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THURSO OR BUST! THE 1,000-MILE FOMO MISSION!

We’ve had this story sitting on the back burner since March. For one reason or another, it never seemed like quite the right time to post it… until now. So, here goes!

John Carter and Timo Mullen are no strangers to punishing road trips and, when it comes to chasing waves, their fear of missing out (FOMO) is unrivalled. Drawn north by the promise of a massive 7m swell and screaming north-westerly winds, the duo set their sights on the farthest reaches of the UK road network…Thurso, Scotland…embarking on a ridiculous mission to hopefully score that elusive session.

Of course, nothing involving a 1,000-mile round trip, Scottish winter weather with a delusional windsurfer and photographer hell-bent on finding waves was ever going to be straightforward. There were brutal driving hours, blizzards, dumb decisions, a ski session and plenty of moments when they questioned their own sanity..

But when the forecast was calling, FOMO took over.

So, did they make it to the end of the road? And, more importantly, was it worth the punishment?

Here’s the story of one seriously insane Thurso mission…

Photos: John Carter…Click any photo to scroll and enlarge…best viewed on a big screen!

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THE CALL OF THE NORTH

When you scan a winter swell chart for UK, there’s almost always somewhere going ballistic. Most sane people stick to obsessing over their local breaks…not eyeing up waves at the complete opposite end of the country, like it’s a casual day trip. But if you want it badly enough, there are sessions to be scored… somewhere. The catch? Horrific fuel costs (especially at the moment…Thanks D.T!), endless miles on the road and the very real possibility of a full-blown skunking that can leave you crying in your beer and deflated for weeks.

So…the question is: how much is scoring epic windsurfing worth to you? Are you willing to roll the dice, torch your bank account and gamble it all for a shot at a once in a lifetime session? Are you hungry enough or like the Motley Crew…are you stupid enough!

For JC and Timo, the decision was a no-brainer. A heaving 7m swell with a 17-second period lit up the charts for Thurso…and that was all it took to alert the infamous Motley Crew red phone into a frenzy. Within moments of total disregard for rational thinking, logic was out the window, the van was packed and another completely un thought out mission to the wild north coast of Scotland was underway.

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JOHN CARTER

MAUI… OR MADNESS?

I must admit before this trip I was already toying with the possibility of flying out to Maui to go shoot the Maui Pro Am, which was another kind of ludicrous scheme, as I was planning to go for a mere five days. But as I was hovering over the confirm button on United Airlines, a message Timo pinged up on the phone mentioning Thurso and a 7m swell. I was intrigued.  Now Maui or Scotland (in March), I am not sure which location most would choose, but I was actually drawn in by the thought of chasing something wild in Scotland as opposed to shooting the best in the world shredding Ho’okipa. I guess its official…I must be a glutton for punishment. The allure of the storm chase or the FOMO of missing it, had me hooked.    

The fuel bill alone for the Scottish Sojourn, was enough to make your eyes water. But Timo, ever the optimist, figured if we kipped in the van, we could just about make it work. Our original “plan” and I use that term loosely was to roll out of Southampton at 7am on Friday, squeeze in a session somewhere in Northumberland that afternoon, push on to Thurso, score all day Saturday and still be back on the south coast in time for a Sunday roast. Simple, right?

In reality, it was a brutally ambitious schedule, stitched together with caffeine, blind optimism and a complete disregard for comfort. There were definitely going to be moments that felt less like a road trip and more like torture.

But Thurso… it only happens a few times a year. It’s one of my favourite spots to shoot and the charts were lighting up with this mega swell…proper, full-throttle conditions. The kind that could deliver an “all-time session” while quietly hinting it might also be a complete write-off…What if it was too big? Too wild? Too out of control?

Then again, if anyone was going to give it a crack regardless… you could always count on Timo.

So, for various personal as well as professional reasons, I ditched a week trip to Maui in exchange for a three-day mission to Scotland where we would be sleeping in the van and driving nearly 1500 miles. Now sometimes you really do have to question your own sanity…right?

THE LONG ROAD NORTH

En route to Bantham we stopped for an obligatory photo at the Angel of the North and to let Timo’s dog, Teddy stretch his legs. By the time we hit Bamburgh mid-afternoon, reality had already started chipping away at the dream.

Forecast: 1.6m swell.

Reality: 1.6cm waves.

The wind was howling, the castle looked majestic, the light was perfect…but there were absolutely no waves. Classic.

After another five hours driving later, bringing the days tally to about ten hours Timo was toast and decided to pull over on the side of the road, just after Inverness to sleep. At this stage huddled up in a sleeping bag in the back of the van with Teddy at my feet, the thought of Maui started to sound quite appealing once again. Maui over Scotland was definitely the ongoing theme here.

The next morning it was icy outside (Maui was in the mid 80’s) and we were up at 7am, ready to hit the road for the final two hour stretch to Thurso. The sun was shinning and I was already feeling a bit guilty that we were not already on location to catch the first light. We were not running with our normal military precision, that was for sure! Around 9.30am, we finally pulled into Thurso, which is apparently home to the founder of the Boys Brigade according to the sign at the entrance to town, and headed straight to Tesco to grab the obligatory breakfast bap…a stalwart tradition after our past few trips up here.

Our first glance of the ocean from the Tesco carpark revealed walls of white water breaking across Thurso Bay…It looked massive. Or were we seeing a wavy mirage through our tired eyes…we would soon find out!

Finally, we pulled into a spot we call The Spur just outside of town. You have to drive down a long narrow track and through a few farmers gates but once you get to the little bay at the bottom the detour is always well worth it. Not surprisingly we were totally alone at the spot. No other idiot would be stupid enough to drive up to Scotland in March for a 7m swell and 40 knot winds. The swell was not quite as big as we had hoped after seeing that white water in Thurso Bay. To be fair it was still over mast high and solid, but we had been hoping for double mast high and out of control. The wind was howling however, the sun was shining and it was still looking epic, so we could not really complain too much.

DRONE VERSUS SCOTTISH WIND

While Timo rigged up, I launched the drone. Big mistake. Getting it out over the break was easy. Turning it around was a different story. The wind had other ideas. Full throttle on the controller… and the drone just hovered there like it had given up on life. I reckon it must have been blowing over 50 knots to be fair! The battery was dropping and my panic levels rising. Eventually, I steered it low…just above the water…and crawled it back at a tediously slow rate. Somehow, it survived.

HAIL, WIND & COMMITMENT

Timo headed out on his Duotone 3.7m and 84L Grip and was soon out in the thick of the chaos looking to drop in on the biggest sets he could find. The temp was a frosty 7 degrees and once again the thought of landing in Maui to balmy temperatures crossed my mind.

Timo seemed a tad underpowered on the 3.7m and lasted for about an hour before a crazy squall hit sent hailstones the size of marbles hammering from the sky. But at least we were underway with some action in the bag. Surely, we would score plenty more before the day was done. Or would we?

THE CLASSIC MISTAKE

The next few hours were more than frustrating. We had always planned to sail at least two spots…maybe three, so we packed up at The Spur and went exploring. For one reason or another, most of the other breaks just didn’t look quite right. Meanwhile, the sun was shining, the waves were firing and the clock was ticking…we ended up just driving from break to break wasting precious time. In short…we achieved absolutely nothing.

There is one saying that I always kind of remember from the past is…NEVER LEAVE WIND AND WAVES!… We left wind and waves!

RAW REDEMPTON

Eventually, we crawled back down the track to The Spur. It didn’t look amazing. But we’d learned our lesson and stuck with it. Timo rigged a 4.0 and headed out.

Then it happened. The clouds lifted. The light turned on. The sets started stacking. For the next hour, Thurso delivered clean, powerful lines, mast-high plus sets and that magical, crystal-clear Scottish light! It was proper raw conditions. Unforgettable. This was the moment we’d driven 1,500 miles for. Then, as if on cue, the hail returned to shut it all down.

Once again, we broke the golden rule and started driving and looking at spots again. But this time the cloud lingered and there was nothing on offer to outdo what we had just scored.

OF COURSE… THERE’S MORE

On the way up Timo had been casually mentioning skiing quite a bit into the conversation, which seemed a bit odd…Suddenly on the way out of Thurso I figured why. Apparently, there has been some fresh dumps of snow in the Aviemore region. Most people would call it after the session in Thurso. Not Timo. Hidden in the van: skis, helmet… the works.

Next stop: Aviemore.

Fresh snow. Blue skies. One more session this time riding slopes not waves. Because apparently, one extreme sport per trip for Timo just isn’t enough.

SO… WAS IT WORTH IT?

With all boxes ticked…windsurfing, skiing, mild psychological damage, we faced the final challenge: A 10-hour drive back to Southampton. Somewhere around hour six, Maui crept back into my thoughts again. Warm water. Palm trees. Ho’okipa. Hmmm. But here’s the thing. Trips like this rarely make sense on paper. They’re expensive, exhausting and finely balanced on the knife-edge between scoring and complete failure.

But every now and then, everything lines up…just enough to remind you why you do it. The cold. The chaos. The uncertainty. That one session. And suddenly, it all makes sense.

Maui will still be there. But Thurso…Thurso only goes ballistic a few times a year. And this time…We were there!

As it turned out, by the time I got home the Maui Pro Am still hadn’t even started, bad weather had halted proceedings. Hawaii was still on the table…But then a fresh forecast lit up in Cornwall. And just like that… here we go again!”