The Darkness Is Creeping In
Lets give it four hours, it’ll probably be icey.
Shannon to Sligo, doable, need to reach Shannon first.
I do and stay up too late chatting about LUE.
0500 ding ding, up you get sunshine.
Weetabix: check Sultanas: check Soya milk: check.
Ice was forecast, but there is only a light dusting, no need for water, just get in and go.
The county councils seem to have learned from their mistakes as there is a new an abundance of grit dirtying my recently washed car. But at least I can drive at the limit now.
I fly along the motorway trusting that other cars will have their fog lights on. I always regret my driving afterwards, but in the moment getting to the surf supersedes anything else. It is a stupid choice to drive this fast.
My back and neck begin to ache and I’m getting a headache. I realise I’m sitting hunched right up over the steering wheel. The combination of concentrating on the small distance my lights give and the oppressive fog pushing down on top of me is wearing me out. I feel claustrophobic, as if the fog is physically pushing me down into crouch.
There is no let up. I get to Tuam and decide I can take a break. Half an hour power nap will relax me a bit and give the fog time to clear a bit.
I hit the road again with a bit more brightness. I don’t know if this is better or worse. No there’s a few idiots who think because it’s past 7am they don’t need the lights. One car happily flashes me back when I try to get his attention. But as I continue the fog starts to lift a bit.
I begin to get horrible flashbacks to my last adventure in fog.
I arrive in Enniscrone too early despite my mid-trip nap. It’s still foggy.
Freezing Foggy.
I meet up with Cain, we chill for a while talking about what to do. The wave I came up to shoot won’t be working for another few hours so we cruise the coast looking for something to keep us occupied.
We find a little bay with a few waves coming through. There’s a bit of slab around the corner but tide is already too high for it, although it’s hard to resist the barrels I can just glimpse over a ridge of grass.
No point jumping in the water, much more likely to get shots from land despite the distance.
I start wandering looking for interesting angles. Land shooting is bloody boring but you make up by being able to move around to get different angles and actually compose shots properly.
And you have more options of things to shoot during the lulls.
My battery is almost dead now. I regret not arranging some signal with Cain before hand. He stays in picking off the best ones, always trying something interesting.
Eventually he comes in and we head back to the house to refuel ourselves and our electronics.
By the time we get all our stuff together it’s time to head over to the main event.
We arrive to a seething cauldron of white water.
Yeah Cain I think I’ll just shoot land here as well.
Ferg, Shane and Dyl are there as well and don’t waste time suiting and booting and entering the fray.
Dodging bombs is the order of the day, Shane nabs one followed by Dylan.
Ferg sits patiently out the back, waiting for something none of us can see.
It comes and he strokes in on the absolute wrong side of the peak. His knowledge becomes apparent as he sits tight letting the lip fold right over him, embracing and enclosing him. Fergal doesn’t seem to mind he had his line set before the wave even appeared on the horizon.
Cain is surfing a board much too big for the conditions and pays for it a number of times before he finally cranks hard off the bottom and tickles the face with his right hand. Braking just enough to get hosed by the spit then exit moments later to the hoots of all.
