A session with high seas and frustrated surfers against the backdrop of Brexit. Finn Mullen chronicles facing and escaping reality with some windsurfing liquid therapy.
WORDS FINN MULLEN // PHOTOS MIKEE HAMILTON
Originally published within the November ’17 edition.
The van is being buffeted by the wind, a good sign I hope. “You can never be too sure if the weather will do what they say it will do,” says the spirited landlady of the pub, sensing I was at the mercy of the elements. I’d stopped for a sandwich and the pub was the only place open. The TV muted in the background showed images of the Las Vegas massacre and the sobering scenes stifled conversation amongst the local men at the bar. A young man stared at his pint intently looking for an answer, it wasn’t there. I don’t have one either, pay the bill and leave looking for a different sort of liquid therapy.
LUCKY
I’m feeling lucky, not because of the forecast, that doesn’t often mean much as the landlady sagely noted, but because I had the day off, the sun is out and there’s motion in the distant seas. I’m living in the moment as mindfulness zealots say, or just living, as I prefer to put it. Another van pulls up beside me at the traffic lights. On the passenger side a tired worker tries to rest his head against the window using his awkwardly angled arm for an uncomfortable looking pillow. His face says he doesn’t want to be there and his body agrees. I feel even luckier to have the day off. Work doesn’t often make you a better windsurfer but it does give a good perspective to make actually going windsurfing feel all the better.
COASTLINES
As I close in on the coast, the hustle and bustle of the road dilutes and the small fishing village comes into sight. There are no boats in the bay today, it’s too rough out at sea and the fishermen are absent, surfers taking their place in the harbour car park. I look around the collection of cars, motorhomes and vans and spot only one Irish number plate, which is a hire car. For European wave chasers, Ireland has become a must-do stop in autumn. Surf magazines, websites and videos sell the Emerald Isle as a place full of waves and bereft of crowds. That it is, sometimes, but not today, not here. It’s the opposite, crowded and inconsistent surf. There’s an uneasy atmosphere from the collective of having been sold faulty goods. They have to share little amongst a lot and that’s not what they planned for. All these visiting riders have come seeking something that banded together they won’t find – solitude. I suppose looking at a map of Ireland’s coastline you could be forgiven thinking that every single Atlantic facing nook and cranny has waves. Maybe they do, that’s the magical curiosity the island inspires but to find those hidden gems requires traversing hours of small country roads. It sounds oh so romantic but soon loses its appeal for most people when they realize that just round the coast on the map takes 5 hours by car, more if you meet sheep on the way to their fields (rush hour). So they abandon exploration and just head to the surf spots in the guidebooks in search of a surer bet. I get it, if I only had a few days holiday in a country I’d do the same, but that means everyone gambles on the one horse and today the going doesn’t look good for this race. I get back in the saddle and leave my fellow (for the moment) Europeans to fight amongst the scraps while I see if I can find a tastier alternative.
BORDERLINE
On the way down here I’d passed a sign for a protest march by ‘Border Communities Against Brexit’. They are a group of local representatives from a range of business, community and farming sectors established with the purpose of countering the imposition of a hard border on the island of Ireland because of Brexit. Working on both sides of the border on a collective basis, they are trying to counter the already seen effects of the Brexit vote in their communities. Whilst European visitors are up, British visitors are well down and in some border towns trade is down by 30% in hospitality sectors. To reach Dublin from the North West of Ireland the quickest route is often through Northern Ireland so any goods being brought to the island’s largest domestic market face the prospect of having to go through untold officialdom and checks. There’s a sense that decisions being made far away in Brussels and London are having a very profound local effect on the ground. The same sense of distrust and unease with distant politics exists here that sparked the Brexit vote in the first place. It feels strange to think that in a few years to enjoy the wind and waves here may require some sort of customs check but I concentrate more on my immediate future and cross a county border hoping to find a duty free reward.
EXPOSED
I’m banking on a more exposed part of the coast to my first stop. The shore is stripped bare of virtually any vegetation here with no hills, dunes or trees to block the wind, always a favourable sign for a good windsurfing spot. The view is spartan but the flat fields and stone walls have their own rugged appeal. The roads to the shore are covered in rocks and stones as the sea tries to reclaim its borders with its own sense of anger. Waves are crashing over the harbour wall as a chunky swell meets a concrete end. It’s a small neap tidal range today and I know I’ll only have an hour or two before the tide gets too high and those crashing waves refract back into the break for a confluence of energy I have no desire to meet. I open the van door and a gust slams it back in my face, it’s windy! A river runs out to the sea here and the outgoing water helps stand the wave faces up over the reef. The wind is slightly onshore though and that little bit of an extra vector on the sea has a put an edge on the wave face and sea state. I play it safe with a bit of extra power to push through any current and rig a 4.7 to partner with my 93 litre thruster. I love twins and quads but I’m really digging my thruster setup at the minute. There’s a lot of easy power to tune into which can help a lot in tricky conditions like today.
TACTICS
Launching here is never easy and getting off the rock-strewn shore in one piece feels like reward enough. The trick is waiting in knee depth to keep your footing, then as a set fills more water into the bay and gives more depth to launch over the rocks, catch a ride out on the receding water and make it out the back without leaving half your board and fin behind. Now the fun can really begin. Sailing out through the channel I see what I already knew from watching the waves before launching, it’s a day to play smart. There was a big swell forecast, over 5 metres with a long period, but the day and night before the wind had howled offshore only switching onshore in the early morning. Computer generated numbers can look great on forecasts but it’s hard for them to model local effects or emulate a bit of local knowledge. The swell hadn’t kicked in as big as expected as the very strong offshore winds had kept it out at sea, hence the frustrated surfers earlier. It was bigger round here as the reef / river mouth setup does a good job of amplifying the wave size, especially with some onshore wind, but not without some side effects. There was a lot of water moving round the break and the sets were a mix of long period and locally generated swell on multiple peaks. This wasn’t ABC wavesailing but by watching carefully you could navigate the maelstrom. The white-water trail on the waves in front as you ride in give a good indication of where the wave will break and boils in the face show where it is about to suck and require avoidance. I’m watching how much and how wide the white-water is after the wave in front breaks. A face full of foam is too risky to ride as your fins and rail will struggle for grip in the broken water. It was a session for tactics not turns; chess moves not dice rolls.
END GAME
The sea always dictates the play and this day especially had the upper hand, but I was thankful to have been dealt a few fortunate cards and returned to land with a board and body still intact, happily drunk from a sweet brine infusion. A young American tourist and his girlfriend snapped shots of the angry sea in the car park. He asked where he could surf in a half-hearted way, knowing already the wind had killed his enthusiasm. I couldn’t think of a good answer, I mean wasn’t it obvious what he needed to do? He was happy anyway, he had some shots to insty’, get a ‘like’ fix and any deeper enquiries with me would only lead him to the conclusion I already knew and the answer he didn’t want to hear – go windsurfing!
