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.