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Those of you with a tender disposition, look away. Here are the Surf Punks with the kind of song that just isn't heard, made or recorded any more.
Hang on, it's the Ed. He says: But do you think that kind of song is still imagined? Or thought? If it is, should it be?
I tell him it's just some footage from an obscure Malibu band from 1976, the year that QPR nearly won the League. It has socio-cultural value and shouldn't be ignored.
You're right, says the Ed. And then he exclaims:
OK, I admit it! I used to love the Surf Punks! Where has all the fun gone? Look at the fun they're having, like real surfers! We're all so PC now that there's no fun anymore! Not even in surfing! I want fun, and I want it now!
He's the Ed, so I give him what he wants. As I was saying, here are the Surf Punks - with the kind of song that perhaps should never have been recorded...
I've admired Richard Attenborough for many years. He's intelligent and humane; resourceful and curious; urbane and well-spoken. Here he is talking about J-Bay, surfing and dolphins. It's great stuff, but I'm reminded of something Fuz Bleakley said to me a while ago: "When you do surf with a dolphin, it's not that relaxing. They're big animals, and you don't know what they're going to do next."
Check out this footage and ask yourself - would it be worth shouting at a dolphin if he or she dropped in on you? And if it's not, maybe next time an alien in the water - like a kook, or a beginner, or maybe a longboarder, perhaps even a shortboarder or - God forbid - an intermediate or pro surfer - drops in on you, chill and let it go.
Many thanks to all who posted in response to my request for comments. At this rate I may yet escape my fate of incarceration within the walls of Wapping, so please keep up the good work.
Meanwhile, I am nearing the end of War and Peace. So far I have not spotted a single surfing allusion, which is a grave disappointment. How can Tolstoy be seen as the world's greatest novelist, if he fails to mention surfing?
My devotion to the Russian icon's monumental tome has led to a mass of books on my bedside, at least five of which look very interesting. Here they are, in the order that I'll tackle them.
1. The Interloper by Antoine Wilson. Antoine is based in California and has been known to comment on this site. Doing so is not the reason for my mentioning his book here. He has a fine, punchy writing style and I'm looking forward to getting into The Interloper. Given that Antoine's a surfer, his book might even contain the occasional surfing reference.
2. Return by Water by Kimball Taylor. This collection of surf stories came through the post some time ago. Chris Mauro, editor of Surfer, and Evan Slater, editor in chief of Surfing, are fans. Definitely full of surfing.
3. Sea of Movement by Jeff Kozlowski. Again, this arrived a while back. Gorgeous cover and a good blog, too. 100% full of surfing.
4. Liquidation by Imre Kertesz. OK, I admit it. I've been reading this when infuriated by Tolstoy's refusal to write about surfing. It's brilliant, but lacks any hint of surfing.
5. Night Letters by Rose Hilton. I recently interviewed Rose for the FT, with pictures shot by Mike Newman. She's a superb artist whose first solo retrospective is currently on show at the Tate St Ives (and, for those reading this who are based in my neck of the woods, her drawings can be seen at HiltonYoung in Penzance). I found a copy of her book of letters from her late husband, the brilliant Roger Hilton, in a bookshop in London (near Wapping...). Looks quite extraordinary. No surfing, though Rose's son Bo paddled out at Sennen with me the other day.
That's enough about books. The surf at Sennen was nice this morning and I returned home to write a piece about Al Mennie, Duncan Scott, Gabe Davies and Richie Fitzgerald for The Sunday Times. Check it out this coming weekend, in the In Gear section.
There are any number of magnificent facets to this 1967 episode of Batman, in which the caped crusader does battle with The Joker in surf that mutates uncannily from 2ft to 30ft (and back again) in less time than it takes to say "Boy Wonder: My Life in Tights was not a mistake."
They just don't make 'em like this anymore. (There is a very good reason for that. Ed.)
Last week, after toiling for hours through perilous underground labyrinths and navigating endless corridors, I found myself at a desk in Wapping. Opposite me was the Times' blog-meister. He informed me that traffic for this humble blog was impressive and that the large number of sites linking to it was further indication of its place in a vibrant online community. This was all good, and I was happy. But then the blog-meister peered through the gloom (we were in Wapping, after all) and said "There's just one thing. The comments."
Oh no! What has someone gone and said?! was my immediate thought. But that wasn't the issue.
"There need to be more comments on the site," said the blog-meister. "Traffic, links and comments are the three criteria by which we evaluate the success - or otherwise - of a blog." The blog-meister tasked me with ensuring that you, my dear readers, interact a little more with this site.
I pondered how to go about ensuring that comments appear more often for some time, but, after being hit in the head at St Just Amateur Boxing Club last night, had a brainwave. Why don't I put up a post saying 'Please comment on this site'?
So that's what I've done. All comments, especially on this request for comments, are welcome. Otherwise, as the blog-meister said: "We will keep you here in Wapping forever." Please don't let them do that to me...
Pete Robinson, of The Surfing Museum, drops me the following line:
And so, almost 40 years after he created the ill-fated British Surfer (which lasted just six issues), 1960s surf star Rod Sumpter is launching a new surfing magazine - The Surfers World.
"Inspiration for everyone - beginners and experts" it says on the mock-up of the first cover. But do we really need another surfing mag in the UK, or anywhere else in the developed world for that matter? Aren't all the niches already covered with publications from The Surfer's Path to Pit Pilot?
The cover, replete with full page photo of Mr Sumpter, looks very dated to me, the captions not terribly well written and there are typos in the advertising rate card. Australian Sumpter settled in Cornwall in the 1960s and in recent years has punted out a few books and DVDs, 'recreated' the famous Britannia longboard first made by Bilbo. So will The Surfers World (where's the apostrophe?) last longer than British Surfer? Only you, the surfing public, will decide.
I recently received a very nice email from a very nice chap who wrote as follows:
"We have recently performed a complimentary check of your website. Our results and data are as follows. Based upon this check, we note that your website - www.tomandersonbooks.com - has 32 links." The email went on to explain how Tom's website was faring and gently suggested that if I were to subscribe to the nice chap's service, even more links, interaction and, yes, book sales would come my (i.e, Tom's) way.
I wrote back as follows:
"Dear Mr X,
Thank you for your email. Your service might be of interest but I am slightly mystified.
You refer to my website and promise to reveal the data gleaned via your complimentary assessment of its health (or otherwise), but rather than doing this you in fact reveal the figures for Tom Anderson's website.
For your information, Tom Anderson is an evil Welshman with a dark secret - he was born in Watford and knows someone called 'The Gill.'
You have been warned."
Strangely enough, shortly after sending this - CCd to Tom - one of The Gill's trademark missives arrived. It looked dangerous, so I decided to contemplate next steps. And as I sit here, pondering my next move, I see that Tom Anderson has criticized my 'excellent facial grimace' skate shot.
Don't be deceived by his boyish good looks and knowledge of space-docking (what's that? Ed.). He is, truly, an evil Welshman.
Beach Bum recently posted an intriguing piece of footage from the enlightened folk at Reef.
Watch it and marvel at the way in which Reef's ultra-PC marketing gurus continue to nurture the company's "cool and casual attitude of the beach with a commitment to nurturing the lifestyle that follows."
Swoon as you encounter "the elite class of Reef ambassadors that scour the globe in search of
the best waves, surrounded by some of the most beautiful and remote
places on the planet" (er, where is the surfing in this footage? Ed.).
Declare yourself in love with the "fantasy that only a small portion of the world ever gets to experience."
And thank the Lord for Reef, the company "all about finding that place, and savoring the feeling no matter where you may be."
Or: wonder whether the title of Vladimir Nabokov's Despair doesn't best sum up your feelings at such extraordinary sexploitation in surfing.
 But you can't take the suit out of the skater. Or maybe it's the other way round?
Anyway, what a top afternoon I had today, skating on Sennen Cove esplanade with Russ Pierre taking some shots for both Huck and The Sunday Times' 'In Gear' section. Huck are running a piece on old-school skaters who never stopped in the next issue, and The Sunday Times is planning something on the phenomenon that is Middle Age Shred. Both pieces required me to carve around on my beloved Original Path 37, so that's what I did. Sometimes work is fun - even though, as this shot from Russ shows, I opted to leave the Twat Cap at home.
Here is a record of today's post-surf conversation.
"Dad, you can't blame yourself for not getting out the back today."
"Yes, I can."
"But it was big and breaking on the rocks."
"It wasn't that big. I stupidly wasn't wearing a hood or any gloves and felt numb from the cold and gave up. I decided it was just too hideous and that I couldn't face it."
Harry infers, not unreasonably, that some degree of reason is present in this analysis, relatively reasonable as it is. So he asks (not without reason): "Then why are you in such a bad mood?"
"Because it was stupid to paddle out in the middle of January without a hood."
Inwardly, what I'm actually thinking is: I waited until 3.30pm to pick up Harry for a post-school surf, and blew it. By the time we got to the beach a very full tide was breaking on the rocks. Harry and his friend Mark took one look and, quite reasonably, didn't fancy it. Nor did I but some collective 'we must surf' demon possessed us and got into our wetsuits to paddle out. At the water's edge the boys thought better of it. I felt I ought to give it a go and, full of misgivings from recent flu, work stress and generally feeling out of sorts, started to paddle out. My head was screaming with pain after a couple of duck dives. It wasn't big and I could have got out the back, but I just felt horrendous and came in.
Harry pauses. "But you were surfing the other day without a hood."
"Be quiet."
Just then Ali from the Windswept Gallery in St Just comes over. "Good?" she asks.
"No, it was s***," is my uncharacteristically blunt reply. Ali asks how so, for unlike me she timed her arrival to perfection and scored good waves earlier in the afternoon.
"I wasn't wearing a hood, my head felt numb and I just went off the whole thing half way through paddling out. I got very cold and hated it, and came in."
Ali nods sympathetically, for she is A Good Person. Perhaps inwardly she is thinking: "Hmmm, I've seen Alex out in bigger than that, and without a hood too. I wonder what's up with him?" However, she is too nice to voice such thoughts. I promise to meet her tomorrow and vow to time my arrival at the beach correctly, whereupon we will enjoy that which is proving so elusive lately (for me, at least) - a good surf. Meanwhile, as Ali suggests that I take out any lingering frustration in the boxing gym, not elsewhere, Harry has been pondering the situation.
"Dad, Twat Caps (I'm not sure we should allow this term. Ed.) look so uncool. I don't think you should wear one. Especially not after that picture in Pit Pilot."
"I know, son," said I, but then, suddenly mindful of the deluge of letters from surf babes around the world who were lucky enough to see Greg 'It's a flattering shot, really Alex' Martin's recent picture of me in said mag, I made an announcement. "But It Is Time. Time for the Twat Cap."
And so it came to pass that I failed to hold out and surf through the winter without a Twat Cap (is this really what they're called? Ed). Tomorrow I will wear one loud, and I will wear it proud. It's simply too humiliating to start to paddle out and then turn back because of the cold and I cannot let it happen again.
But as for gloves - no. I will fight them on the beaches, I will fight them on the streets, I will fight them in the fields and I will fight them in Chapel Idne if I have to but whatever happens, I will not, ever, wear gloves to go surfing.
Last night I was toying with the idea of posting My Very Own Guide to Fitness. I'd had a good session at St Just Amateur Boxing Club, itself preceded by another one of my regular activities - running from my house up the cliff path to the Minack Theatre with my loyal hound. I felt strong and healthy, confident that at the age of 41 I am still fitter than a lot of young whipper-snappers out there, and, for a few blissfully deluded minutes, wondered if I might share a few tips for well-being with the world.
This morning, I woke up feeling decidedly out of sorts, and now, as the evening wears on, I feel dreadful. It is quite possible that far from being in a position to offer anything constructive in terms of advice for fitness and health, I am, in fact, doing far too much. So, pending a collapse into exhaustion caused by excess exercise, here, rather than My Very Own, and Highly Dubious, Guide to Fitness, are some more shots from Simon Jayham, at large on the North Shore.
Good to hear from Peter Robinson of The Surfing Museum, who tells me of a new exhibition on art and surfing. As he says: "Art and surfing have been inextricably linked for hundreds of years, from early sketches of surfers during the voyages of Captain James Cook in the 18th century and iconic hand sculpted wooden surfboards, to the flower power of the 1960s and garish fluorescent colours of the 1980s. The act of riding a wave itself is perhaps the purest form of surfing
art - the surfer propelled by a pulse of energy from mother nature,
painting lines on the ever changing canvas of the wave - but surfing art occurs in paintings, posters, photography and film. With help from Oxbow and Kind Design, we've put together an exciting new show featuring some of the best examples of the blend of surfing and art."
Among the artefacts on display will be original British surfboards dating back almost a century, as well as an eclectic mix of memorabilia showing beguiling artwork from the creative minds of surfers and those inspired by surfing. Also on show will be stunning replicas of ancient Hawaiian surfboards hand carved by the Tom Pohaku Stone – a lecturer in Hawaiian culture and surfer of legendary status.
The show can be seen at Havant Museum in Hampshire form January 19th to March 1st 2008; the Red House Museum in Christchurch, May 3rd to June 14th, and at the National Fishing Heritage Centre in Grimsby, June 28th to September 7th 2008. See The Surfing Museum for more information. Also don't forget to check out Club of the Waves - a top site with some great surfing artwork.
I'm just about to hit the road from London for God's Own County, but before I go let me direct those readers who admire Sharpy's photography as much as I do to www.surfphoto.co.uk. As you'll know, Sharpy had to close Slide recently - a great shame because it was different, a tad subversive and packed with awesome shots. Sharpy tells me he'll be contributing to the UK's longest-running surf mag, Wavelength, so look out for his work there and check out Surfphoto. Here are a couple of Sharpy's typically clean and crisp shots, of St Ives surfer Tassy Swallow in Portugal.
Meanwhile see this link for what Simon Jayham found in the water the other day - not my cup of tea at all, even the baskers scare me (they're very big, and what if they whacked you with their tail?).
My week is proving more expensive than I'd expected.
Monday: Sam Smart calls to offer me his 6'0" Surftech TL2 for £150. Perfect for Harry so I say yes. (Don't tell him - it's hidden and he has to earn it.) I also buy a pair of wetsuit boots for £10.00. Total unforeseen spend of £160.
Tuesday: Drive to London but forget to pay congestion charge. Unexpectedly I am another £50 worse off.
Wednesday: Awake at friend's house in Brixton and realise that we've all forgotten that I need a resident's permit to park free of censure. A warden has already put a parking ticket on the car; not content with this, he returns 10 minutes later and clamps it. Cost not budgeted for: £130.
Thursday: No disasters so far though thinking about it, did I stray into the Congestion Charging zone yesterday by accident? Not sure but better pay £10.00 just in case.
Tomorrow: Return to Cornwall. Hopefully no extras, just the fuel. Meanwhile, check this link - good to see that the UK Pro Surf Tour will be back soon, bigger and better than ever.
Here I am in London (again) but the slew of medical bags from the MV Endeavour continues. Rich Hardy from SAS tells me that they've made their way up the coast to Porthtowan. Tony Plant also gave me one that he'd found in Newquay on the weekend, a horrible-looking thing that's now made its way to London because I failed to remove it from the boot of my car. I have a feeling that Rich might be making a personal return of some of the bags to the Endeavour's Dutch head office - more on this soon.
Meanwhile, good luck to Sam Smart who heads off to Oz for a few months today. His new website has a blog - check it out for updates of what Sam's up to in Australia. Also check this page for a picture of a very cool old school skater (who he? Ed).
Well done to Aggie surfwear company Finisterre, who have just been nominated for this award.
And finally, as they say on the News at Ten, the River Thames is flat, grey and unsurfable, while my local break is going off. Always the way.
I'm just back from Sunday night training at St Just Amateur Boxing Club.
It was a hard session but good.
In the room to next to my office, the TV is on. I can hear the dulcet sounds of the accompanying music to Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility, adapted for the BBC by Andrew Davies. Usually, my 12-year-old son Harry goes boxing with me, but tonight he opted instead for Jane Austen. Right now, he is watching the last few minutes of the programme with his Mum. What, I wonder, has possessed him to do this? He is even, believe it or not, reading - and enjoying - the book. Extraordinary. Harry has never evinced a literary side. Something very strange, and no doubt hormonal, is happening.
The programme has just ended. Harry has burst into my office, demanding to know what training was like. He is shadow boxing and telling me that he is a better boxer than me.
All is right with the world.
While talking to Duncan Scott and Al Meanie yesterday, a question popped into my rain-lashed brain: is it actually fun to surf the kind of wave pictured here (courtesy of top surfing snapper Mickey Smith)?
I was prompted to ask by remembering the last really good wave I had - a shoulder-to-head high right hander, under a clear blue November sky, that seemed to go on forever and sat up beautifully for the whole of its duration. The sensation, as all surfers know, of carving on a wave like that is one of the most exquisite pleasure. You don't want it to stop and when you do kick out, the ride over, you paddle straight back out for another one.
In contrast, it struck me that riding the kind of monsters taken on by Duncan and Al at Mullagmore Head last December doesn't offer quite the same burst of pure fun. They agreed. As Al put it: "The pleasure comes when you've made the wave, when you've got to the channel safely." This reminds me of something Newquay legend Jed Stone told me a while back - that when you're deep inside a triple overhead Porthleven barrel, the main thing on your mind is getting out the other end in one piece.
It must be an incredible feeling, making the drop on a wave the size of a fairly large building and racing down the line, but for the majority, pure fun will have to do.
What is it with my mates? They never tell me when there's been a good review of Surf Nation (there have been some - honest!) but call me within seconds of the appearance of one that's bad or indifferent. Cheers, lads! Yesterday one of them took this excellent game to new levels, calling me breathlessly to say "Are you listening to the radio? They're talking about surfing books and guess what, Steve Bunce says Andy Martin's Stealing the Wave is the best sports book ever written! You gotta love it!"
I did, indeed, love it. The Cambridge don, who refuses to surf on our shores, severely dissed the UK and Irish scene when he reviewed Surf Nation. Let me remind you of his immortal opening par, which, as my mates know, never fails to bring a smile to my face: "[Wade's] simple and pretty implausible thesis is that surfing around these shores is something other than an exercise in masochism and madness. Contrary to popular prejudice, we live in a kingdom by the surf. The only trick is finding any."
(Er, try telling that to Duncan Scott and Al Meanie, whom I caught up with yesterday at The Cribbar. Somehow, they managed to spot 55ft waves off Ireland last December and surf them, likewise a 40ft session at Aileens a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday my son Harry and I surfed nice and clean Great Western at a solid 3-4ft, so astonishingly we also managed to find some surf. Our experience of surfing is radically different from that of Scott, Meanie and the other tow-surfers charging in Ireland, but all of us are united by one simple fact - we go surfing here, because, er, there is surf.)
Anyway, ever since Martin aired his remarkable views about surfing in Britain and Ireland I have, if I'm honest, found it difficult to take him seriously. Doubts have gnawed away about Stealing the Wave and they're echoed in this review, from the San Diego Union Tribune.
The next paperback edition of Martin's book is out on 4 February, so if you haven't read it yet, soon you'll have a chance to see if you agree with Steve. Meanwhile, what is the best sports book ever written?
I wasn't alone when I wondered what well-known surf snapper Greg Martin would do with his first issue of Pit Pilot. Greg took the helm as editor a couple of months ago and faced a challenge: to retain Pit Pilot's core style - edgy, underground, and with heavily lad's mag feel - or do something different with it. The latter course would be risky, but many people felt there'd be no harm in a fresh take on the mag.
As it happens, Greg has done a great job. There's an appropriately wintry sheen to the new issue and the kind of awesome shots those who know Greg have come to expect. The legendary early December Ireland session at Mullagmore Head is covered (with a terrifying shot of an outsize bomb by Tony Plant) and there's a great debate between Alf Alderson and a long-time friend of his over the ethics underlying surfing guidebooks (to tell all, or not?). There are even one or two semi-naked females. All in all a job well done - check it out.
There's also a piece by me on surfing in winter. I've posted it below but if you want to see the accompanying photograph - in which I look as debonair, handsome and stylish as it's possible to be - you'll have to buy the mag.
Continue reading "Pit Pilot and Winter is Here" »
Check out Huck's very cool new website - and look out for the latest issue of the mag. Here's a sample of what's inside.
I was in London a few days ago and took a water taxi from Tower Bridge to Bankside. Very nice, too. However, as I looked at the water - a deep grey-brown, veering to black, with visibility of perhaps half an inch - I found myself thinking how lucky I was to live in the far west of Cornwall, where I can paddle out in crystal clear surf (even if, of late, I'm likely to encounter a saline drip in a plastic bag - thanks Baxter!).
On the water taxi I found myself imagining, rather unaccountably, what it would be like to surf on our ancient and venerable river, the prompt being the wake thrown up by the many boats criss-crossing the Thames. After all, we surf the River Severn, so why not the Thames?
This reverie didn't last long, for the water flowing through our capital city is so disgusting that only a lunatic would contemplate immersing him or herself in it. I got off at Bankside and wandered amidst the Tate Modern, all thoughts of surfing in London obliterated.
But lo, it seems that I am wrong. Check out this story from today's Guardian. It reports on plans to build an outdoor surfing complex in Tower Hamlets. I'd be interested in what people think about this - check out Drew Kampion's view in the piece - but meanwhile, all I'll say is that when I venture to The Times, to ply my very occasional trade as a night lawyer, I find myself in Tower Hamlets. When there, I often skate around on my Path 37 deck. The denizens of this part of London look at me with extreme bemusement. It strikes me that if they're struggling conceptually with skateboarding, there's way to go before surfing hits the spot.
Artist's impression of outdoor surfing pool on The Thames courtesy of Barker & Coutts architects.
The sea is a roaring mess round here just now. Howling gales and relentless rain, one window pane out of the greenhouse overnight and not a decent wave in sight (though see this story from today's Times for recent action at the Cribbar*).
The storms will no doubt produce more wreck, as it's known in these parts, as to which here's a press release from SAS on the saline drips currently littering the beach**.
Surfers Against Sewage (SAS) campaigners (including Andy Cummins, pictured) this week recovered 80 ‘Baxters’ medical bags washed up at Sennen Cove, Cornwall. The bags have also been reported on beaches on the Isles of Scilly, Marazion and Flushing, near Falmouth.
The medical bags are plastic and contain sodium chloride (salt) and Nutrineal (amino acid) solutions and were en route from Ireland to Spain to be used in hospitals. The products were part of a container shipload that left Castlebar on the 10th December bound for the port of Bilbao in Northern Spain. The vessel carrying these products, the MV Endeavor, reportedly met high seas off the Isles of Scilly and it was subsequently found that 11 containers had been lost overboard. The containers are also believed to contain raw tobacco, milk powder, wooden doors, scaffolding and non-toxic fibre.
SAS are concerned by the increasing impact of shipping containers lost at sea on the marine environment and those using the water for recreation and have written to the Shipping Minister for his assessment of the situation in UK waters. Lloyd's estimated worldwide container underway losses to have reached 10,000 per year in 2004.
Only last year over 100 containers spilled overboard when the MSC Napoli got into difficulties in local waters. £50million was spent on the clean up though not before it had a devastating affect on local wildlife with over 1000 sea birds affected by the disaster. It is quite possible that these see-through PVC medical bags will be mistaken by local wildlife for jellyfish and if swallowed could cause death or serious injury.
SAS have also sent some of the medical bags to the ship owners (Endeavor Shipping BV in the Netherlands) and the ship’s International Safety Management company (JR Ship Management BV in the Netherlands) who are responsible for the safe operation of the ship and its pollution prevention. We expect a comprehensive report from them on the how this incident occurred. This forms part of our ‘Return To Offender’ anti-beach litter campaign - see this link.
Richard Hardy, SAS Campaigns Director, says: “While the salt solution inside the medical bags will feel quite at home in the sea, its plastic bag can cause all kind of trouble, particularly for local marine wildlife. With lost shipping containers increasingly being noticed as responsible for beach litter incidents SAS would like to see an urgent investigation carried out by the Department of Transport into its true impact for UK coastal waters”.
*PS: I know - the Cribbar doesn't break only once a year. I will have words with my colleagues on the news desk.
**PPS: Baxter's press office is united with BA's in apparently having a policy of not answering journalists' questions. Well, mine, at least. What is it about these massive conglomerates?
What's scarier - the Norfolk Great White or a condom that glows in the dark? Check out this footage, sent to me by The Gill - there's a Great White there, somewhere...
Here's Neil Watson with a radical reappraisal of the possibility of a Great White lurking in the icy waters of East Anglia.There seems to be less to the sensationalised "great white snacks on Norfolk seal" story than meets the eye. Before the much-published pic of the dead seal was taken, early walkers at Sheringham saw the seal's body washed up intact, so the biter was more likely great Dane than great white. However, there's no reason seals wouldn't be attacked by sharks in the north sea, because some species at least are out there. Here's one I photographed a few years ago, which was landed at Lowestoft. I think it's a porbeagle, and it seems to have enough teeth to do the job.
They say that truth is stranger than fiction...
The other day I posted a series of predictions for 2008. Among them I hazarded a guess that a Great White would pop up somewhere in the St Ives vicinity in August, which coincidentally happens to be Fleet Street's most desperate month.
It seems, though, that there is already a Great White off the Norfolk coast. He (or she) has been chomping on the local seals who, as Mark T - a regular poster to the surf forum at East Coast Surf - says, congregate in their masses at Blakeney.
If you don't believe me read this story from The Sun (which is never wrong). And check out the photographic evidence (by courtesy of Chris Taylor).
Any sightings of Jaws in East Anglia? Is it really the case that "the ruthless killers are prowling our coast", as The Sun puts it?
No word from Baxter about the haul of Viaflo Cluroro Sodico on Sennen beach but check out this page on ShipwrecksUK for more on the mystery...
Time for SAS to Return to Offender?
This afternoon's trip to Sennen Cove yielded a disappointing vista. Tipped off by Andy at Surfers Against Sewage, I arrived at 4.45 and took a stroll along the beach. Andy himself had been contacted yesterday by someone saying that hundreds of 'urine bags' had appeared on the beach. In just a short 30m stretch of sand and rock, I found heaps of medical-looking bags, though (thankfully) I'm not convinced that they contain urine. The bags are made by pharmaceutical giant Baxter and contain a clear fluid of some kind. There is wording but it's in Spanish, so I don't know precisely what they are, but they're called 'Viaflo Cloruro Sodico'.
Mustering what little Latin I remember from school, I imagine that 'Cloruro Sodico' translates as Sodium Chloride. 'Viaflo' is a Baxter trade name, and Sodium Chloride is better known as salt. I believe, in solution, that it's used to clean parts of the body and/or medical equipment.
So what might be on the beach at Sennen Cove are hundreds of bags of sodium chloride (apologies for the poor quality photo; Santa failed to bring me the camera I put on my Christmas wish list. The link here shows better what I'm talking about). They might be safe enough in themselves, and are far less unpleasant than what was first feared, but they're a hideous sight. I picked up a few before light faded and I've emailed Baxter to ask exactly what the bags contain. More soon. As and when we can, let's clean up the beach.
The BA ban on surfboard transportation popped up in one or two papers over the festive period, with little by way of resolution in the offing, but a skater from Leeds (with a double life as a photographer) alerts me to the answer. As Darren Burdell says, I bet these guys would take surfboards. The only issue is where...
ADR of the estimable Surfer's Path drops me a line about surf music supremo Dick Dale. You can read more of The King of the Surf Guitar's battle with cancer on the Surfer's Path blog and you can also contact the man himself at www.dickdale.com to offer messages of support (or maybe even financial assistance - health care ain't free in the US). Meantime here's a reminder of his unique sound.
The dream is over, long live the dream. QPR may have bowed out of this season's FA Cup thanks to a 1-0 defeat yesterday at their West London poor relations (no, not Fulham - Chelsea), but it is only a matter of time before the club resumes its rightful place at the summit of English football.
Our renaissance will not be down to the oodles of cash now available to the club thanks to a trio of very wealthy owner/investors, but to natural law. A similar principle is at work in surfing. After my brief foray, with Mrs W and sans enfants, to The Smoke, I sped westwards with thoughts of a swell solid enough to have led to rumours of The Cribbar coming alive looming large in mind. In short, even a short stint in the city was enough to have me itching to get in the water. Inevitably, despite my best efforts it was written that I would return to Sennen Cove too late in the day for a surf, but not so late that I couldn't look on and see gorgeous waves and only a handful of surfers out. This is The Way of Things. I will always just miss out when it comes to surfing, always make unaccountably The Wrong Decision, forever rue my errors and never quite have all the waves I wish I could have. Maybe the good rides are all the better as a consequence of their relative rarity, but sometimes I wish I was subject to a different natural law.
Natural law also, however, decrees that QPR - English football's sleeping giant - is at last awakening. We always knew we were better than Chelsea but now we know we're richer than them, too. This is excellent news and can mean nothing less than domination of the domestic football scene within five years. Remember - you read it here first.
Now to St Just Amateur Boxing Club to make up for the lack of a surf. And where I'll hope that no one mentions the score in the QPR game yesterday...
So says Gary Slapper, law professor and Times columnist, in this book.
But is it? Does it really apply, out there, in the line up? And if it doesn't, should it?
More on lawyers and surfing soon (don't all groan). This book by Tim Kevan has some interesting material on surfing...
My last couple of surfs at Sennen Cove have been at low tide and have resulted in a wave count of nigh-on infinitesimal proportions, because just about every wave was a totally unappealing close-out. Added to which, my cherished 7'6" has acquired a nasty ding so I've been on my old Kamikaze, a board whose shortness and narrowness is just, well, a little too short and narrow for a man of my age and inability.
Back to the waves. Sennen is not usually like this but the storms have shifted the banks around and at low tide it's not the most reliable of waves just now. Check out this footage - from a while back - for what I mean; the music's a little hectic but you'll get the picture.
Off I go to The Smoke. Swell looks all messed up for a few days so not too distressing. Normal service to be resumed on Saturday.
Meantime, two rogue emails reached me earlier today.
The first suggested that a study should be undertaken, rather like that on Britain's basking sharks shown on TV last night, to find out where longboarders go in the winter. The wintry disappearance of basking sharks was, for many years, a mystery. Then someone tagged them and discovered that they wander a few miles offshore and dive full fathom five just off the continental shelf, in search of nice yummy plankton. The sender of this email - who begged for anonymity - asked if this was what longboarders do, and, rather sacrilegiously, suggested that if it was, could they please stay at the bottom of the sea during the spring and summer, too?
The second email alluded to the existence of SADFUCA, an elite surfers' organisation engaged in a desperate battle to save the world. SADFUCA stands for Surfers Against Darkies, Foreigners, Underdogs and Cornishmen Abroad. Membership is acquired by completing a series of arduous tasks, the first of which will be revealed following top level investigative journalism during my visit to London.
Though I'm not sure that I or anyone else would want to join.
After careful analysis and discussion, and a remarkably abstemious night to see out the old and usher in the new, I'm able to offer this guide to what to expect, bet on and otherwise look out for in the surfing world for 2008.
1. In January, it'll be freezing cold but Harry and I will paddle out, regardless, at various breaks in the far west of Cornwall. Meanwhile the likes of Sam Smart, Sam Bleakley and everyone else round here will jet off for exotic surfing locations around the world. Would we rather be here, surfing temperamental beach breaks in 40F degrees made colder by the wind chill? You bet.
2. February will see the release of Whitewash: A History of Black Surfers by Trespass Productions. Look out for this - it deserves your time.
3. In March, you can bet with reasonable certainty that I'll turn 42. Also that the ASP World Tour will be back on the road, with Mick Fanning looking good with your favourite bookie to retain his title.
4. April should see the long-awaited release by UK surfing legend Roger Mansfield of The Surfing Tribe, his history of British surfing. It'll be published by the people who bring you Carve magazine and has been edited by Sam Bleakley. Should be well worth checking out. Also in April is the third O'Neill Highland Open at Thurso East, Brims Ness and (possibly) other world-class breaks on Scotland's North Shore. This event is a cracker - get there if you can.
5. By May Cornwall will be basking in glorious sunshine and Harry and I will be getting barrelled every day. Well, maybe. But I'll certainly be sticking to one of my New Year Resolutions and getting my younger son Elliot in the water as much as possible. Talking of surfing offspring, I'd put good money on Watergate Bay sponsored rider Harry Timson getting off to a flying start in domestic surf comps roundabout now. The Sennen Surf Cadets will also take to the water - but book your kids in soon (as in, now) if you want them to be part of this well-run and great fun Saturday morning surf session for the summer.
6. By June the basking sharks will be well and truly here but, unknown to everyone, they will be joined by a Great White Shark (see later). Amy Winehouse will go into rehab for the third time this year, Gordon Brown will trail David Cameron so much in opinion polls that he resigns (in a very stern, don't-mess-with-me-because-I'm-very-clever way), and John Prescott's son will take the Labour Party reins (who says this blog isn't au courant?).
7. In July, Kelly Slater will ease ever so slightly ahead of Fanning et al to head the WCT. Meanwhile, closer to home, Sam Smart will find the contest form that he possesses for boxing (his record stands at 15 wins from 16 bouts, many by KO), and start blitzing the homegrown surf contest scene. And Tom Anderson will reveal what's up his sleeve for his second book on surfing.
8. The nation will gasp in August, for a Great White Shark will suddenly appear off St Ives. It does this every year when it gets bored of being mistaken for a boring old basking shark, but the media love the St Ives Great White - known, in some quarters, as the Penbeagle Shark - and sundry hacks will arrive from Fleet Street to bear witness to this remarkable annual phenomenon. Amid the controversy over the Great White, don't forget the Rip Curl Boardmasters, which last year had a superb buzz to complement the top-quality action in the water.
9. The September Book - a beautifully produced and well written account of the blend of surfers and artists shacked up in Ireland for a few weeks - will already have been out for a while by September, but it seems appropriate enough to mention it here. If, by now, you haven't got a copy, find one - I saw it last night and it's excellent.
10. In October great joy will descend upon local surfers in the far west. After a summer of suffering crowds, great whites and Fleet Street's finest, the October half-term will come and go and when it's gone the beaches will be almost empty again. By now, Harry Timson, James Parry and/or Sam Bleakley, Sam Smart, Alan Stokes, Sam Lamiroy, Christian Jackson, Seb Smart and a rejuvenated Robyn Davies will have bagged a number of contest wins, as will my Harry (maybe). Who'll take the honours domestically is, though, your guess, not mine - though look out also for Tassy Swallow, who, rumour has it, is surfing better and better these days.
11. November will not see the 7th dislocation to my right shoulder thanks to carving too hard on the Path 37 by Original Skateboards, because these boards are so amazing, and I love mine so much and treat it so well (even banning Harry's mate Morgan from riding it the other day), that they are injury-free (guaranteed). In this month, too, Slater will not quite amass enough points to take the WCT, Fanning will slip up and Parko will prevail.
12. In December, Duncan Scott - or perhaps Dan 'Mole' Joel, Gabe Davies, Russell Winter or John McCarthy (or any of the other core chargers currently pushing the limits of cold-water big-wave surfing on the fringe of Western Europe) - will ride an ever bigger wave than the 55ft bombs surfed off Mullagmore Head, near Donegal, just a couple of weeks ago. Leading politicians - the two Davids, Cameron and Prescott, now united in a revolutionary coalition government - will look on with amazement and declare surfing the UK's national sport, with everyone involved in surfing - especially people who write, contribute to or comment on The Times surf blog - to be paid a minimum of £7,798.95 per week for their efforts. They will also give knighthoods to everyone in Surfers Against Sewage and adopt each SAS campaign as national policy for the simple reason that they make eminently good sense if we want to enjoy both surfing and our world for the future. Fanciful, but I'll drink to that - good luck to everyone for 2008.
 Alex Wade is a freelance writer who lives and surfs in the far west of Cornwall. Alex's blog will bring
you up-to-date news of our surf scene, what's on and where to surf, as well
as the best of contemporary surfing writing from around Britain. The aim is
to get you stoked and into the water as often as possible, because, as the
old saying goes: "Surfing is life. The rest is details."
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