Tweet

IAN WHITTAKER: THE LONG WAY BACK

UK sailor Ian Whittaker has spent his whole life chasing wind and waves, from his early days at a gravel pit in Chertsey, to his home spot at the Witterings, as well as seasons spent in Maui and Australia. Six years ago, a brutal accident in Moulay, Morocco, left him with a shattered leg, multiple surgeries and the real possibility he might never windsurf again. What followed was an 18-month battle through pain, setbacks, frustration and ultimately, a hard-earned return to the water and windsurfing. This is Ian’s story, in his own words.

Photos: John Carter / Henning Von Jagow / Ian Whittaker

---

EARLY DAYS

“I got into windsurfing through my dad. Back in 1979 he took on a gravel pit at Chertsey, right by Thorpe Park and turned it into a windsurfing lake. I basically grew up there.

I started when I was seven years old and just hung around the lake the whole time. By 15 I was working there, teaching, taking the rescue boat out, pulling beginners out of the bushes when they drifted off course. It was just part of life.

Dad later got a beach hut on Hayling Island that was linked to the lake membership, so once I started driving at 17, I’d head straight down there whenever I could.

Not long after that, a mate and I drove down to Tarifa for two months in an old Vauxhall Midi van. We slept in it and sailed every day.

That was mostly flat-water sailing, we scored some wave sessions around Los Canos de Meca, and that lit the spark.

HOOKED ON WAVE SAILING

Wave sailing really took off when I started going down to the Witterings. I was living in North Cheam at the time, so it meant driving down, but it was worth it. Then came trips to Maui. I was with my missus by then…we’re still together now and for about four years we’d spend winters away: three months in Australia, three months in Maui. That’s where the wave sailing really developed.

THE AUSTRALIA YEARS

In 2005 we moved to Perth, Austalia for five years. We built our dream house by a golf course and I worked in construction. We lived in Karrinyup, near Scarborough and sailed Scarborough and Margaret River mainly. It was going really well, I was doing building but eventually we wanted to come back so the kids could be closer to their grandparents.

HOME BREAKS

We moved back to the Witterings and later bought a place in Cornwall as well. The idea was to split time between the two, but in the end we mostly stayed put in Witterings and rented the Cornwall place out. It’s still a great bolt hole when the conditions line up.

Over the years I’ve ridden different kit. I used to be on NeilPryde, but these days I ride Ezzy sails… they’re bulletproof, which suits me because I’m pretty heavy-handed and like getting right up close to the lip. I also get support from Simon at 2XS and he has been amazing.

I used to break a lot of gear with other brands. For boards I’ve ridden Quatro and Goya, but after visiting the KT factory in Maui and trying a few shapes, I was sold on custom boards. I was like a kid in a sweet shop! I’ve got a 100-litre and an 86-litre and absolutely love them. They hardly weigh anything and the rails just feel incredible in the turns.

I’d say I’m more into classic down-the-line wave riding, but I love jumping too, especially at the Witterings in a westerly. It can be ramp after ramp, almost back-loop heaven. Timo Mullen used to nickname me “Back Loop” because I’d throw at least one, every run.

MOROCCO 2021

Then came the Morocco trip…Five years ago, myself Timo Mullen, a mate called Pezza, headed to Moulay on a epic forecast. The first night, an Irish guy called Paddy turned up with a big old bottle of navy rum and we got stuck in. I woke up the next morning with a sore head, no running water in the toilets and a sense the day might not go to plan.

BRUTAL

(WARNING IF YOU ARE A BIT SQUEAMISH YOU MAY WANT TO SKIP THIS SECTION!…SKIP TO REBUILDING PARA)

We rigged 3.8’s early like 9 am. It was logo- to mast-high and low tide, breaking hard over a shallow section we liked to jump off. A couple of guys had their cameras out Everyone was charging. On my second run I was flying, pretty out of control if I’m honest. I hit a steep lip, thought, “This is the one, I am going to send this so high” and went for a massive back loop.

Halfway up I realised how steep and shallow it was. As I released, the wave barrelled over the rail and twisted the board into my leg. My leg just went bang and snapped clean. The rail had flipped into my leg. I still went up, not too high and landed out the back, but my leg was gone. When I hit the water, my foot was pointing back toward the beach, while I was facing out to sea. It was horrific.

Timo sailed over, took one look and went white. I grabbed his tail and we went over the falls together. I had to hold my broken leg underwater while getting worked in three big hold-downs. Somehow, I made it in.

The whole town seemed to know by then what had happened. By luck, there was a lower-limb surgeon from Canada there on holiday. He splinted my leg with driftwood and duct tape. I was on a concrete slipway at the edge of the water with everyone gathered around. Boujmaa organized an ambulance. I did not get any pain killers for hours. They got me to a local hospital in Essaouira, no windows, blood splats on the walls, corroded taps. A surgeon offered to fix it for €3,000. The X-ray machine looked out of the arc. My tibia and fibula were broken in five places. I could not have broke it any worse.

I told the lads to get me out of there. After hours without painkillers, it was Ramadan, so everything moved slowly. I was transferred by ambulance to a private hospital in Marrakech which took three hours. Even that was chaos; at one point the driver forgot to put the brakes on the bed and I slid backwards as he accelerated. I was on my own in the back and it was pretty horrendous.

By the time I reached Marrakech it 10pm at night. They called the surgeon back in as he had gone home. He showed me the X-rays and said they’d insert a rod from my knee down to my ankle. They numbed me from the waist down but kept me awake and upright. I watched him drill through my kneecap with what looked like a Black & Decker drill, drive the rod down the bone and lock it in with bolts at top and bottom. My god that was surreal to be watching it all.

Five days later I was still in hospital, still in pain and struggling with inconsistent medication, I booked three seats on an EasyJet flight home. My insurance company was no help; I had to pay everything up front and get it back later. My dad and my wife both flew out to Marrakech to help me fly home…if they had not done that I don’t know what would have happened.

Back in the UK it didn’t feel right. A friend who’s a lower-limb specialist insisted on an X-ray as I could not straighten my leg. Her boss saw it and said, “Get him in now.” The rod was too long and about to push my kneecap out. Within hours, at Portsmouth Hospital, they replaced it with the correct size.

REBUILDING

Even then, recovery was brutal with the right size rod. I was off the water, depressed, stuck on the sofa. After four months I could finally straighten my leg. I got into water photography, swimming out on a foam surfboard at the Witterings, shooting the lads looping overhead. It kept me sane for about a year. I called myself Anchorman.

But every time I tried to surf and stand up, a searing pain shot through my knee. It turned out a nerve was rubbing against one of the locking bolts. There was no way I could windsurf with the rod in. Eventually I pushed to have the rod removed entirely. The surgeon warned the pain might be permanent.

Two weeks later lockdown hit. My leg started feeling slightly better, but I wouldn’t know for sure until I tried standing up on a wave. One day I sneaked out for a quick surf. I caught a wave, stood up and there was no pain. It had finally settled after the hardware came out. Once the locking nut was out it had taken about a month to heal and feel normal again.

WINDSURING AGAIN

I ran home bouncing off the walls. After a year and a half, I realised I might actually windsurf again. The first flat-water blast was the best feeling ever. I genuinely thought my windsurfing days were over. Getting back into wave sailing was another mental hurdle.

Every back loop, as I left the lip, I’d think, “This is it, it’s going to happen again.” I still get that flicker of fear sometimes, but I managed it. It still feels a bit scary to this day, when I clip the lip when I am launching.

It was about 18 months before I was properly wave sailing again. Now the leg feels strong, bigger than the other one where the bones knitted together, but solid. I feel brand new almost!

The whole experience changed me. When something you love gets taken away, you suddenly see everything differently. Every session now feels like a gift. I don’t get frustrated if I’m not sailing well. I’m just grateful to be out there. I live for windsurfing!

I still check the forecast constantly, first thing in the morning, mid-morning, afternoon, and in the evening. Studying charts, planning where might work in the UK. Mostly, Cornwall and the Witterings…we’re lucky here.

RETURN TO MOULAY: CLOSURE

I even went back to Morocco last year on a Boujmaa clinic in a nearby bay. We did one day in Moulay. I was so tense. I did one forward loop, landed hard, felt my neck twinge and I basically thought, “I need to get out of here.” I sat on the concrete slope for two hours thinking. The local kids remembered me. It felt like closure, but I don’t know if I’d go back again. It was good I went back and dealt with the closure through!

PERSPECTIVE

The accident put life in perspective. When I couldn’t windsurf, I filled the gap with photography and stayed in the water. A lot of people said they’d have just sat indoors feeling sorry for themselves. I decided I had to find a way back. A lot of people respected me for getting back to windsurfing after all that. I stayed positive and decided to get on with my life!

Now, every time I sail, it’s with gratitude. I had to get back in the water…this journey just defines part of who I am.”

Some footage from the Morocco incident here!

Ep -66 – Send iT Sunday