drift, perspectives in surfing

I haven’t written this blog for weeks now, caught up in a variety of projects, articles, plots and schemes, whilst also becoming snagged on the snaggle-toothed edge of a writer’s block. I just couldn’t get motivated to sit down and write, and I’ve got plenty to be getting on with – an article for the Sunday Telegraph, a piece for a surf mag, some business plans… So what happened? What dragged me from the mire? What hauled me from my stupour? What prised me from my lethargy? Waves. Pure and simple, the waves returned.

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Life here in our jungle-fringed pink house between Varkala town and Varkala beach drifts gently by and feels more like home as each day passes. Our location between real India (town) and tourist India (beach) affords us the best of both worlds.

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Like the other great economists before me – John Maynard Keynes and his theory of macroeconomics (1883–1946) or Jean-Baptiste Say (1767–1832) bastion of the free trade principal – I’ve developed the current era’s defining economic principal.

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Hippies are alive and well and living in Gokarna.

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Our final fortnight in Portugal was a blur of surf, fishing, barbeques, bonfires, good company and good bottles of wine, all crowned by three days of modest drives through Spain via the medieval university town of Salamanca to stormy Bilbao to await passage home aboard ‘The Pride of Bilbao’.

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I had the best surf of the trip so far this morning; in fact, I’m at a stage on my surfing path where I’m able to say I had the best surf of my life this morning!

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We should have seen the individual events as omens, portents of the approaching storm, nature’s way of warning there’s trouble ahead. First a flip lost its flop, rendering it useless except as a fly swat, whilst in the background Neil’s fridge was petering out.

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Over a week and probably 1,000 miles have passed since my last rambling, time which has seen Spain, my first published piece in the Guardian and my birthday come and go. After Zarautz we swung by San Sebastian to find it was (pretty much) closed for winter; then we hoofed it across the top of Spain, speeding by Mundaka, Rodiles and other world-class waves as the drizzle descended, taking the swell with it.

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Turquoise turned to jade green which merged with a deeper grey-blue sliding into seafoam green fragmenting into golden yellow, duck-egg blue and a cool fathomless green…

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It’s a momentous day today: we threw caution to the wind and had our first non-van dining experience and ordered Steak Frites in Eauze town square as we broke the journey toward Oleron in the western Pyrenees.

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