Calm and warm in the hook of the Cliffs of Moher after a peaceful morning surf. It is hard to believe, but you can actually forget to open your eyes to the beauty of the backdrop down here. Surf hungry eyes will tend to the west, away from what has to be one of the most epic surfing amphitheatres in this world.
It has been a while since I glassed fins onto a fresh board. It is a good process in lots of ways – this time signifying a board shaped with one thing in mind. I like the way those little slivers of fibreglass are so fragile until they have been properly reinforced, but I don’t love tip-toeing around the stands, holding my breath so I won’t disturb this house-of-cards.
Chris and his lovely wife, Brea, came to visit during the Autumn and I have just got hold of some shots that he took while he was here (updated ‘About’ with two). We somehow didn’t hook up with too much surf, although there was plenty of swell (??) but we had some happy times talking it up while walking through muddy fields and Burky even helped harvest some of our tomatoes. I particularly enjoyed the moment that Chris stepped over just another fence and amazingly, copped 240v to the plums.
Catch Chris at http://chrisburkard.blogspot.com/
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Here is the man himself with my pet owl, twinkle toes
I know this is meant to be about surfboards, but sticking with the theme, I pulled out a few more shots involving Whitey.
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Goodbye, dear friend!
I’m currently mourning the passing of my camper van, whitey. I didn’t renew my insurance at the end of the month and with that ended a six year partnership where I was provided not just transport but also shelter, comfort and warmth. Aside from being my regular wheels, whitey managed to take me as far south as The Sahara, high up into The Alps and to just a couple of surf spots. Raquel and myself were treated to a royal tour of Europe (no surfing…) on our honeymoon and several trips to her hometown of Vigo in Galicia, NW Spain. Its been a lot of fun, white fella.
with the mothership, maroc
minus rear lens, lifted in casablanca
central florence stealth camp. 40 degrees…
didn’t move on from here for a couple of days
label on the bottle lost to the cool of the river
whitey christmas
happy days and so long, brother whitey
Tom Lowe hooking into one last week at Aileen’s on a 7’8 dh. As test pilots go, I’m pretty lucky to have Tommy giving me feedback. It hurts to miss waves like this, but I find I get some kind of buzz at least from seeing my boards out, even if I’m not. Thanks to Mark Wankel for sending me on this shot.
Back to normal life. Good to be using the body once again and not the brain. Even managed to score some waves on the tail end of that great run of swells that pulsed without me. Better still, everyone seemed to be wave sated so line-ups were blissfully clear. The bad knee went ok too. Result.
