Awanderer's Portfolio - Mickey Smith's Divine Spark

This mutant hellion crossed our path during five mad months of explorative adventure we nicknamed A Blank Canvas. Four friends and I embarked on a mission to find and ride the heaviest Atlantic waves we could throughout Ireland, the Azores, Madeira, and the Canaries. We all learned a lot about ourselves, and our chosen paths in life. This shot pretty much sums up the motivation behind the trip, for me. Despite the rain, wind, isolation and barely rideable heaving lumps, we saw a wave like this and said, “Why not?”

Brendo is without a doubt the most naturally gifted waterman I’ve met. The kid has flow amongst heavy liquid like no one else I’ve seen. The first time I stumbled across Aileens was with Brendo. It was dark, we had no idea how to get out there, but he still dived into the blackness, paddling three k’s through massive swell from the nearest rock hop. It wasn’t meant to be on that occasion, but exactly a year later our chance came, and we ventured down the goat trail for the first time. An awesome wave and an amazing waterman, eyeballing each other before a big day for Irish wave riding commences.

This is an old scan from the vault and one of the first times I’d used Scala, a black and white positive film that I quickly grew to love. I was getting my head around different exposures in the tube and using a variety of films for different conditions, when this lovely gear crossed my path and fast became my favourite workhorse, rain or shine. The more you pushed it the more contrast it had and the better it looked to me. I really miss working with film; thinking everything through intensely and taking my time to consciously shoot 36 frames was so satisfying at times. I wouldn’t want those long swims in and out to change rolls back in a hurry though.

This was also shot during A Blank Canvas, and was taken on Crashy’s 21st birthday up in the mountains of Madeira. We’d been hunting waves in the north of the island when a large weather front moved in, directing us back toward the more sheltered southern coastline. En-route, we ended up lost in fog and rain on the notoriously winding mountain roads. Eventually we broke through in the middle of the island to find this view above the clouds waiting for us. It was one epic birthday gift for Crash, to say the least.

Time spent on the hunt for waves in Australia usually means a lot of time on the road. If you had the cash and were willing to put in ridiculous hours behind the wheel, in theory you could ride world-class waves almost every day. This shot is from the break of dawn on the dirt track to monuments, after a 20-hour drive from Margaret River. Lowey’s zombified stance says it all, to get quality waves in Oz, sometimes you have to subject yourself to some mind-numbing expanses of road en route.

Ferg is one incredible surfer, and a top lad who’s pushed Irish and British surfing so far these past couple of years it’d be easy to forget he’s only 20 years old. This session came about through a stroke of luck and a lot of time spent searching with the bodyboarders over the years. A good friend of mine Damian King was camping in the area and convinced us to drive down overnight to this isolated corner on the Antarctic-facing coast of WA. After a long hike in we arrived to see some of the wildest, heaviest slabs any of us had encountered. Although swimming about the depths was more than a little testing, mentally, Kingy soon whipped both Ferg and Lowey into a couple of bombs, and all of a sudden British tow-surfing would never look the same again.

I love Madeira, and have enjoyed some of my best times on the road out there on the coast and in it’s hills. For me it’s kind of like the Tahiti of the Atlantic, the people are some of the mellowest folk you could ever hope to meet, and the island is absolutely jaw dropping. Though the waves can be fickle, when they’re on you’ll be surfing some of the most powerful rights in the world amongst a welcoming local culture that lives and breathes genuine respect. An awesome, special place.

This image came about on the backburner of one amazing swell in Tahiti. After a mind-bending weekend in Cornwall, I came round on a Monday morning, checked the maps by chance and my hangover melted. Danny Wall and I then made an illogical, bank-breaking call to get there by Wednesday. We ended up buying a bizarre round-the-world ticket to make connecting flights in time, and found ourselves lost in translation throughout New York, Tahiti, Moorea, Tokyo, Amsterdam and Bristol over the next 10 days. I borrowed the money from Wall to make it happen, and I’ll always owe him interest for the mad memories.

Robs is the mellowest, most genuine geezer you could ever hope to have for a mate. He also rides heavy waves as well as anyone you’re likely to meet, and will do it in a super humble laid-back way that leaves you laughing in disbelief. This shot was taken on an outer island slab in the Canaries. Robs and I had spent the whole winter chasing swells around Europe together, and this mission, just before Xmas, was easily one of the most fun. Day after day of trippy, Technicolor, room-sized tubes with only our grins for company, let the good times roll!

The reef at Porthleven played a big part in my life as a kid. It was one of the best things we had going for us and we’d hitch out from Penzance or catch the bus there solely to ride over its rock, whatever the weather. Though Lev’s not really the epitome of perfection that I thought she was back then, she’ll still shine once or twice a year, just for a couple of hours, and throw shapes bright enough to keep the faith burning in lads like Robs who have her number absolutely dialed.

The Box is one of a few special waves around the world where I feel like I learn something new each session. She pretty much taught me the basics when I started out back in the day, and ever since I’ve swum through all sorts of lectures in water movement and positioning out on that crazy corner of reef. Even though heavy wave surfing seems to be about towing the mega slabs nowadays, I still think The Box feels as intimidating to ride as it ever did. The reef gets so unevenly ledgy and cave-filled as it growls and explodes its way down the line, it’s a wonder more people don’t get seriously injured out there. Lowey, as ever, took to her twists and turns from the word go, and this image was the result. A high speed, heavy metal drive from a boxing-trained Cornishman, well and truly up against the ropes.

‘Tom Bombadilo’ is one of the coolest cats you could ever hope to meet. The epitome of an English gent, this guy unassumingly breathes hope back into the assumption that modern Brits are nothing but louts. This WA desert mission was during our first joint oversees adventure, and though the wave might look perfect, the subsequent beating earned Tom a month out of the water. Sterling effort ol’ chap!

Lowey is a passionate Cornish lad, who also happens to be one of the heaviest wave-riders I’ve ever met. Over the last year I don’t think I’ve seen him back down from a single attempt to throw himself over the ledge. In my eyes he’s done some pretty remarkable things in a relatively short space of time, with a low-key, relentless attack on waves of consequence the world over. It’s so good to see a humble local lad getting stuck in, warrior style, and this shot is a perfect example of his growing steez. Middle of December, first light, freezing cold intimidating bombs, and a ridiculous, late mega-charge from deep into fresh ground for the Celts.

This mutant hellion crossed our path during five mad months of explorative adventure we nicknamed A Blank Canvas. Four friends and I embarked on a mission to find and ride the heaviest Atlantic waves we could throughout Ireland, the Azores, Madeira, and the Canaries. We all learned a lot about ourselves, and our chosen paths in life. This shot pretty much sums up the motivation behind the trip, for me. Despite the rain, wind, isolation and barely rideable heaving lumps, we saw a wave like this and said, “Why not?”