Moules et Frites and Filthy Waves.
In May 2000 I had my first ever surf holiday abroad. The venue was France and Spain and it was a great holiday apart from the fact Rup didn't make it ( you may have read that story ).
The continental sessions were a bit sketchy for me, as the most powerful waves I'd surfed before were the good old Fistral and Watergates. My first break surfed abroad was Anglet; it was only about 4 ft but it was pretty heavy and I noticed the difference in power the moment I paddled out. I still held my own though, and I had no problems at all after catching some good waves.
As each session went by I was getting more and more confident, and I was surfing really well, ( in fact better than ever before ) but one of my sessions needed something to get that back because I lost it. It all started when me, Craig and Jon decided to eat out one evening. Craig had pizza, Jon had an Italian cheesy pasta type thing, and me (because I was running low on money ), went local with mussels and chips.
Big mistake. Why?
I'll tell you. Next morning, we arrived at seignosse and it was looking good, but I felt like shit and I didn't know why. My stomach was aching so much. I told craig and Jon that I was not going in, they just thought 'oh well he's missing out then' and in they went leaving me with the key to the car.
I spent an hour reading and I suddenly started to urge so I locked the car, fumbled through my wallet for 2 francs and rushed to the superloo w.c. Safely locked in I was as sick as a pig. I didn't thing I was going to stop, and I was sweating like fuck. It was obviously the mussels from the previous evening. When I got myself together I decided I wanted to go in the water, but I couldn't because I had the car key. Craig and Jon were in the water and they'd only been in an hour or so. If I went in, and couldn't find them to give them the key, they'd be locked out. So for two hours I roamed around the carpark, smoking fags, drinking water and perving at topless birds in the outdoor public showers.
After a while I saw Jon getting out, so I ran back to the car, got suited up and chucked the key at him. I legged it to the beach.
I paddled out back and sat and waited for my first wave. Almost immediately a wave came my way. I turned and started paddling. Nothing, missed it. It was just not breaking at all, just backing off like a pussy in a boxing ring. I spent a good hour or so doing this, paddling for nothing, and got so pissed off, thinking that today was just not meant to be. I starting paddling in.
As I got closer to the shore, a large A-frame came out of nowhere, so I went for it. Suddenly it jacked up and I caught a huge sucky 4 ft barrel, but at the end of the wave all I could see was sand. I panicked and pulled off immediately, and thought 'Wow the shorey wasn't working earlier..' I just watched everyone ripping in this near enough perfect shorey. I decided to paddle back out and try again thinking to myself that I've had such a shit day today so what if I die! Eventually I took off again, and the wave peeled a treat as I charged down the line. I saw the lip come over me and I saw death, but I was past caring now. My luck changed, and death turned into the barrel of my life. As I got spat out on to the shoulder, five stand ups hooted right at me, acknowledging my sick ride. I paddled back out, and watched the 5 stand ups take off one by one, like they had rehearsed it or something, and fuck me did they rip; pulling huge aerials, cutbacks, off the lips you name it. I decided to share the peak they were on, (Hey, Iwas there first ) and as I was waiting for the next set the 5 rippers reappeared. They were waiting too.
I noticed that their wetsuit brands were displayed clearly on their boards, and as I looked over at the shoreline there was a big crowd of people gathered round, watching the action. To top it off, a fucking photographer appeared in the water! These guys were obviously pros and I'm on their peak surfing like a twat.
In the end I figured I had just as much right to the waves, so I just got on with it and took off expecting to be dropped in on. To my surprise they pulled off for me, and the photographer took a shot off me and the fucking crowd were hooting me! That was it, I was buzzing and I pushed myself to the limit, surfing the best I ever have. I was pulling off move after move, just so I wouldn't show myself up.
I wished all my mates were there to witness it because their was some impressive surfing going on, and, I'm proud to say, bodyboarding. Hey, who knows, maybe I made it into a French surf mag that month!
I also now know that inspiration comes from others. All you stand ups who hate spongers ( and vice versa ), get yourselves together and give each other some respect, for fuck sake. Five of the worlds best gave me some, so take a leaf out of their books. At the end of the day stand ups, spongers, waveskiers, longboarders, whatever we all do, we all love the same thing, and that's riding waves. Lets keep it that way.
By Phil. (Rather Stoned.)
