Everyone Has To Start Somewhere.
Going
back around ten years, late 1990 into 1991, me and my friends discovered a
completely new way
of life. To this day it has moulded each one of us spiritually and physically,and
filled us with great memories so far in our lives. This new era began with
a little I'dea Jon had which begins like this......
Back then,
football was my life: not just for me but also for young Rup, Kev, Talbot
and my brothers, Bill
and Andrew. Playing football all weekend for the youth team and getting pissed
down in Brixham town on a Friday and Saturday night was our lives, it was
all we knew and all we would have known still. There are many of my friends
I have left on my journey through life; they still live in this sheltered
life style, and I occasionally bump into them on a Christmas eve or new years
night....I respect their lives as each and every person in this world are
unique, and hopefully get to choose their own destiny.
Another
New Year’s awaited us, me and the lads welcomed it in the usual way, in fancy
dress down Brixham town getting blind drunk. It was the end of 1990,and we
were all looking forward to the new year, and this was the year that would
change all of our lives..
Kev passed his driving test, followed shortly after by Rup. Talbot failed
(ha ha) and I hadn’t got my ticket yet. In the November previous, Jon,who
never really liked footie, (as he had 2 banana shaped left feet), had
been saying he'd bought some "boogie boards"(one his sisters), and had
been trekking down to Cornwall with his mum and sister trying to figure
out how to use these things. After a few demonstrations by Jon in the
attic, which is where the team chill out in my house, by lying on the
floor looking like he'd just been shot on a piece of yellow foam, me and
the rest of the crew were a bit sceptical. Hey! there wasn't 
any
surf in this country, and if there was it was only in a place called Newquay.
Little did we realise, that a tiny beach on the other sI'de of my hill
had perfect, 4-6ft clean waves on a force (not telling) wind. We knew
it got windy in Brixham, but we had no I'dea our local beach produced
total perfection. We hI'd our doubts, and we all believed Jon, so decI'ded
to go to ‘Europe's surfing capital’. This place was the magical NEWQUAY!
We had two drivers, Rup and Kev (at this time I hadn't yet passed!). Rup
had a lovely little racing green Mini with the racing white stripes on
the bonnet, a white roof and an exhaust the same size as my drainpipe!
Kev was also in a Mini which had a silver radiator grill, with stripes
down the sides to match. Think modern Starsky and Hutch in a mini stylee,,,
This was just gonna be a little holiday away from Devon with my friends.
In fact it was the first real time we all went on holI'day
together without parents in tail. We were a little short on equipment, so
for the trip I’d gone to Harbour Sports to buy a wetsuit. I was gonna take
my hot dog suit which we all had: a harbour sports original short
legged into vest style. Nice! At the time, rock jumping was the only watersport
we were into, which involved jumping off 70ft cliffs into 10ft water, making
sure we cleared the rocks at the bottom....insane now I look
back! I exited Harbour Sports with a Gul relic, two times too big for me,
and coloured dayglow yellow and blue, but at 25 quid I was sold! All that
was
left was a Calor gas, cup, knife, mess kit, tent and a sleeping bag, and I’m
off.....
All the lads equipped themselves similarly. Rup bought an Alder suit from
Dugs ( a 2mil thick baggy suit which Rup cunningly wore his hot dog underneath),
and this was to shape the future of Rup's wetsuit style. Any normal person
would buy a 4/5 mil winter suit for the death winter season, but he saved
his money by wearing 2 summer suits outback, in February {how dI'd he paddle?),
and then take an hour getting changed, while dying of hypothermia...Jon had
the infamous Peak
suit in stunning blue and yellow which lived on for many years after,
and I think Kev had a diving suit he managed to blag from somewhere...
it was dark blue all over and looked shit, but that guy was the warmest
out there! Talbot, well I think he just wore his good ol' hotdog.
After cramming all the gear into the two minis, we spent an hour arguing about
something or other, and then we finally set off to the northshore. We had
no idea how to get there, but good old Jon, the scout leader of our crew,
navigated as he was a veteran to these new shores. We headed down the A38,
changing in and out of lanes, arses's out and all that, but before we had
even hit Plymouth Kev's little baby had packed up on us. We hobbled into a
lay-by, our four heads peering into a 1974 'A' series 1000cc, and not really
having a clue what was up, but with the
combined effort of me, Rup and Kev (Jon wasn't into cars, mountain bikes were
his speciality, and Talbot wasn’t coming down till the next day on the train,
which was a bummer cause if anyone knew about minis, then it was that guy.
He had one for two years in his drive way, which he built and re-built over
and over again) We sorted the problem. I think it was over heating or something
so we topped up with water and sped off again. Driving a lot slower now in
case Kev's car packed up, eventually we arrived in
Newquay. Man, those hills all the way down were just killing those ol' minis!.
First stop was to find a campsite. It was a nightmare. No one would take all
male groups. Hey, we just wanted to surf, get slaughtered and play loud tunes
out of our cars all night in the company of some local
girlies!(no wonder they didn't have us). Eventually we drove out past Watergate
bay and set up in a little site called Penvose Farm. This was actually a stinking
hole with a sloping field and a very dodgy
caravan in one corner but, hey, it was 2 quid a night! This would be home
for the weekend. Tents were slowly erected (Jon basically put them up
himself as we had N.F.I), and the next step was to cruise down into town,
and hang out with da locals!
We thought Newquay was England's version of California, surf shops everywhere(
but nowhere near the amount today). One end of the town had Fistral Surf Company,
Boardwalk, Ocean Magic and Bilbo 2000 (Bilbo was the first proper surf
shop in Newquay), then grockle shops and chippies all the way down to the
main town(which are now mostly surf shops) then Smiles Surfshop, Northshore,
Hot Tuna, Hawaii Island Creation, and Surf and Save. (Me and Rup loved Surf
and Save, it
was much cheaper than the other surf shops and we were always out for a bargain..
this place and Liskeard Trago had cheap Gul sweats boots gloves
the lot!) If you kept walking you eventually get to the other Fistral Surf
Company shop and a dodgy surf shop. These were either side of a small roundabout.
I think that was it if you exclude the back street board
shapers (OceanMagic,Mac for H.I.C and a few more for Fistral surf company
and Bilbo etc...there was loads more guys shaping boards but we hadn't heard
of them yet!)......
We went in every surf shop totally stoked, seeing spanking new boards lined
up (surfboards just looked nice to us, bodyboarding was the future of
surfing). Bodyboards were limited back in 1991,you had a choice of Wave Rebel,
Morey Boogie, BZ or MadrI'd. (Jon's boards were MadrI'd's). I remember these
new boards had slick bottoms...WOW!! they were really hot.... the relics Jon
had were 100% sponge top and bottom. Unfortunately, we couldn't afford these
hundred plus babies, so we just drooled over them, thinkin of ways to save
and purchase them. All the clothes were cool, Billabong, Quicksilver Mambo,
and makes we hadn't even heard of like Rip Curl, Rusty and Sola. These clothes
way to expensive for us college boys, with jumpers costing more than a months
dosh! The wetties were the best we’d ever seen,(remembering pics in our mags
of pros wearing the makes on the rack, visualling ourselves slipping into
a brand new Quicksilver and paddling out back!!),again our budget dI'dn't
match these dreams so we made
do with stickers and any surf mag available(they sold back issues of Wavelength
in W H smiths so we cleaned them out!!!).
Honestly just walking in a surf shop smelling the new suits and fresh fibreglass
from new boards, sent you drifting into daydreams, imagining yourself out
there learning the trade, feeling a part of other soul
searchers finding themselves in the surf, riding waves all day every day getting
more and more stoked after every session, going bigger every
time, pushing your self to your limits and past, finally finding "individual
creativity" through riding waves, expressing yourself in a new way as a "unique
indivI'dual",not conforming to mass consciousness going with the herd like
a flock of sheep, never stepping out of line, working, watching mindless
tv, drinkin sleeping, working, watching 
mindless
TV.........and so on.............
Man!!
Everyone looked like a surfer, if you didn't have long hair you just did NOT
surf!(well that's what it looked like to us, we didn't have long or
short hair, we had that in-between hair,"curtains" style typical 17 year old
hair cut!!) so after this trip not one of us went to the barbers for at least
3 years( and I'm not joking, except for Talbot who was a respectable person
of the community.
Wed see a dread locked guy in town with a rip curl t shirt on and we’d think
"fuck
he looks hardcore" then 2 hours later he'd be drowning in the shorey on a
pop out! Then we’d see another guy in pipe jeans and a James Dean haircut...
"look at that dweeb" we’d say. Two hours later he's ripping up a 3ft wave,
carving his girlfriends name all along it, so from that day we never judged
someone until they were out there making the moves. We, though, looked liked
dweebs in our OP tee's and coloured jeans, and this matched our surfing ability
at that time!
After strolling around for hours trying to suss out Newquay it was time
to head up to Newquay's finest. This, of course, was the legendary Fistral
Beach. It’s 
the last place you stumble over on your trek through town, and walkin down
that last stretch just catching a glimpse of the sea and then the beach was
amazing. There was camper after camper parked along the strip leading down
to the sandy carpark over looking North Fistral, loads of people chilling
out round
their cars, smokin, drinking, playing cool tunes everywhere, waxing there
boards buzzing about to get wet.. Other people just getting out of the water
telling someone what it was like out there, then saying something like "a
swells coming in a few days big low off Lundy". We’d haven't a clue what they
were on about, but it was truly magical, and I wanted to be part of it. It
was the missing part of my life and my peers, a new era had begun, it started
on this
day........
It was really sunny, and the water was full of people. Man, they were everywhere.Swimmers,
stand-ups, bodyboarders, canoeists, waveskiers, lifeguards training and pulling
dweeb learners out of the surf, (and us if we were in there), everyone was
just having a great time, people of all ages, all stoked for just being out
there. Honestly it was such a buzz for us, we’d only tasted SpotM before,
our quiet local usually deserted accept for the odd rambler or dog walker.
I remember walking on the beach which had been raked clean of any rubbish,
the sand golden yellow, a light onshore warm breeze, blue skies, loads of
sun bathers (mostly totally gorgeous girls every where, this was when sunglasses
came into the crews "essential surfing accessories"
list!). By now we decI'ded to get the towels out, the boards and suits and
find a base on the beach. I don't know how I blagged it but I managed to
claim the spare boogie first, so I quickly suited up in me dayglow wettie,
looking extremely hardcore(not!). I grabbed da sponge and headed for the break
with Jon in tail. This was it! After trying to look cool walking down through
all the wind breaks, we resulted in sprinting down to the shore like two wild
coyotes, hooting at all the surfers out back.(what dweebs..) We kept in between
the red and yellow flags as we thought that was the place to be, and strangely
there were no hardened locals there...(little did we realise this was the
"swimmers only" section). After much despair trying to get the shitty wrist
leashes on, we finally managed to wade out toward the 1ft clean surf: at the
same time a lifeguard approached us "o no here comes a lecture". To our surprise
his words were "its a little bit small for you guys today", obviously thinking
we were experienced. Buzzin, I think we saI'd "yeah bra but were bored" then
quickly doggy paddled away from
him. We headed out the back(which was only 10ft from the shore) and eventually
we got out there (arms feeling like noodles) and waited for our first wave....
I remember trying to catch everything that rolled in, (not taking a blind
bit of notice of other surfers already on the wave. I was suppose to pull
off any wave where a surfer was closest to the shoulder. I hadn't yet come
across this golden rule, so ignorance was bliss...)The waves were really weak
so it was hard enough trying to get on them, I watched other bodyboarders
and tried to copy their technique, stand ups were way out of my league man!
Those guys were stood on a 6ft pieces of fibreglass, actually carving up and
down the wave, which was totally incomprehendable..
After an hour or so of pissing good surfers off, getting in the way, and looking
like a dead man on a life raft heading straight for the beach and into what
seemed like millions of swimmers acting as human skittles, ready to be mowed
down by this dweeb(me),I finally retreated to the chaps who were eagerly awaiting
there turn in surf. It was Rup and Kev's turn to show Newquay what the boys
from Brixham had to offer!(Hopefully more than me and Jon dI'd.) In minutes
they were legging down the beach again like two wild men from borneo, hooting
at the surfers. I dried off and lied back on my towel basking in the warm
sun, stoked. I’d actually surfed not only in Cornwall but in Newquay on Fistral
beach! Me and Jon chatting about what waves we had in
great detail (just holding on more like) I had a refreshing feeling after
I'd been in the water that day, something that's never left me even to
this day.
When I get out of the water. I feel totally relaxed, all my muscles aren't
tense, my head washed out of all worries(literally), and an inner calming
radiates, I usually feel a little light headed and always stoked whatever
the session was like, and always wishing for more waves. Its true but the
more regular you get in the surf the more intense the feeling gets about wanting
to go, its an eternal feeling that I personally don't think will ever leave
us all, the desire is always there. I know a few close friends who rarely
go
these days, but inside they will never lose that feeling, a feeling all surfers
have ingrained in them, the feeling of riding waves with your friends, blue
skies,4ft clean surf, warm water with only a shorty on. Everyone looking out
back, watching and waiting for your next wave, you see some sets way out
back. Everyone starts paddling further out, you charge on out there an bang
you are in the perfect place at the right time, it’s just about to break a
steep
right and you’re lined up for the shoulder, you turn and start to paddle into
the section now facing your friends who are all starting to wooooooo!
You start to quickly paddle as the wave sets up perfect, always looking down
the line, still paddling, focusing intensely, your board is planing and up
you pop like a cat, smooth and effortless in one motion. Now ahead of you
is a perfectly lined up 4ft right hander. You hammer down the shoulder cutting
down the line, carving freely up and down the wave without a care in the world.
Everyone is hooting you, you cant help but smile, working the wave, making
through the sections, again lining up onto the shoulder, then into a steep
section till you reach the inside. You pop over the back just before it folds
into the shorey, looking back at the line out with your
mates waving and yelling your name, you pull your board up and paddle back
out totally stoked !
It felt
like Rup and Kev were out in the surf forever, all I wanted to do was go back
in, wishing I had my own board and a decent wetsuit. Eventually they came
back to our base on the beach with huge grins, totally stoked trying to speak
at the same time about their first experience. We chilled out getting tans
for the rest of the afternoon: you can guess what we're talking about.
Talbot
arrived that afternoon; he had had to work on the Friday, so he caught the
train down. He was stoked as much as us at the whole scene, it wasn't long
before he suited up and had a go in the surf....much the same response from
him when he got out. So we all had a go and all convinced that this was definitely
the future for us all..
Quick stop at the chippy on the way back to the campsite (we were totally
fucking knackered and starving..) and chilled at the site early evening all
having a shower( which smelt of animals, but it did the job) on with the brut
and gel, (nice) knocked a ball around for a while, forced down a few Compass
lagers, bargain price of19p for these 2% lagers from Somerfield in the town
centre,bargains. You needed at least 4 to one can of Stella! We were ready
to hit the town.
It was
a beautiful summers evening, a cool breeze perfect sunshine, loads of people
out (seemed
like every beautiful girl was in Newquay, we fell in love every 5 minutes,
Kev was buzzing big smiles everywhere all saying "she's looking at me na mate
she's looking at me" and so on. But at the end of the day we were dweeb learner
kooks from south Devon so local girls were out of the question, so we preyed
on the city girls where we probably had more chance
of pulling, but inevitably we didn't!(no change there then)...
We went to a few pubs. I think we were in a pub near Ocean Magic, stood outside
with our lagers looking cool (mmm...) If we saw some girls we’d stand
near them raising our voices about are waves we ripped in that day. (A trick
Dan southcombe picked up on later in our journey through time) If the girls
knew anything about surfing we would have been rumbled!
After a few beers we decided to head back to the farm, we’d had about 2 pints
each, so we were slaughtered! There was only one thing left to do: the chaps
dared me to get a jazz mag in the newsagents. A bit drunk, I swanned in and
nervously
reached for the top shelf hoping to god the person behind the counter was
male....So we headed back and put Kev in charge of reading out those 3 in
a bed scenarios, Kev was always the best at reading porn stories....After
reading every story out and drooling over the pictures for a few hours we
turned in completely stoked from the day we had and looking forward to our
last day!
Everyone woke at exactly the same time. This may sound weird but the reason
for this was close by the farm, the M.O.D had an airfield in the next field.
There was an exercise on, and this resulted in jets flying mach 10 over the
tents all fucking
day, and it started at around 6 am. Now that was the loudest alarm clock I've
ever heard. We reluctantly got up, quick wash and off we set, all starving,
and stopped at the first cafe we found, near Fistral Surf Company,. For the
first time tasted the infamous
"baconbomber"(basically bacon in a baguette and a free coffee for a quid.)
We strolled
around the town for a bit. Eventually we went up to Fistral beach to check
the surf but unfortunately it had dropped off and it looked like a swimming
pool. Gutted.
But we paddled about for a bit anyway.
Everyone had a session so we were still stoked....
Then it was back to the farm to pack up and head back to sunny Devon. Back
to the girlfriends(who didn't approve of us letches all going to Newquay together,
What us?.
The minis were crammed to the roof, stickers were peeled and stuck on the
back windows and we were gone. A quick stop off at Dobwalls garage which sells
the best pasties ever anywhere!. Then a scene finding 40p for the Tamar bridge,
(we were poor students!).
Finally we make it home.....
Well that's how it went, our lives were changed forever, who knows what we
would have been into if we hadn't set off to Newqauy. We’d probably be just
a bunch of "mid-twenty" Sunday league footballers, spending our days off in
the local after the match reciting every Liverpool player since 1878...
So I'd like to thank all my closest friends Rup, Jon, Kev, Talbot, Dugs, my
bros (who started surfing a year or so later) Stu, Rob, and of course Mayer,
not forgetting Dean, Barbie, Dan Southcombe(lets go
Paignton!!!)Dan's bro Adam, Tony, Gary and Ed! For all playing a big part
in my surfing life: if it weren't for those guys pulling their "wet" wetsuits
out of their bags on a below zero January easterly morning at Spot M, I would
have thrown the towel in years ago..!
cheers guys your the best................
"only a surfer knows the feeling"
By Craig.
