Winter has taken grip. The banks out the front are average and the constant, biting south-westerly does little to up your enthusiasm. You become a regular at the Royal – the pub across the road – rather than a regular at your local break. You leave for work in the dark and get home in the dark. When you start to have dreams about work you know it’s time to pack your bags once again and head to Indo.
But it’s been Indo each year for the last three years. Time for something new, your partner declares. They persuade you to go to Norway. The Fjords are beautiful and awe-inspiring, but with each pic you share of the Scandinavian wilderness, the comments are the same. ‘Shoulda’ been in G-land.’ ‘Just missed the swell of the season mate.’
Ah, the bind of the modern day surfer. In the age of jet setting, with waves calling from all corners of the globe, often going inland – or someplace where the waves don’t call – just ain’t an option. To have fun, we need surf. But maybe we’re short-changing ourselves. As corny as it sounds, how can we grow as people if we continue to do the same things year in year out?
I recently met a couple of English girls who had been travelling in Mexico where they encountered a group of Australian surfers. After talking surfing with them for some time, they asked one of the guys what else he was into. He gave them a baffled look, and after a moment said, ‘aaaah, whaddya mean???’ The girls took this Aussie catch phrase with them on their travels thereafter. When I met them, surfboard underarm, this was there first thought. I tried to persuade them that there’s more to us than that. We aren’t all one-dimensional surf junkies. Well maybe deep down we are. But surely having a few varied experiences under your belt can’t be a bad thing. When you take a chance and wander from your usual route, it can go both ways. Sometimes it can turn out great, and other times it can suck balls.
I’ve seen both sides of this coin. The magic of the Joshua Tree desert in California is really something else. These otherworldly trees stand like temples in an open plain, their spindly limbs reaching for the heavens. They are ‘praying to God’ according to one rare and colourful character I happened upon in a nearby desert town. And there’s the chaotic and cement-clad capital city of Mongolia – Ulaan Baatar – with its streets uneven and its buildings leaning, which will always own a little piece of my heart.
Then again I’ve had some shitty times too. I spent a few wet and gloomy months on an island off Scotland permanently enveloped in a low-lying fog where the main activity was bird watching, unable to flee for my empty bank account.
No matter what, it’s always going to be challenging going inland, whether you’re in the desert or the mountains or some bustling, electric city. In the age of Instagram and Facebook, you’ll always find out about the waves your missing out on, your mates will make sure of that. But what I’ve found is that there’s also value and beauty and lessons to learn in going where the waves don’t call. At the very least, you won’t end up like old mate aaahwhaddyamean???. Then again, who am I to talk? Just booked a ticket to Indo.