I was asked to do a guest lecture on GoPro cameras by a friend of mine who is one of the course technicians.  He bought a couple of Gopros for the students to use, but it is required that they know what they are doing with them first before they are set loose. So I went down to the classroom at Tolcarne Beach and lectured for a bit, and then got the students to suit up and hit the water to generate some shots of their own so they could put into practise what they’d just learned.

There was no surf, it was overcast and quite windy. I put the responsibility into the hands of the students to think of some interesting shots we could get. After filming backflips, sprinting through shallows and body surfing, we went on to try filming underwater.

Here is the footage of that swim; part way through one of the students pops his shoulder out of the socket. In a normal classroom situation this would be quite alarming but he handled it very well, I guess he was a pretty tough character, and it’s not the first time it happened. I won’t dwell on the dislocati0n, so will finish off by saying that delivering the lecture was very rewarding and I hope to go back next year and run a lecture on cross over sports associated with surfing.

Making use of some downtime on the channel tunnel train

Craig Smith from Cornwall came along, and we stuffed my car with kites, boards, flags, and also a large 6×3 meter tent which we had to pick up from somewhere in West Sussex. Once the tent and its poles were in, Craig and I could no longer see each other since we had to pile stuff up between the front seats from the centre console to the car ceiling. It was so compact and cramped, it reminded me of old pictures of astronauts in space shuttles. Like this, we would cover around 1,500 miles through Europe.

Glimpses of hell

On the way we stopped over in a town called Duisburg in Germany. The town itself is normal enough but the way we came in took us past some grim looking concrete structures covered in graffiti tags, and then the road ran alongside the biggest steel works I have ever seen. Honestly it was like Port Talbot on steroids; flames roaring into the night sky, belching smoke, huge pipes and towers dominating the skyline. After being rattled senseless in the car for 12 hours and fighting sleep, it was hardly the welcoming sight we might have hoped for.

Craig during the Sunday morning Baltic session

I had to laugh, because neither Craig or I never said specifically what it was that we didn’t like about this picture of hell, but we both agreed it was quite harrowing and we did kind of hope that the hotel would be shut so we could get back on the autobahn and find a Premiere Inn or somewhere else a little more normal.

A close up of JT-Pro Wake 142

Our hotel door was shut but our knocking was swiftly answered by a German fellow who spoke no English. We had a comfortable room each and when we asked for a couple of beers, he explained we could pay in the morning. The next day we checked out and the guy on the reception told us not to worry about the beers, just give them a thumbs up review on Booking.com. Consider it done, Hotel Al Kamim! This hotel was something of an oasis of warmth and humanity in the shadow of the dystopian-nightmare looking steelworks.

Flying the flag

Back on the road, we shuddered to a halt in heavy traffic around Hamburg, the outskirts of which made even Duisburg seem like a quaint backwater. We were literally staggered by the monstrous concrete constructions vaulting into the sky, the ugly cement walls running between traffic lanes and ugly looking industry everywhere. Probably it wasn’t that bad but I think the effects of being cramped in the car were taking their toll.

The Baltic has wave(let)s!

Eventually the road cleared, the industry faded away and trees and green fields started fill our view. The resort of Damp was pleasingly clean and the beach had soft white sand, and the Baltic Sea was clear and blue. We were doing all this driving for just a day and a half as work commitments meant we couldn’t linger for the full three days of the competition, and inevitably the forecast said it would be windless and raining whilst we were there, turning sunny and windy once we left.

Razors and Cyphers ready to roll

A higher force must have felt that we deserved better than that after all our efforts, and on Saturday, the wind built and the sun shone and Craig and I got to shake the dust off with a fun 9m session. The Baltic lived up to its reputation and was refreshingly cold, I didn’t mind at all since I was snug in the Soul drysuit. Back on the beach, our tent was up, the flags were flying and a solid quiver of Cypher and Razor kites were pumped up and ready for demo.

If you want to think like a local...

That evening, we shook a bit more dust off at the evening bash, mingling with the German kiters and getting stuck into the discounted Cuba Libre cocktails. This didn’t stop us from seizing another chance to ride the next morning in blazing sunshine under the 12m kites. With the tent packed away the night before, Craig and I folded ourselves back into the wagon and prepared for the seventeen hour drive home.

Looking towards the competitors area

Coming along the south of England at 2am, a storm had not long hit. Huge branches lay in the road and the rain was sheeting down. Apart from that, England seemed like a garden compared with the flat, empty plains of the continent, and I’m surprised to find myself remark that our roads are actually a lot better too; we don’t always have it as rough as we think. Flopping into my own bed at 4am felt as good as I hoped it would, even if the next morning when I woke I could swear I was still vibrating from being in the car that long.

The Crew! L-R: Me, Craig, Fabian, Claus, Norbert

In August, we return to Germany for the finals of the Kitesurf Trophy. The event is on an island in the Baltic Sea, but we plan to share driving, take a few more days and stretch our legs a bit more. The Germans are a really hospitable bunch and you are soon made to feel very welcome, if not a little bit special, such as when we checked in to our hotel in Damp. The blonde receptionist told us we had ‘really cool names’. Personally I think Dom Moore and Craig Smith are fairly ordinary but neither of us were about to shatter her illusions. Auf wiedersehn!

Highway 168, Virginia. First stop after 14hrs travelling

Many of the houses are built from wood and perched on stilts for this reason for a hurricane can easily sweep sheets of sea water right across the banks and into the Pamlico Sound on the other side. In places the sandbar is so narrow that you can walk from the waves on the Atlantic Ocean side to the flat water of the Sound with kitesurfing gear on your back in about ten minutes, and that’s one of the reasons Ocean Rodeo hold an annual North American dealer meeting out there.

Grant Clayton launches off the flats of the Pamlico Sound

With dead straight east facing coast and a dead straight west facing coast you have 360 degree wind exposure, add to that the Sound is knee-waist deep for about 400 yards offshore and you have a perfect training ground. The potential for downwinders either in ocean waves or through the mangroves in the Sound is huge; we ran a 5 mile course in a sunny SE blow, dodging derelict piers, snakes and each other for 90 minutes of full on blasting. It’s quite an adventure to ride into a channel in the mangroves wondering if you will ride out the other side or just run into a dead end.

Waves Village. Best kite resort I've ever been to.

Our base was right on the edge of the Sound in Waves Village kite resort. Ocean Rodeo booked the entire complex out. Every apartment has a balcony, and every balcony has a hot tub in which you sit, easing your shredded muscles, supping a beer and watching the sun slip into the Sound. The apartments themselves have got everything you need to keep six unrepentant kitesurfers happy for a week of more: mp3 docking station with a pumping sound system, huge TVs, fully specced kitchen, air conditioning, three bathrooms…

A quiet night in apartment 32

Because you are located so close to the action, you are ready to seize and chance of riding you get (the two air compressors speed up the rigging process). Despite a wonky forecast for our week, we rode all but one day since we could pounce on any kiteable spike in the wind. You could see the progression made by many of the riders that week, be it nailing gybes on a surfboard or old-school hanging around or sticking S-Bend air passes.

Craig sustains a foot-out (or as some might call it, a Madonna) Sound side.

The Outer Banks in April is a hospitable place to be, both from the welcoming locals and visitors to the warm but not overly fierce sun and general lack of things to worry about. Evenings are warm, it’s fairly dry (unless a storm blows in) and everything you need can be found within a short drive. As you would expect in the States, tasty food is in abundance so make sure you ride hard everyday to burn the calories off.

On the balcony at sunset

Some of our crew were out there for the first time, in fact it was their first time in the States and I can’t think of a better place for an  introduction to the country. There’s all the Americana you see on TV – diners, big trucks, wide open highways, basketball hoops in every yard – and the culture of the south is very different from anything in Europe, but of course British people can understand what’s going on. The reverse is not always true though.

On the beach near the Cape

When we landed at Norfolk International Airport in Virginia, we went straight to Burger King while we waited for some other friends’ flights to arrive. The girls behind the counter could not stop giggling away at our accents, trying to mimic them by repeating what we had said. It’s not often that British people feel like a novelty and we quite enjoyed it.

Hi-five over the ski with Craig-o and Benno.

The crew will be back on the Outer Banks next year, and I’ve a feeling that Grant, Benno, Craigo and myself will be leading a fairly substantial British Invasion out there. It really was a superb trip, great to meet all the Canadian crew and learn that despite their towering height, love for huge breakfasts, addiction to ice hockey and questionable conduct in drinking games we all share a great fondness for ripping it up on the water by day and ripping into one another (all done with affection!) by evening. Cheerio!

It’s all quite different to knocking out a video from a two week holiday in the trade winds, and let it be noticed that the riding here is in four different locations around Cornwall too.

Yes we could have scored bigger waves, or even a session at our little reef break (the feckin’ place refused to play ball, despite repeat visits!) to really set it off, but I’m really proud of what we’ve got here. Of all the British kitesurf waveriding flicks posted online in the last, well, let’s say since time began, it’s easily the best because it is the only one. THE ONLY ONE! I’m not counting the GoPro edits or throw-away handicam footage (of which I have turned out plenty) but proper HD, shot from a tripod, by a guy who knows what he’s doing. A guy like Kristian.

Kristian had to suffer endless journeys trapped in the passenger seat of my car, chasing wind and swell, racing a watery January sun sinking lower in the sky, whilst Reb (the furry faced rascal who makes cameo appearances) sought to clean Kristian’s ears and gnaw his hands and breath fish breath over the pair of us. Kristian also had to endure my constant requests for tweaks, re-edits, splices, overlays and actually I have no idea what the last two are but you get the idea.

In The Dog House has been on-line for 24 hours now and notched up 1,200 views. That’s pretty good considering the most famous character in the video is probably the dog. Hopefully people are tuning in because amongst all the tropical stuff it’s nice to watch some action on your own turf for once, providing it’s well shot of course and Kristo did a fine job of that.

If you haven’t already, have a look at the vid and we’ll look out for the hit counter nudging up by one more!

Aloe Vera for your close encounters of the reef kind

Truth is, plenty do dare to tread around in this place, mostly from the airport to the accommodation and the track beaten by the surf guides. And good for them (readers of this blog you will know I would never dare to condescend to suggest anyone choosing a different path to me is a lightweight, indeed, my travels are lightweight compared to many!), for when I came to this place nine years ago, Smiler, Will Bennet and I were fitted up for a drugs bust, roadblocked, had rabid dogs die in our apartment in the night, harassed, cajouled, embroiled in arguments about the second Iraq Invasion, and finally went on the run to fall into the clutches of an absinthe drinking fisherman / philosopher. Actually he was a good Muslim.

Jacko loads the sticks onto the caddy

This time around at this not unfrequented surf region, things were more relaxed. I met a university surf club from the North East of England shepherding fifty members around the place  (not my idea of responsible or sustainable surf tourism but between them they caught less waves per sesh than the usual lone wolf travelling surfer), middle aged women on yoga / surf retreat packages, scores of beginner / intermediate surfers looking to sharpen their pop-up on some friendly beachies,  the usual stormtrooper-serious-surfers from all over Europe, and of course the odd stressed out local who amongst all this just wanted to get some waves on the weekend!

Yep, this is reasonable and respectful dress for a tourist these days

The main town was more relaxed than before, the air of desperation and thievery blown away with a new understanding from the locals that if you treat someone pretty well on the first day of the trip, you’re likely to make a buck a day from them. And considering that such a local will be spending the day standing in a dusty patch of wasteland by the sea, with no shade, guarding your car from glue-sniffers for as long as you wish to surf, well I for one couldn’t wait to pay up.

One of our crew was a doctor. Here he is.

The impression I got was that now we were able to see the locals as they were, before the ‘gold rush’ of visiting surfers from the north. In the early days I guess there were easy pickings to be made from bag snatches, rip offs, extortion, stitch ups and police bribes. Today, The King has decreed that the police must show clemency to tourists by not flagging them down at road blocks, because tourists bring money and The King knows this and doesn’t want to piss them off. Happily, The King is a right-on guy and a good leader, and this attitude has percolated down into the street.

These guys couldn't care less if you walked by in a gold sequinned bikini. Well maybe they would if you were wearing it Mark Jackson.

How did we manage to get off the beaten track and find the Black Hawk Down vibe then? It wasn’t hard, a town about forty minutes drive north of the main surf spots was exactly the same as it was a decade before. The place was bustling with men in robes (the odd woman, not many though), goats tied down to mini-van roofs, wailing mosques and buzzy two-stroke motorbikes. It’s here that the trade winds start, and they were wafting the smell of sizzling tajines, stewed goat and slow cooked chick-pea stews right up our noses. We sat down at an eatery that I remembered from nine years ago. Like before, we were welcomed by the owner and settled down in our board shorts, fake Ray-Bans and t-shirts next to men in Jaleb clothing. They were surely more less interested in us than we were them, or maybe just more dignified in the company of strangers?

We went surfing!

The surf was as I remembered it – really good, but after four days at the same spot a weird fatigue set in and you would find yourself turning down clean 3ft surf in the interest of going back to base and reading a book. Bizarre I know, that doesn’t even happen at home. Perfect as the wave is, you surf it once, you’ve surfed it a hundred times. It doesn’t really change. It’s also not the sort of wave that allows for explosive moves so you run out of stuff to do since it doesn’t offer that much of a barrel section. Soon enough, the racking winds, desert dust, and whole lot of f*** all in the surrounding environment starts to get to you and you find yourself craving a sunlounger, Fanta and a wi-fi connection.

Liquid chambers

It’s 1am, I’ve had one too many single malts (and so may you, though we both may wonder if it’s even possible to have ‘too many’) and I need to wrap this up. The point is, this North African country is an interesting study in tourism. It’s the one place I’ve visited out of about thirty in the last decade that has improved its relationship with its tourists without changing the wild, country look of the town (not that they’ve had any money to). It seems that the locals have driven out the bad seeds – even the sunglass sellers are pretty low impact – and instead of being harassed as you walk down the street you can now stop and chat to people. It’s relaxed a lot.

It's not entirely without its smackdowns though

One thing still worries me though, and that’s the treatment of dogs. One morning, a stray dog (one of many endearing little mutts) was trying to hide under our breakfast table by the harbour. He would have been left alone but for the fact he couldn’t stop yelping. I looked under the table and saw he was bearing his teeth. Thinking this could be rabies, I drove him out with a few splashes of water, what else were we going to do? It’s not like there was a vet’s on the corner. Anyway, the dog returned, and tried to hide under another table. Same thing – yelps, teeth bared, worried guests. Turns out the rumour was that to control the spread of wild dogs, arsenic pellets are sprinkled on the beach. This dog had supposedly eaten one and knew his number was up, trying to find a safe place to lie down amongst the pink skins where he thought (pitifully) he might sleep it off.

My friend, we have screaming fast GSM for all your textings

Cat lovers shouldn’t fret though, for once upon a thyme Mohammed found a cat sleeping on his tunic and rather than wake it, cut the sleeve off of it so he could wear the rest of it. Ever since that was written, the cat has enjoyed a charmed existence of being fed treats from the plate because ‘he only comes to you when he is hungry’. Amazing – because cats would never presume to defraud people of their cooked food. The whole story is charming but reminds me of the joke of waking up next to a minger sleeping on your arm. You chew your arm off rather than wake them. This story could be told by men or women, it’s not sexist I have to point out.

An interesting thing happened to me the other day. We’ve got a new drysuit at Ocean Rodeo, it’s called the Soul. Unlike a regular drysuit which is baggy and makes you look like a Ghostbuster, the Soul is designed to look and feel like you’re wearing tailored snowboarding jacket and trousers. It’s made from breathable Gelanots and you just wear some thermals underneath. It takes about 30 seconds to get into it, or to take it off, and even has convenient fly zippers for when nature calls!

Dropping into a windy one at Fistral

Anyway, I got sent the only existing prototype from the guys in Canada so that I could obtain some GoPro footage and photos for promotional purposes. This was a very exciting task for me to be charged with, being as I love kitesurfing and GoPros so much. With the forecast showing only one day potentially yielding the holy trinity of surf, sun and wind, I had plenty of time to get all my gear ready.

Arriving at Watergate Bay car park, I was met with a huge blue expanse flecked with white caps and a delicious swell just ripe for the shredding. My friends Josh and Carl Coombes were gearing up for a session and I was thanking my luck that such a day was unfolding; I would be able to score some perfect footage!

On the sand I pumped up my 6m Razor, grabbed the surfboard and went to mount the GoPro into the lines for some aerial shots. I say went to, because the GoPro wasn’t in my drysuit pocket. Maybe it’s in the kite bag? Nope. OK, the 9m kite bag? Not there either. Ah, well what if I retrace my steps back to the car? Did that five times, so did Josh, and Carl, no camera. Panicking a little now, I drove home and scoured the house. Still no sign of the camera.

In resignation, I floated a post out onto Facebook asking people to keep an eye out for a lost GoPro camera at Watergate Bay. Within minutes, my phone was ringing. Watergate Bay Hotel were on the end of the line explaining that local kiter Andrew Keast had picked the camera up in the car park, took it home assuming it was his, then upon realising he now had a spare, took it to Newquay Police Station and called The Hotel to let them know. Fortunately, The Hotel staff were logged into Facecbook at that moment!

A couple of hours had passed since I was supposed to be on the water and Watergate Bay was now too full with the spring tide. Fistral it would have to be, and a rampy, bumpy seascape surging over the rocks at each end of the beach left little margin for error. One good thing was that the sun was now lower in the sky, giving some spectacular lighting.

I recorded about 20 minutes of footage, with some perfectly usable clips and grabbed a few photos too. The lesson today was one of more haste less speed; things related to the sea really have a way of teaching you to slow down as you approach the waves, for they have a way of smacking you back into place when you rush in. And thanks again to Andrew Keast for handing in my GoPro.

Laid back with the Soul suit

Rationality got the better  of  me though and after Googling ‘Newquay Computer Repairs’ I got in contact with Oli Coles at PC Fix. The PC and laptop were hauled in. New keyboard and a service for the laptop, and seeing as the PC is pretty much the tree from which life is sustained in my little work environment, I went for some upgrades. Oli fitted an upgraded graphics card, 8gb RAM, the latest Windows 7 and while we’re at it, how about some kick-ass editing software too please?

Two days later and the screaming fast beast of a machine is smashing out all sorts of complex tasks while sitting quietly under my desk. I’m especially excited about this because this year I had decided to invest in myself a little bit by acquiring some solid new skills that would serve me well in recreation and work. I’m kicking the campaign off with a month studying all I can about the Adobe Master Suite software, and I hope then to be able to knock out some stunning images and quality video edits. Having the fast computer is critical in making this process enjoyable and not a chore. I’ll post some photos up in a month to show what I’ve learned.

I don’t recommend services to people that often but this weekend I’ve spoken to a few people about my awesome computer upgrade and they all asked for Oli’s details. I know that a lot of people reading this blog live in Newquay, and all of you have a computer, so I think at some point you will appreciate a good computer repair / upgrade guy – here’s his webby again: PC Fix.

All the best and quietly spinning processor fans and brain-nourishing bedtime reading to you all!

Oh look, there's one for both of us.

You know how when it gets to late October or even mid November and the sun’s out and enough people milling about to give the day a bit of a vibe but not so many that it feels crowded and busy? You turn to your friend and say, ‘If only this was what it was like in the middle of winter, it would be the best place in the world’.

This photo was taken on the 11th February at Fistral Beach this year. Look at the deep blue sea, the dunes lit up in the sun and the perfect, nigh-on empty surf just waiting for you. I won’t lie and say it was a warm wind blowing that day, but out of the wind and in the sun it was t-shirt weather all day long if you had a manual job to do.

I’ve just heard from my very good friend Rob Small over in Lanzarote that the island has suffered a pretty much surfless winter, and only now emerged from three weeks of overcast drudgery. I’ve also heard from another friend on the Gold Coast of Australia and she looks like she’s having the trip of a lifetime with new friends on those tropical beaches under the blazing Aussie sun. She did post a Facebook updated though lamenting how the surf there was weak and blown out while at home in Cornwall it was firing (it pumped for two weeks straight).

I would love to click my fingers and arrive on the other side of the world, but the newly acquired dog, bank balance and sense of responsibility (in that order) mean I’ll be ‘toughing it out’ here for a little while yet.

Keep the airways to your processor clear

What do you think of this photo?

It shows the CPU of a cigarette smoker’s computer. All that gip you see is tar, clogging up the cooling fins and deflecting airflow away from the processor, causing the computer to have to work harder to do the same tasks it used to take in its stride.

Not really fair on the computer is it? It’s a floor standing machine and were it not for some open cowl surgery its life would unnecessarily cut short.

I got these photos from the brilliant chap that’s fixing my PC (fried graphics card and sand clear out in my case ) after he showed me these tarred up fans from another customer’s machine. The repair guy barely wanted to touch the things.

It’s fair enough if people want to smoke but they really should think about the innocent machines around them. Just imagine the microphone on their poor phone.

Backlit at the Lizard

Here’s a shot taken by Mike Newman* on a typical day for us on the South Coast.

Winds and weather systems arrive to Cornwall from four main sources. Imagine looking at a map of Great Britain with the Atlantic on one side and Europe on the other. From the top right comes polar continental weather, usually cold and dry. From the lower right comes tropical continental, this is often warm and dry. Next, the lower left brings the prevailing tropical maritime weather, often quite wet since the warm air has picked up moisture from the sea. Last up, from the top left comes polar maritime. This cold airstream often gives us sunny conditions. Maybe that’s because all the rain has fallen in Ireland, or perhaps it’s too cold to pick up moisture from the sea, or a bit of both, but this photo typifies the Lizard coast kitesurfing experience as we head there on this wind direction.

This happens about twelve times a year, just like payday. And like payday any overtime you put in will expand the grin, and unlike payday you don’t always get taxed (although this can happen, see post below). Reckon if we learned to cook every type of shellfish in Cornwall we could just swap work for surf?

*http:www.ocean-image.com take a look at Mike’s site, living around Penzance he gets some incredible seascape shots.