COAST - MEXICAN WAVES

COAST – MEXICAN WAVES

Last winter was fruitful in terms of chunky low pressure systems battering the south west but time and again the wind was from the west or northwest. There were no complaints from the Motley Crew who capitalized on this trend with numerous visits to the far flung corners of Cornwall but like starved addicts they were hungry for a classic southerly forecast to light up St Ives bay and feast on the joys of the thumping beach breaks from Hayle to Gwithian. Duly rewarded, the crew scored such a session, JC reports from the dunes of Mexico’s, a small sandbar with a big punch!

Words John Carter, Finn Mullen //

Photos John Carter

(This feature originally appeared in the November Descember 2015 issue of Windsurf Magazine. To read more features like this first, Print and Digital subscriptions are available. Prices include delivery globally for 10 x issues a year!)

EARLY WARNING
My first warning came from Timo who had spotted this blip on the weather map a week early. The red phone in my office had been dormant most of the winter, submerged under piles of overdue bills, hard drives and letters from the editor asking me to stop writing about my red phone, but one morning I luckily spotted that good old familiar glow flashing on and off through the debris. I scrambled to pick up the receiver wiping the layers of dust as I listened to the encrypted message (well it wasn’t encrypted but I can’t speak Northern Ireland’ese so I had to decode it) – ‘JC, this is just a warning, but next Saturday in Cornwall is looking epic, I know you had promised to take the Mrs to that fancy new restaurant at Portsmouth’s Tesco but this could be one of those days you don’t want to miss!’ A week is a long time for a forecast to change but gradually as the next days unfolded, the stars started to line up and frantic plans were made to swap round my dinner date and prepare for being locked out of the house for the next year and a bit.

GREEN LIGHT
Then on Thursday I heard Jamie Hancock was back in the UK fresh from three months in Cape Town and knowing he loves sailing down in Cornwall sent him a message to see if he was up for it. Now bearing in mind he had just spent all that time away from his girlfriend Becky, a trip to Cornwall on his first weekend home was going to go down like a lead balloon with extra lead and no balloon. Apparently she was riding her bike when he finally mustered up the guts to make the phone call informing her of his imminent departure to head west with the crew. Mid phone call, she hit a pot hole and went over the handle bars, to make matters worse she had just had a terrible day at work and this latest news was the last straw. But fortunately Becky has a heart of gold and despite a few cuts and bruises as she lay crying in the middle of the road, she gave the green light for Jamie to join the crew. Any normal person would of course refused and tended to their girlfriend lying in the road, fortunately Jamie is a Motley and left her there thankful that it was not his own bike that was potentially damaged and his day with the lads would not be ruined.

EARLY KICK OFF
So come Friday night (which was also Timo’s wife’s birthday!) we were gathered uncomfortably and guilt ridden at Timo’s place in Poole, all revved up for a 4am departure. According to Timo we had to be at the beach for first light because the tide was going to be flooding out and arriving any later we would miss the prime window. On top of the tides, we had heard through the grapevine that a convoy of would be warriors were also heading down from Witterings and other south coast haunts since Cornwall was the only place with a solid forecast. We were now in a race against the tide and the crowds!

So, after leaving behind three disgruntled wives and partners and enduring the miserable three and a half hour drive in the darkness, we finally pulled into Gwithian at 7.30am, eager for our first view of the conditions and to see if all this hassle had been worth it. Bitter disappointment was an understatement; for starters the sky was totally overcast, the swell looked kind of sloppy, there was barely a breath of wind and it was slightly onshore; it looked and was, utter pants. We sat in silence in the van as we contemplated this could be a wasted day, not to mention the £80 worth of diesel down the pan! We were at a low point normally reserved for watching England in a world cup penalty shootout. Timo however was still optimistic and declared we needed to move further round the bay where at least it would be more cross off. Next stop was Uptons but the caravan site was closed until 8am so we trundled further round the bay to Mexico’s, duly named after a pub that is no longer there – which was just as well as I might have called in for one or two crates of Corona!. Maybe not quite as clean as the Bluff but usually a foot or two bigger, Mexico’s is also less messy in a southwest wind than Gwithian and always worth a look if you are stuck for options in the area.

We were first in the car park and after watching from the dunes for five minutes Timo was looking far more positive that we could be on for a decent session. Over towards St Ives, the grey clouds were starting to disperse with a hint of blue occasionally peaking through. A few solid gusts were starting to blow the tops off the sets which seemed to be building as the tide started to flood out. I carefully assembled all the camera gear I would possibly need to last the day, in full knowledge that the last time I was here the walk down to the beach is an absolute killer and even worse back up.

The first thirty minutes were kind of slow going but all of a sudden the wind, waves and sunshine all just cranked in and the conditions started to fire. From fickle, big board, plod out, 5.3m weather, the wind started to howl, while the sets simultaneously hit the golden slot at mid-tide, with long peeling walls and smack-able lips wedging up on the inside. With the skyline of St Ives providing an awesome backdrop and the lush Atlantic waves rearing up as long green lines up on the sandbar, Mexico’s was providing a picture postcard back drop for every single ride. Jamie was hot on Timo’s heals to hit the water and wasted no time dialling into the conditions, smashing out enormous airs and throwing heavy hits on every section possible.

Timo was out for glory throwing down multiple forward loops off the lip, late hits and monster aerials. By mid-morning there was a solid crowd on the water, with the likes of Jamie Hawkins, Stefan Hilder, Sarah Bibby and the predicted south coast posse joining the Mexican wave fiesta (minus the dodgy hats and even dodgier tacos). Timo was forced to change down gear mid-session which meant a painstaking walk back up the sand dune back to the van to re-rig to his 4.7m and smaller board but when he came back he was charging harder than ever. By 1pm we were all toasted. The combo of a 4am wake up, on the water by 8.15am and four solid hours of hard-core conditions was enough; plus the wind had pretty much died come low tide. We stopped at M & S in Hayle to stock up on flowers, chocolate and anything else three apologetic windsurfers could offer in appeasement to our better halves for a day spent enjoying ourselves on the beach, while chucking in a few cans of spicy Pringles for the road in honour of our Mexican sojourn. It was a classic Cornwall day and even more classic Motley day as we learned the wind had filled back in on the pushing tide as soon as we left. Hasta la vista Mexico’s – we will be back! (if our wives and girlfriends don’t read this!).