Basque crash landing
How the hell did I get here? A 12-year career in journalism was all I had to go by when I crash-landed in Zarautz in the beautiful Basque Country to manage a surf camp for Stoke Travel.
I was used to expecting the unexpected and just as well, really.
One month in, it’s been a rollercoaster ride and I’m having a blast. I hope the guests are too…
Cooking for 40 people has been mastered (by a trainee doctor from Holland), budgets and accounts (my domain) have been nailed and our surf school (headed by a Kiwi sex pest and a British Mormon) is now a finely oiled machine.
Communication with our Italian bus driver (check out our vehicle graffiti-ed with porn-reading, beer-swigging marine life) has been achieved.
We use Spang-lish. It works.
New help arrived this week in the form of Ana from Guatemala (I found her in a shop) and a sunburnt Aussie called Matt, who just turned up one night.
Flat tyres, missing fins, non-existent swell, our bus getting shot (!), wine fights and gluten intolerance have failed to sway us. We are rolling and the guests are rolling in. Happy days.
Zaruatz, around 20 km west of San Sebastian, is a beautiful, traditional town, graced by one of the best surfing beaches in the Basque Country.
The campsite’s on a hillside overlooking the bay, so it’s just a short stagger from our tents to check the swell.
This year, we’re sharing the beach with surf camps from Slovenia, two from Belgium (one of which “likes to party”, apparently), Holland and France. It’s a truly international vibe.
The guests so far have been an electic and entertaining bunch.
My personal favourite was the guy who once injured his ankle playing American football with his horses.
The same dude also managed to cut his head open on a tree and get savaged by jellyfish while he was here. But he went home a happy man. Honest.
Where do we go from here?
Only time will tell. The rollercoaster ride has only just started, and I think it’s only going to get even more weird and surreal…
www.stoketravel.com
