Zero degrees Celsius – it’s not the temperature I relish windsurfing in but with my van’s dashboard having displayed it solidly for the last hour, it was a reality I would have to accept and had come prepared for. With every possible layer of clothing I could muster and a few extra for moral support, I’d rigged a 4.7 sail and 105 litre board in a lull in the frequent showers. I was just about to put my wetsuit on when the skies blackened and the mother of all hail storms machine gunned the side of the van as I ran for cover on the leeward side. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea! I retreated to inside the van and watched helplessly as my kit braved the onslaught of 50 knot gusts, hoping that the swirling maelstrom of weather outside wouldn’t pick it up and deposit it in a far away county. As the squall passed I stepped outside to clear the hail off my sail; clear skies to the west meant we had a window before the next squall, it was now or never.
“ The swell period forecast for today was in the high teens and the mast high plus sets booming through every ten minutes confirmed it. ”
