24hr Hit/Croyde

 It’s 6 am and a low light is seeping from the darkness. A mountain of water thrown up into the sky, as if a charge has exploded from underneath, crashes down. They are unpredictable and continue to go off, because the swell has hit as expected; and for the next 24 hours men and women make this terrifying playground their way too connect with something only a surfer can describe to themselves, on a lucid morning when all is quiet- before it is not.   


    This is no time for nerves – I am nervous. This is the sort of swell that you can hear ringing in your head for days afterwards. The takedowns are hard and the time under the water is long. I begin to think that it would be best to, just take photographs from the shore, but  some deep breaths help, and the fear soon dissipates into the motion of the ocean. 


       Other surfers seem to have conquered their fear as a surfer guns down a long barrelling left. Being out here together in this beautiful wilderness is a pure form of connection as the woops can be heard across the plain. People seem genuinely relieved and excited for one another after a grumpy - no surf - couple of weeks. 


    These swells, with their beautiful forms, out of what seems like weeks of chaos and darkness, really can help keep the spirit alive. 


    I recently had the pleasure of going to Fuerteventura and surfing some amazing reef break. But there’s something about the cold, the unpredictability, the vastness of these different waves breaks off the beautiful south-west of England. Having learnt to Surf in Australia,  taking some time to adjust, I for one am glad to call this home; and now look forward to cold winters in a thrilling part of the world. Now protected for good reason.



















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