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To cut a long story short, we arrived in Lynmouth after a three-hour nightmare on the winding roads of Devon to find some semi-decent surf, but barely a breath of wind at the bottom of the surrounding cliffs.
In other words, we’d blown it. To make matters worse, Timo was committed to a meeting in Manchester the following day while the rest of us would have to retrace our tracks all the way back to Hayle and hope we could pull something back the next morning.
