At 3am NOAA's buoy station #62103, moored in the English Channel, was bobbing up and down in rhythm with the waves to the tune of 3.6ft & 9 seconds. At this size it was borderline whether the waves hitting the rock ledges at Kbay would be big enough to surf. Couple that with the tide staying high for most of the morning, and I was well aware the extent of my gamble. The odds were against me.
At least the winds were supposed to be favourable, and the weather balmy.
What greeted me when I crested the Purbeck Hills that guard this Jurassic coastline was fog and mist blocking out the sun, howling north winds blowing cold and cross-offshore and a generous 2ft of barely ridable surf that was backing off until it hit the inside reef and then dragged it's way across the shallow rocks.
Two SUPers and a kayak were out on 'The Ledges', and a couple of black blobs were bobbing in the distance over on 'The Bench'. No surfers. Any who had turned up to check the waves in the two hours since daybreak had either taken the best of it or deemed it un-surfable. I lay my back flat to the crumbling cliff face seeking shelter from the biting north winds and watched a few sets roll in. Three bombs unloaded unridden on The Bench. The red military flags were signalling they were about to unload some bombs of their own so there wasn't enough time to get over there before firing commenced and access was restricted.
Having already burned nearly £20 of diesel there wasn't really a decision to make about getting in or not. My decision was whether I was getting in now, before the tide got even higher and the swell got even smaller. Or wait for the tide to drop out, the wind to die and the sun to come out, risking the swell disappearing altogether.
I couldn't risk that so I ran back to the car trying to convince myself that the waves weren't so bad, that that left actually looked quite fun when a good one hit it and that I couldn't let a couple of SUPers and a kayaker take all the waves. I had to get out there and represent.
In the boot of my car I had my newly broken in 6'3" balsa shortboard, the love of my life 6'5" 70's singlefin, and my 7' ducktape dumpster rescue minimal. From the three the one I least wanted to surf was the 7 footer.
Considering the small conditions, I felt like I was bring a knife to a gun fight as I pulled the minimal out.
Due to my recent love affair with my singlefin, I dispensed with the two side fins on the minimal and inserted just a single GR centre fin into the FSC tabs. It would prove to be the making of the session and maybe a turning point in my romance with singlefins.
With the piercing wind in force and the sun still in bed I opted for the warmth of my 5mm thick winter suit over the paddling advantage of my thinner but colder 4mm suit. I hadn't brought boots and gloves, as despite not having surfed the UK for a couple of months, I was sure the water had warmed sufficiently. I found out pretty quick this wasn't the case. The cold water stabbed at my toes and fingers as I paddled out and the sharp spray from the wind on the sea soon washed away any lingering notion that this would be one of those fun small summer swells that last long in the memory. The kind that feeds the gluttonous surf monster that resides within, hopefully with enough stoke to see it through the inevitable flat spell.
Having watched a few sets roll through I was well aware of how close to shore I needed to sit and wait for waves; how the bigger ones failed to break until very close in, and; how I was at a massive disadvantage to my fellow wave-riders on their paddle assisted crafts. To my surprise I was gifted a wave almost instantaneously. The wave was small and the take off quick and it was on my backhand. I opted to pop up to my knees rather than risk blowing the wave. To my surprise the wave walled up and ran nicely along the reef for a 100 or so yards. Already the session was 100 times better than what I was expecting.
For the next hour or so I stayed on that left waiting for the ones that looked like they offered a long ride. Depending on how easily I could get into the wave and set my line I varied between kneeling, laying prone and occasionally standing up. Sometimes doing all three on one wave. The singlefin was slipping out on take off which only added to the fun, especially on the waves which I stayed prone on. On the ones I stood up on I didn't find myself getting hung up in the lip like I normally do on my backhand top turns. I was having a right giggle. Without noticing it, the wind had dropped off and the sun was threatening to shine.
A few people could be seen in the car park checking the waves out. And slowly a few more souls took to the water. The SUPer and kayaker got out. A few kids on foamies drifted through the line up. The left started closing out and then a few rights starting coming through. There were enough waves for all and the sun was spreading warmth and good vibes through the line up. It didn't quite turn into the epic summer session I had hoped for, but as always the surf had worked it's magic, and the surf monster had filled up on stoke and could now sleep well for a week or two.
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Here's a few phone pics of what turned out to be a cracking fun session. One of my best worst surfs ever. Don't be fooled by how bad it looks, it was probably worse!
U don't work u little hobo
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