MARINE MINERALS LIMITED CARRY OUT UNLAWFUL SAMPLING FOR DREDGING PLANS

We can reveal that Marine Minerals Limited (MML) has unlawfully undertaken the first significant works associated with their dredging proposal. Considering St Ives Bay is one of only 3 sites Marine Minerals Limited is applying to dredge, they are either incompetent or negligent in failing to apply for the necessary permission to carry out their sampling under the Coastal Protection Act 1949.

SAS has serious concerns about the project and how Marine Minerals Limited is operating. Marine Minerals Limited is simultaneously making very limited information available whilst they and their PR agency are promoting unsubstantiated claims. Marine Minerals Limited is yet to announce the method of dredging they will use to remove tens of millions of tonnes of sediment from the North Cornish coast, or how they have arrived at the number of jobs they believe their proposed activity will create. Without this information SAS and other stakeholders cannot identify the level of environmental impact that will be felt at the coast or the true number of established jobs that could be threatened or new employment that might be generated within the county.

St. Ives area’s Godrevy Beach, where mining samples have been taken. Photo by surfhog.com

Marine Minerals Limited has no excuse for not securing the appropriate licences before undertaking the seabed sampling work within St Ives Bay. SAS not only referenced the Coastal Protection Act 1949 but also even named the licencing authority in their response to Marine Minerals Limited’s scoping opinion. The Marine Management Organisation also clearly stated in relation to every license they grant that they “…would further advise you that the issue of this licence does not absolve you from seeking any other consents or approvals which may be required before you embark upon the work to which it refers.” It’s clear that the responsibility to ensure all licences and permissions falls with the applicant, Marine Minerals Limited.

Surfers Against Sewage’s Campaign Director Andy Cummins says: “Carrying out these works without the relevant permissions, as Marine Minerals Limited has, are not the actions of a responsible developer. Showing such blatant disregard for the environment and the licencing authorities demonstrates why SAS is right to have serious concerns about this proposal. The North Cornish coast is too valuable to allow irresponsible and unprofessional operators to carry out potentially devastating works.”

A spokesperson from the North Coast Protection Association said: “North Coast Protection Association (NCPA) are disappointed, but not surprised to learn of this development. Already we are aware of the countless contradictions made by Marine Minerals Ltd (MML) in their public relations and application documents which can only be seen as disingenous at best. We continue to have serious concerns that this company does not act in a professional way and the potential loss of jobs, and damage to the environment are simply too great to allow the project to go ahead”.

Cornwall Seal Group co-ordinator says: “I am sad to say that this description fits with our experience of Marine Minerals Limited. Marine Minerals Limited forced Cornwall Seal Group to work to extremely short deadlines of a few days because Marine Minerals Limited had booked a sampling boat before having obtained their original MMO sampling license.”

SAS are pleased that Cornwall Council is in the process of writing to both the MMO and Marine Minerals Limited setting out that it fully expects to that should Marine Minerals Limited wish to conduct either further sampling runs, or a larger scale extraction of materials from the sea bed, it is to first to get permission from Cornwall Council for this extraction as the licensing authority under the 2002 Order. However, SAS are extremely disappointed that a prosecution is not being sought.

The UK’s coastline and surfing waves need better protection from inappropriate developments like this and pollution. Join SAS in calling for legislation to Protect Our Waves by signing the petition at www.protectourwaves.org.uk

1. There is a difference between being interested in one thing and being interested in one thing more than other things. Let us speak for ourselves: we are interested in surfing, in travel, in good food, in music, in art, in literature, in design, in dogs, in photography, in adventure, in camping, etc., etc., etc. I could go on, but I want you to read the rest.

2. If everyone were selfish and did what made them happy on most days, the world would be a better place. Less killing, less crime, fewer depressed suburbanites.

3. Maybe “dude,” “going off,” “sick,” “stoked,” et al. are on their way to being among the more respected words of the English language. Shakespeare used words like “betwixt” and “forsooth” and no one said a damn thing about it.

4. We point to www.wavesforwater.org as proof of surfers using surfing to make a difference in myriad impactful ways. In one example, “Waves 4 Water has teamed up with surf company Hurley International to develop a DIY volunteer program called Clean Water Couriers, in which surfers searching for waves in third-world countries carry filters with them in their luggage.” This goes for No. 8, too, in which Mr. Anemolius writes, “You are a colonialist.” Viva Jon Rose!

5. The risk of surfing makes it all the more fun. I’d rather die being torn to pieces by a great white doing what I love to do than suffer through old age. If that’s a controversial stance to take, then consider the health benefits of surfing: you get daily exercise, commune with nature, and a steady stream of Vitamin D shining down on you. On surf trips there is fresh fish to eat, rich in omega-3 fatty acids.

6. How is the expenditure of time, fuel, and money scouting surf spots a waste if the yield is an experience we consider absolutely worth it? The allusion to addiction you make is well taken. But as far as addictions go, there are far worse alternatives. And our carbon footprint? Let’s just say that if we weren’t surfers, we’d be eating steak dinners and commuting in the SUVs we could afford to buy because of our 9-5 jobs, amounting, in the end, to a much larger hole in the ozone layer.

7. Dave Rastavich, a professional surfer, fully embodies the ‘close to nature’ vibe you speak of. His nonprofit organization Surfers for Cetaceans rescues whales and dolphins from harassment and killings (which, by the way, are probably not happening because of surfers). His group calls “ocean-minded people” to action. I’m sure many other surfers fall into that category.

8. See No. 4. Kyle Thiermann is another perfect example of a surfer who listens and responds to natives in developing countries. Watch his TED Talk: TEDxSantaCruz: Surfing for Change. There’s also Lee Ann Curren’s documentary, Titan Kids, about how surfing has helped children escape from poverty and drugs in the favela Titanzinho, in Brazil, where they live.

9. Respect on water and respect on land are two completely different things. Don’t assume that all surfers can’t tell the difference. Besides, how much can you drink if you’re waking up at 5a.m. for a surf?

10. Actually, every culture – not just surf culture – has a commercial side that can lean toward the despicable. A surfer has to eat, after all, and just because somebody figured out a way to make that happen doesn’t make the industry the sole source of evil in the universe. Not to mention that some people obviously see surfing well as a marketable skill – in other words, one that not just anybody can pull off.

P.S. We thoroughly loved your article, by the way; we just thought we’d rile up some conversation. It’s kind of like that Abraham Lincoln quote: “We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” Us surfers and our lifestyles may have their fair share of thorns, but we’d have it no other way!

A Bit Chilly Out there, bradda.

By Dr Matt Fox.

Pipeline pose, looking good for the shot but closeouts were the order of the day. (from TSP84)
Photo: Al Mackinnon

 I realise that some readers of The Surfer’s Path are Hawai’ian residents. I know because I’ve  picked up a copy of this fine publication in Hilo on the Big Island. What I say now will no doubt cause them to drop their copies.
I prefer surfing in Britain.
Let me explain. Like the vast majority of the magazine’s readership, I’m an average surfer and I have a job that requires my bodily presence, so therefore I don’t surf as often as I’d like. However, I’m a very lucky man. My job takes to me the Hawai’ian islands two, maybe three times a year, and I get paid for the privilege. My colleagues let me go in their place because they regard it as a chore to spend 18 hours flying to paradise, and they might miss some work at home. I don’t attempt understand their bizarre attitudes, but who am I to argue?
I’ve surfed many breaks on the Big Island but believe it or not, it has either been 25ft or flat on the North Shore of Oahu every time I’ve been there. Neither sets of conditions are conducive to grabbing a board and jumping in. Incidentally, snorkelling at Waimea Bay and Pipeline is fantastic, but you always have to keep your eye on the horizon. Surfing on the Big Island is both frightening and exhilarating. I’ve surfed reef breaks and lava breaks. I have the scars to prove it – though nothing serious, thankfully. Nothing makes you concentrate more on your take-off than the sight of brittle, black, razor-sharp lava staring at you through the crystal clear water.

I’ve been enough times now for the novelty to have worn off, and all things considered, I like British surfing better. The places I’ve surfed in Hawai’i have been universally packed, all year round, with locals and travellers alike. The problem is the diminutive size of the islands. There are too few surf spots for such a surf-hungry population. There are numerous ‘secret’ spots, but you need a truck with gigantic tyres to get to them, and aggressive regulars rule. If you do manage to get a wave at these places the experience is destroyed by the nagging thought that your hire car won’t have a full compliment of tyres and windows upon your return.

Scottish slab – Rick Willmett, or “Aussie Rick” as he’s known by the local boys. He moved from the warmth of Eastern Australia to Scotland … just for the waves. Never mind the cold! This wave is known as Number 10s and though not the reason for the name, it’s a definite ten on the heavy scale. (from TSP89).
Photo: Al Mackinnon

Hawai’i has an endless summer – over there it’s  boardshorts and rash-vests all year round. Anyone can turn up with a pair of shorts, hire a board and leap in, anytime. There’s nothing there to put you off. Also, on these islands, the ocean is never far away. Surfing is close, accessible and pleasant. Easy-peasy.
In Britain, or any other Northern European country, you have to suffer for your sport. Cold water, inconsistency, biting wind, numb hands, ice-cream headaches and the long journeys for a surf check are just the start of it. ‘Don’t bother’ is the message you need to overcome to ride waves here.
However, it is the negatives that make cold-water surfing so rewarding. Only those with true dedication, fitness and patience will bother, and the final experience is exquisite. The crowds are usually small, and the opportunity to find empty breaks is huge. Plus, a steak and chips with a pint of warm beer tastes a thousand times sweeter on a cold evening after a spin cycle in a 9ºC washing machine.

Maybe it’s just my regular haunts making me feel at home, or maybe it’s the pleasure of riding a perfect wave in February when my chin is blue. Maybe it’s about having low expectations and being proved beautifully wrong over and over again.
Hawaii may have the heaviest, hollowest, biggest and most famous breaks in the world but for this average surfer, perfection comes in a 5/4 steamer.

Photos:

Top: Pipeline pose, looking good for the shot but closeouts were the order of the day. (from TSP84)

Bottom: Scottish slab – Rick Willmett, or “Aussie Rick” as he’s known by the local boys. He moved from the warmth of Eastern Australia to Scotland … just for the waves. Never mind the cold! This wave is known as Number 10s and though not the reason for the name, it’s a definite ten on the heavy scale. (from TSP89)

Shifting focus from obsession to awareness is the key to a sustainable future.

Words and Images by Marieka Jacobs

“It’s the papilla, you see. The blind spot. Sometimes I just need to put my surfing obsession left of centre, place it in the papilla, so that it’s ever-present, but doesn’t consume my focus.”

A dear friend explained this idea to me, during one of our routine pow-wows on a surfing holiday in Indonesia. I liked the idea of the papilla, of a place or location that is real, but is devoid of a visual presence. A special place where you can tuck thoughts and feelings away with the knowledge that they won’t be staring you in the face everyday demanding attention and invoking obsession. As my friend said “you gotta keep surfing a little bit to the side”.
His idea got me thinking – what about those things residing in the papilla that perhaps shouldn’t be? Things that are erroneously relegated to this peripheral region? Thoughts and issues that we collectively keep to the side because they take too much effort to bring forward to the front of the mind – perhaps because they affront our personal comfort.
Sustainability and the environment, and it’s relevance to the surf community, is too often one such ‘issue’ that hovers in the papilla and on the edges of our consciousness. Moreover, it seems that, for the surf community, there must be some effort involved in turning a blind eye because daily reminders of just how sick our earth is are as abundant as rain in the Indonesian wet season.
Plastic bottles and other non bio-degradable consumer items floating past us in the lineup, and constant bouts of ear and skin infection caused by pollution are disturbingly routine concerns for the travelling surfer, certainly within Indonesia but all over the world as well. Air pollution, the degradation of coral reefs and marine life, sewerage disposal issues, the burning of plastics – all of these are issues that the travelling surfer contributes to, but sadly leaves the locals to deal with.
This is the advantage of living in a developed nation, of possessing a passport and having a disposable income to indulge our ‘passions’ like surfing – we’re afforded the ability to come, have fun, then leave, without having to consider the outcome of our actions too heavily.
In many ways, surfing destinations such as Indonesia are places of ‘positive contradiction’. They are places where hordes of transient travellers implant themselves upon villages that are, for the most part, focused on the same concerns that have dominated their lives for centuries – making a living from primitive practices (relatively speaking), finding adequate shelter, feeding and caring for their families.

These essential undertakings of life are orbited by the happy energy of travelling surfers, tearing through villages with their boards attached precariously to the side of two-stroke scooters, their excited banter relaying tales of swell size and direction, the perfect A-frame, and spitting barrels. It is, of course, worthy chatter for surfer kin, for this obsessed tribe of searchers who probably planned their Indo adventure months, even years, beforehand; a tribe that negotiates time out from family, friends and work to join the search for their own ‘epic’ experience, both in and out of the water.

And this noisy chatter – this intersection between travelling surfers and the local village people is an overwhelmingly positive experience – an experience underpinned by the unspoken understanding that these ‘stoked’ foreigners support the local economy, and that the Indonesian people willingly provide endless hospitality and that ever-reliable, ever-radiant smile.
However, perhaps this widely acknowledged understanding that the surf community does indeed support the local people through the exchange of currency makes it somewhat easier to push those other, bigger issues – such as the plight of the environment – into our collective blind spot.

But the question begs to be asked: How much longer can the surfing community push such crucial issues to the side? And how much longer will we want to? As is always the case with retrospection, things may seem a little different on the other side of fence, when we realise that our past actions (or as the case may be, inactions) have brought upon us a way of living that is inferior, intolerable, and possibly finite. In a way the words on this page, and the accompanying photographs, are an appeal to surfers to start to really acknowledge those elements, people, places that are directly impacted upon by their – by our – quest for the perfect wave. Those things that are “kept to the side”, placed in the papilla, for no other reason than that they are a little too difficult or overwhelming to face right now.
In a recent interview in Surfing World magazine, Australian surfer and world-acclaimed author Tim Winton, offered an acidic, yet accurate description of the surfing community’s reluctance to take on the “big issues” of environmental protection and sustainability: “It’s as if we are hiding behind some kind of youth cult, leaving stuff like conversation to the grown-ups while we just go back outside and play. I think that response is piss-weak and too common”.

Borrowing from the common vernacular, Winton offers a damn good description of the situation with the words “piss weak”. “Piss weak” doesn’t suggest ‘overwhelming challenge’ or ‘insurmountable problem’. It doesn’t make us think that the issue at hand is akin to the Mount Everest of hiking, or the Mavericks of surfing. “Piss weak”, rather, depicts a combination of laziness, ignorance and indifference, all topped off with a rather large dose of NIMBY (not-in-my-backyard) syndrome. The thing is that this type of indifference just won’t cut it for much longer, regardless of whether you’re a surfer or Joe Bloggs down the street. Time is running out, and soon we won’t be able to ‘fence out’ environmental problems beyond the parameters of our own backyards.
Moreover, many surfers treat surfing destinations such as Indonesia like their own backyard, returning year after year to visit the breaks, people and locations that they have become so fond of. However, you could argue that to build a meaningful relationship with these beloved surfing destinations is to take on a ‘duty of care’ for the people and environment. This doesn’t mean that you have to uproot your life and devote all your time and energy to improving the situation at a local level. The ‘duty of care’ referred to here is more about realising the interconnectedness of the communities and ecosystems that constitute our fragile Earth. It involves waking up to the fact that the behaviours we engage in, whether in the comfort of our home, at our local break, or at some overseas destination, impact on people and places, both near and far. As we begin to realise our personal responsibility in these global issues, and as we begin to shift topics such as environmentalism and humanitarianism from the papilla to the front of the mind, we too can start generating some of our own conversation amongst the youth cult, the grown-ups and the communities we encounter on our way.

Marieka Jacobs has worked as Partnership Manager for Australian based not-for-profit Climate Positive, as well as event managing the launch of Safe Climate Australia, which featured keynote speaker Al Gore. She is passionate about both the environment and people, and enjoys exploring both areas through the crafts of writing and photojournalism. She is soon to commence a waste management strategy in Lombok, Indonesia.

PROTECT OUR WAVES GUARDIAN TODAY

AND YOU’LL RECEIVE THE ICONIC

POW TOMBSTONES ORGANIC T-SHIRT

AND A LIMITED EDITION CAR STICKER,

AS WELL AS ALL THE OTHER GREAT SAS

MEMBERSHIP BENEFITS.

Image by Kirstin Prisk www.kirstinprisk.co.uk

We’re well on the way to securing 100,000 signatures for our POW petition, which we will take to Parliament later this year to encourage debate for stronger legislation to protect UK surf spots from sewage discharges, marine litter and inappropriate development. Your support & donation as a POW Guardian is vital in helping us deliver this groundbreaking campaign.

THE POW GUARDIAN RATE IS £36 ANNUALLY, EQUIVALENT TO JUST £3 A MONTH.

Sign the POW petition at: www.protectourwaves.org.uk
Thank you for your support!

This is My Wave

OK, surfing is a selfish activity, but that’s not going to stop me doing it.
I’m selfish. I wish I wasn’t, but I am. I invest more time and energy in surfing than is helpful for my relationships.
Recently, I tactlessly suggested taking my surfboard to a funeral because I knew there was a good surf spot nearby. Didn’t go down too well.
Surfers are nice people, but in an ideal world they wouldn’t have to share their waves. Maybe occasionally, in the dark days of winter when the sun has called in sick with Seasonal Affective Disorder, there are glimpses of camaraderie. On days like that I’m willing to share a piece of the violently cold sea with a few other shuddering souls, but it’s difficult to be so giving in summer when the swell is less consistent and the sea is caked in tiny black bodies like the windscreen of a car.
So, can it be argued that surfing brings some benefit to others, even if unintentionally? Well, to be honest, I’m struggling. There is something to be said for how some sporting achievements inspire us – for instance, maybe somebody climbs something that hasn’t been climbed before and they stick a flag on the top. Best of luck sticking a flag in a wave. Big-wave surfing possibly falls into the ‘inspirational’ category, but the average surfer’s accomplishments go unrecorded and unwitnessed. I often don’t have any idea how my friend’s session went even after we’ve been surfing the same salty cocktail all afternoon.
Since I was inspired to try the sport in the first place by watching someone ride a nice wave, it could be argued that the act of surfing itself is a positive force. A friend of mine figures that because surfing makes him happy, he’s a nicer person in polite society. And I guess it also keeps the groms off the streets. In any case, these are all secondary, by-products – they aren’t the reason why we surf.

Many surfers I know have a strong work ethic, but it’s got nothing to do with their paid employment. They believe in earning happiness.

Personally, I don’t surf to inspire the human race, which is fortunate because, in surfing terms, I’m a good example why we should be humble. And I don’t do it to chill me out or keep me out of mischief. In fact, surfing has made me moodier now – when there’s no swell, it’s written all over my face and not in a pretty way. I surf simply because I love it.
But, surfers aren’t just hedonists. They are often devoted and in devotion is self-surrender. We put ourselves through pain and indignity. There are long periods of enforced denial. If you don’t live near the sea you may have a long drive. You may also have to get up painfully early to catch the right tide, or miss the crowds. More often than not, the conditions are poor. If you want to surf more than once in a day, at least here in England in the winter, you’ll have to get changed in a freezing car park and put on a shrunken, sticking, gritty, sodden wetsuit. Parts of your body will go numb. The average Hindu holy man who’s decided to find moksha (liberation) by standing on one leg for 12 years probably doesn’t put himself through such self denial and discomfort.
Many surfers I know have a strong work ethic, but it’s got nothing to do with their paid employment. They believe in earning happiness. They’d like to avoid the hard work if they could, but on some level they realise that without it, the rewards would feel less sweet. So they learn self-discipline, patience and, (in my case anyway) a lot of humility. Surfing is fundamentally selfish, yet its unwitnessed, transitory nature, how difficult it is, and the sheer magnitude of the opponent, leave slim pickings for the ego. In fact, any residual ego will likely slide out of your nose onto your forearm at the first inconvenient moment that presents itself after a session anyway, no matter how beautiful the last wave you caught.
But most of the time there’s negligible cost to others, so it’s good-selfish, rather than bad-selfish. If you didn’t feed the dog because you were too busy rushing out for a surf, you might be drifting towards the rocks of bad-selfishness. But all the rest? It’s excusable. We’re only neoprene-coated humans after all.

– This piece and photo by Morgan Maassen appeared in the Agree to Disagree column of TSP81

[This article first appeared in The Surfer's Path in 1999. We thought, with a 928mb low about to turn the North Atlantic into a maelstrom of memorable proportions, this aint a bad time to brush up on our explosive cyclogenesis, and some of the biggest storms in North Atlantic history]

The weather forecast is showing a huge low just west of Ireland. Its about to deepen even further, and swing east over the UK. Its
 isobars are so close they’re almost touching. The centre looks like
a solid black mass. The weather manis warning of impending doom.
 Lives will be endangered, there’ll be heavy financial repercussions,
 insurance claims and a strong chance that many people’s worlds will 
fall disastrously apart.
 Meanwhile, you’re stoked. The storm is out there, and the swell is 
inevitable. It’s like you just won the lottery and all you have to 
do is wait for the money to come in. You start planning with glee -
what board, which spots, which days and times will be best….
To many surfers this is a big part of surfing. If you’ve been doing 
it for a number of years, the biggest, meanest storms that appear on 
the weather chart will end up sticking in your memory. Some of them
 may never have produced rideable surf for you, but nonetheless, 
they’re a source of fascination.
 This article is about some of the deepest lows that have existed in
the North Atlantic, and some of the most disastrous storms that have
 ravaged the UK, from where I write. These storms are well documented 
in the meteorological literature, and they have often been given
 names (like hurricanes), just to add to that air of human-like
 unpredictability.

The Fastnet Storm, August 13th 1979

A flotilla of yachts set sail from Cowes, Isle of
 Wight. They were supposed to race to Fastnet Rock, and then back to
 Plymouth. Of the 303 that set out, only 85 made it. Fifteen lives
 were lost and 136 people had to be rescued by helicopter. This
 well-known disaster, the Fastnet Storm, was caused by winds of over
80mph, whipped up by an unexpected low pressure system which
 developed over Ireland. It wasn’t actually that deep, (about 980mb),
but the fact that all those boats got caught out, makes it a real 
tragedy.
 One interesting thing about the Fastnet Storm is that with all those 
boats stuck right in the middle of a large mid-latitude depression,
 each one carrying a barometer and an anemometer, a very
 comprehensive study of what goes on inside one of these lows was
 able to be made. Also, the reports of some of the surviving crews
 were valuable to meteorologists, like descriptions from the crew of ‘The Gremalkin’, talking of waves “like blocks of flats…”

The stricken boat Gremalkin after a night of 30-60ft seas in the Fastnet Race, January, 1979

The Great Storm of 15-16 October 1987

This was 
the one where Michael Fish, the weatherman got ripped to shreds by
the media for not predicting it the day before. The Sun newspaper 
even called for the resignation of Professor J. T. Houghton,
 Director-General of the Met. Office. Personally I don’t know what
 the fuss was about. I clearly remember the weatherman saying “…it
 will be very breezy in the Channel…”
This storm didn’t produce much in the way of surf because it
 deepened to about 956mb when it was already over the land. However,
 it did cause considerable damage to the heavily populated south of 
England. With gusts of over 115mph, eighteen people lost their 
lives, and an estimated 25 million people (and 15 million trees)
were affected in one way or another.
 There is an endless list of incidents connected with this storm. For 
example, at Porthleven, three people had to be rescued when their 
own rescue helicopter ditched into the sea, and at Harwich a prison 
ship containing 50 inmates broke free from its moorings and drifted 
around for two hours. And minutes before a tree smashed down his 
house, Dr. H. Lawes of Noble Denton Weather Services reports, “…I
 telephoned the forecast office… the synoptic situation sounded
 interesting from an academic point of view, but following another
 loud crash I put the telephone down rather hurriedly”.
Again, the Burns Day Storm of 25 January, 1990 got to its deepest 
after it had settled over Northern England, but it did generate 
enormous swell earlier on, as it deepened just west of Ireland. Most 
recognised breaks north of Southern Portugal were out of control,
 although spots south of there were going off. On the land, it was a
 similar story to the Great Storm of ‘87. Millions of trees got blown
 down, 47 people lost their lives, and hundreds of millions of pounds 
worth of damage was caused.

Brear Storm 1993 was predicted to drop to 909mb but in the end it only reach 914mb. Only.

The Lowest Lows

Sometimes, all the factors to do with the jet stream, the sea
surface temperature, the polar ice, the butterfly flapping its wings
10000 miles away etc., all coincide to produce a depression which 
gets incredibly low. Usually these lows suddenly deepen, as if they
 were always ready to be triggered off. In the world of meteorology, 
if a low deepens more than 24mb in 24 hours it’s called “explosive 
cyclogenesis”.
The two lowest barometric readings recorded in this part of the 
Atlantic have occurred in the eighties and nineties. The first was
 the Atlantic Cyclone of 15 December 1986, which got down to 916mb,
and the other one was the Braer Storm of 10 January 1993. The Braer Storm has been much better documented. It took its name from the
 final destruction of the Braer, a large, loaded oil tanker which had 
become stranded on rocks off the Shetland Islands by another storm a
 week earlier. Dipping to 914mb, it has been acknowledged to be the 
deepest Atlantic mid-latitude depression ever recorded. The experts 
thought it was going to deepen even more. I can remember vividly
 listening to the Shipping Forecast from a crackling old radio whilst 
huddled in the back of a van at Mundaka: “Rapidly deepening Atlantic 
low, expected just west of Bailey, 909mb”, and the wind for Bailey
 was “… Force twelve or more…” which is also quite rare. Needless 
to say we were expecting some surf.

What Sort of Surf do These Storms Bring?

Not necessarily that good. It depends on so many other factors, like 
the fetch length, how long the storm stayed in one place, the
 direction of the fetch, etc. The Braer Storm produced some great
 surf, but not really as big as many had expected. The low didn’t
 persist long enough, despite a very tight, intense centre similar to
(but not the same as) a hurricane.
 On the other hand, the Cyclone of ‘86 probably produced some
 all-time surf throughout the whole Atlantic. I was in Morocco at the 
time, and I remember some local rolling up with a newspaper on a
 rickety old bike; “Hey meester, beeg waves for joo, no feeshing for
us”. Even he could see there was something unusual about today’s 
weather chart. It took six days for that swell to arrive, but when 
it did, it was 10ft and super-clean.
 Anyway, the general consensus is, these storms definitely produce 
big waves, and the more of them there are, the more often we’ll get
 big surf in the Atlantic.

Hmm … Morocco. Not a bad place to be in the next few days. Photo: Ricardo Borghi

So Is the North Atlantic Getting Stormier?

Well, yes, so it seems. And not only that, but the thing that 
affects us directly, namely wave heights, have been shown to
 increase significantly over the last few decades. Measurements from
 wave buoys and weather ships have shown that, in 1960, the maximum 
wave height in the Atlantic was about 12m. There has been a
 systematic increase, and now, in the late nineties, the average
 maximum height is around 18m. Long-term trends in wave heights are
 intimately linked with how stormy the ocean is, so we can safely say 
that the Atlantic has got quite a bit stormier since the early 
’60s. Whether this trend will continue is anybody’s guess. It’s 
probably just the upward side of a much longer-term oscillatory
 pattern (like El Nino, but over many decades). We haven’t got good 
enough meteorological records for that – we don’t really know.
For people like myself, who strive to try and
 predict these types of things, it’s tough, even as our forecast models get better and better. On one hand we have 
to fool ourselves, and those who pay us, that one day we might be able to
 predict everything (otherwise we’d give up altogether). On the other
 hand, we must keep in mind that forecasting is inexact. The fundamental laws of quantum mechanics forbid us from 
making perfect predictions of anything, let alone the weather.
Which 
is a really good thing, because otherwise both surfing and science
 would be forever predictable, and not worth a whistle in the wind.
Tony Butt is author of The Surfer’s Guide to Waves, Coasts and Climates, published by Alison Hodge. If you want a copy, you can get one free right now by joining Surfers Against Sewage, here.

This article first appeared in The Surfer’s Path way back in 1999.

Join SAS and get a free book ‘Surfers Guide to Waves, Coasts & Climates‘ by Tony Butt – just quote TBJAN.

http://www.sas.org.uk/join

The Surfer’s Guide to Waves, Coasts and Climates by Tony Butt, published by Alison Hodge, ISBN 9780906720585, rrp £15.

Terms & conditions: Quote ‘TBJAN’ when ordering. The offer is for new or renewing SAS members joining with one annual payment (online or by telephone) and is for UK residents only. Offer ends midnight 27/01/2013.

Liberté, Fraternité and Car Parks

Surfing France without the flash apartments and bourgeois bars can teach you a lot about life. Question is, do you want to know?

Story By Wil Crisp

If you were to take a stroll along Hossegor’s beachfront on a summer’s evening you could be forgiven for thinking that the surf lifestyle was one of endless overpriced half-litres of lager, consumed in the shiniest of bars by beautiful people wrapped up in the trendiest surf gear. But there’s much more to surfing in France than sashaying between the Rockfood and the Rip Curl Pro in €70 flip flops.

Trawl the free campsites dotted along the French Atlantic coast and you’ll find a very different style of surf tourist, ranging from German techno-freaks playing drug-fuelled five-a-side football in caravan parks, to single-fin toting hippies chilling out in pine forests. This summer I stumbled across a campsite a mere 10km away from Hossegor’s cocktail-sipping surf fashionista, which opened my eyes to the lengths some people will go to when they’re hunting French barrels on a budget.
My friend Matt and I were feeling a bit strapped for cash. He was looking at the prospect of spending his final year of university living out of the back of his van and I was about to move to the city with barely any bank balance, but we decided that couldn’t stop us from having one last end-of-summer French surf binge.
The trip took a slant towards the surreal when we stopped to ask for directions to a free campsite at a small supermarket, only to be told the site we were looking for was the supermarket car park itself.
Netto is a low-cost French supermarket chain, which, it turns out, encourages people to camp outside their shops. Why would any business do this? Was it some kind of trap or just a desperate ploy to boost croissant sales? As we exited the shop we suspiciously eyed the car park and decided to pitch our dome tents on a welcoming patch of tarmac next to a white van with a couple of Frankenstein surfboards in the back.

Gradually we became assimilated into the strange utopian community of the car park. The resident traveller-gypsy-types showed us how to find the best food in the supermarket bins and we … shared everything from herbs and gas stoves to skateboards and ding repair kits.

The van’s owner quickly introduced himself as Sam. Sam was an unusual evangelical Christian in his mid-twenties. He divided his time in the car park between pushing around on his long skateboard, sucking his pipe, muttering bawdy stories or lecherous comments (“Oh why Lord, won’t you give me a hunk of that ass?”), and handing out evangelical pamphlets. And at no point would he stop talking. He was impossible to shut up, forever spilling his soul, confessing and jive talking. He’d also occasionally enter a religious reverie and speak in tongues as well as make outrageous statements, like claiming his 1970s mini-mal with a missing centre fin was the most responsive surfboard ever made; and boasting that he’d eaten the still-beating heart of a giant blackbird he killed with a catapult.
With Sam we would learn that Netto was much more than just an unpleasant-looking, urban campsite.

Gradually we became assimilated into the strange utopian community of the car park. The resident traveller-gypsy-types showed us how to find the best food in the supermarket bins and we pooled our resources with everyone else, who shared everything from herbs and gas stoves to skateboards and ding repair kits.
We’d spend all day with Sam at various nearby beaches and retire to the cool, fine-grained asphalt of the car park at night where we’d circle our vehicles with the Dutch and the gypsies and sit down to a feast of rescued ready-meals, stale cakes and one-day-past-their-sell-by-date yoghurts. We’d talk over the day’s highlights and hold-downs, try to invent new skateboard tricks, discuss the finer points of camper-van conversion, and argue over the likelihood of the gypsies’ dogs overheating and dying inside their trucks.

The longer we lived in the car park the more we learnt just how ‘special’ our Netto companions were. The gypsy-traveller-posse would sometimes disappear for a couple of days before turning up again with increased supplies of cheap red wine, out of date food and feral animals; while the Dutch family would engage in seemingly endless games of some kind of bastard tennis variant; and Sam constantly revealed more bizarre character traits/flaws. Apart from his obsession with waves and women he was fanatical about his budget (two Euros a day, not including petrol money, supplemented by cash made busking with a mandolin he had no idea how to play). This obsession had led to an almost pathological compulsion to cost everything. It wasn’t unusual for him to calculate the price of a single sandwich’s worth of jam when spreading it on a baguette or approach dog owners to ask them how much their pets cost them per week.
The Netto family we had become part of was a many-armed monster. Everyone staying in the car park came from completely different backgrounds, with different qualities and outlooks on life. In fact, all the Netto inhabitants seemed deeply dysfunctional and completely incompatible, but were united through a shared love of cheap living and surfing.

Car park life did have its downsides, like the human shit clogging up the drain under the only tap, which supplied dubious-looking, yellowy water; and the constant paranoia that an absent-minded shopper would run you over as you slept; but the pros far outweighed the cons.
What other campsite has such a smooth, floodlit surface for late night skating? Where else on earth could gypsies in dirty pick-ups live in harmony with weird Dutch families in 40ft motor homes? And surely there’s no other campsite in France, which supplies its residents with tons of free food every day?
Netto showed me that there’s more than one way to skin a surf trip. Sometimes it’s nice to have the cold beers and beachside apartment or the five-star campsite with flumes and a disco. But you know you’re really having fun when you’re arm wrestling a gypsy on a pile of pallets, beating Dutch children in midnight games of skate, or having a drunken ‘who can eat the most risky thing out of the trash’ competition.
Maybe if you choose a classy campsite or chalet your water will be clean and you won’t be resigned to a nightly argument about whether the Bible is better than The Stormrider Guide to Europe, but you also won’t get the companionship of freaks like Sam or the satisfaction of passing out on cool tarmac after a long day of battling French waves.
Screw the Rock Food. Vivre le Netto!

The author Wil Crisp grew up in Guernsey, Channel Islands, UK, where he became well versed in the disciplines of the beach: swimming, surfing, beach games, beach art, and sun bathing. He’s currently doing a radio course in London, which means spending a lot of time skateboarding, photocopying and persuading his friends to take him to Cornwall.