I’M STILL cruising around the north of Spain, which you’d have known had you read my last blog post (tsk tsk if you didn’t). I’ve got a big smile on my dial. This morning and yesterday arvo I scored epic waves at Mundaka (Europe’s best left-hander). It doesn’t break that often, which I think is the reason the WCT stopped holding their annual surfing competition there, so I was pretty lucky seeing as I was only there for three days. It hasn’t all been smooth-sailing in the north though. In fact, yesterday morning I was sure we were gonna get skunked to the max – our little Spanish jaunt to end in failure and embarrassment, with crumbly 2ft waves the only result.
After Barcelona we (the babe, her friend from back home plus that girl’s friend) high-tailed it up to the north coast to tourist hotspot San Sebastian. After a few days there we met up with a mate of mine from back home and his better half, hiring two cars and making our way west along the coast towards what we thought would be epic waves. But after three days it started looking as if we were cursed. The first day we surfed a 2-3ft onshore beachie and I still hadn’t got around to buying a new leash (I snapped mine in Panama a while back), which meant it was more like an extended swimming sesh than a surf. The second day we dedicated to quality babe time, while the third day we surfed a well-known bodyboarding spot but it was again small and onshore. The beach was also full of old guys bronzing their wangs (no shit, we counted six dudes, starkers, some on deck chairs with their wrinkly members pointing at us, others simply walking along sans-clothing strutting their stuff). I thought maybe it was the company I was surfing with – the past three surf trips I’ve done with my mate have resulted in 1. a blown head gasket on the Yorke Peninsula resulting in a written-off car and one of our dad’s having to drive the four hours to pick us up and take us home; 2. another mate Stubsy’s dad’s car breaking down (my cursed mate riding shotgun) in Port Augusta on the way to the South Oz desert, which meant we had to get towed back to Adelaide; and 3. me getting a staph infection in my leg, and the cursed one tearing a tendon in his elbow on the unforgiving Bingin reef, crashing a motorbike and getting bitten by a dog during our Indo trip in 2007. He has also rolled a car on the way home from the SA west coast on a separate trip with other mates, so I thought the curse was surely continuing in Spain. I half-expected that gnarly black dog from horror film classic “The Omen” to start growling at me on street corners.
There’s a scene in one of the classic Tension bodyboarding videos where Mitch Rawlins is narrating footage of this surf trip where him and the boys end up scoring epic waves after an otherwise shithouse day. He says something about how it was cloudy and windy as fuck and everyone was bummed out, but then late in the day miraculously the wind swung good, the rain stopped and the waves started pumping, “it just turned into one of them all-time sessions,” he says. My mate and I actually brought up this comment yesterday on the way back to our bungalow in Mundaka after our second shitty surf along the north coast, which makes it all the more amazing that when we arrived back the famously fickle lefthander was pumping out 4ft dredging gold. It really did just turn into one of them all-time sessions. Despite the crowds being in the category of ridiculous – my mate reckons he counted more than 60 peeps – I managed to snag close to 20 waves including three deep dropknee funnels I wont be forgetting in a hurry. Then today, with no expectations and content with my waves from yesterday, I managed to snag what would’ve been one of the best tubes of my life had I made it out. Not wanting to spoil my Mundaka experience I opted to bail out after scrapping only four waves or so from the once again next-level crowd. I was looking for a wave in and was about to give up and just paddle back to shore when a standup ate shit only a couple of metres away from me, gifting me a warping tunnel that is now firmly imprinted on my brain. I got so deep and the tube so dredgy, it dropped out at the end and I elbowed a hole in my board. Despite the fact I’m now basically boardless and am going to have to fork out money for a new sled somewhere, it was all worth it.
I’m currently sitting in a plush apartment a couple hours west of Mundaka about to go to get some ZZZs. Tomorrow I’ll hopefully score a sick wedge down the road that looks the goods according to the little video below I found on the interweb (we’ll see how long my basically snapped board will last). In other developments FearInEnglish is heading to the land of croissants and Zinedine Zidane next week, so stay tuned for that. See you in the funny pages.