Another level. It turns out some of Britain and Ireland’s best surfers were out – including Oli Adams and Fergal Smith – and I was getting more than a front-row seat. A couple of closeout barrels and squeaking out of another meant I left the water pretty stoked after a stressful but classic day. The bigger set waves had been staying wide open. Maybe some pics from the day will surface from the numerous photographers on shore, we forgot to take any!
Geoff was clearly wiped out by the emotions of it all and, after a swift pint, was in bed by 8 p.m. I walked the dog, rang [my wife] Trudie and checked the forecast half a dozen more times. Sleeping wasn’t going to be easy anyway! It was still on, still looking all-time for ‘Big Monday’.
We were up with the sun to try and squeeze every last hour of daylight, but, come ten, we were still driving round. The wind was blowing but looked to be really offshore. The swell was there, but seemed to not be wrapping in anywhere at all. Some of the usual spots were flat (which I couldn’t get my head round with a 17-sec. period of west swell), so finding a sailable place was proving impossible. At least Geoff was getting a guided tour of beautiful Caithness. Of course we wanted to sail Thurso East, but maybe we almost didn’t believe it could happen?
As time ticked on we knew it was now or never. It still looked really offshore and not that big with the dropping tide. It was windy though. I rigged a 4.3 and headed out to join the handful of surfers. A game of tentative politeness ensued where I would catch a wave, bottom turn wide around the pack, around the throwing lip and turn on the still-very-shapely end section. I’d sail straight out the back again in 10 seconds flat, then sit on my kit for 10 minutes before repeating. It was a happy medium, if slightly frustrating, but meant that the surfers got their waves and I got mine without being dropped in on. Most importantly it was very sailable, actually not too offshore and at times and I was pretty stacked on the 4.3. Phew.