The storms and seas let up a bit today so we all jumped in the vans and headed down to Porthleven. The wind was meant to be spot on for a cross-off kiting session and the sun was even supposed to turn up at some point.
On arrival, the wind was there, the swell was there, but unfortunately the sand on the beach was not, meaning we only had a narrow patch between the rocks to launch and land from, and due to the offshore trend of the wind that meant our chances of making a safe landfall at the end of the session were too slim. So, the executive decision was made to propel ourselves into the waves using more conventional methods, for if you have to take a risk you might as well restrict it to the actual act of riding waves and not the bits before and after.
One by one, we threw our surfboards off of the harbour wall into the choppy murk below. Then we crawled down the rusty rungs before reuniting with our sticks and making the deceptively long paddle out to the waves. Not long after we got out there, a hail squall blasted us and up on the harbour wall I could see the photographer / girlfriends wisely scurrying for cover. The squall passed, the sun came out for a bit, the girlfriends reappeared on the harbour wall and the wind went perfectly cross shore at a steady 25knots. Ideal 7m weather. Bah.
Well, we snagged a few waves between us, and burned enough fuel to warrant a large steak pasty on the way home. Despite the incessant wind and sea, this has not been a classic winter. There’s too much of everything and you really have to pick your days, and even then, it can still turn out sour. Out of everyone, Reb seems to be making the best of it, running free on the empty beaches whilst her master bobs about in the sea.
The drop in pace this season suits me quite well though. I’ve been at it quite hard for a while now, sometimes it’s good to have a recovery period and let everything build up to come back stronger.