the 12-hour journey after our 3-day windsurfing marathon we had a very frank conversation. We both agreed that given any chance to live anywhere in the world to be able to windsurf it would be the UK or Ireland. If you are prepared to commit and take the risks, the rewards are endless.