September in Ireland
September and October are my favourite months in Ireland, when the first of the big swells start brewing mid Atlantic and the surf starts to fire.
Ten days ago, I decided to leave Dublin on a last minute decision to head west for the weekend, hoping to catch some waves.
I ended up in the coastal village of Kilkee with Louis Smith and Triona Price and caught the last acts of the Cois Farriage Music festival.
As there was no surf on Saturday, we spent the day scuba diving with a school of up to forty dolphins. Deep underwater, surrounded by these magnificent animals almost so close you could almost touch them, was a special experience.
That night, we very randomly ended up going to see the suprisingly good Ocean Colour Scene. The next morning, no surf to be found, so we teamed up with my long term wing man and veteran of numerous ill conceived adventures, Ali Donald, to sea kayak from Liscannor to Doolin around the world famous Cliffs of Moher. On a big westerly swell this is where the massive wave known as ‘Aileens’ breaks.
Myself and Ali are hatching a plan to come back over the winter and kayak this stretch of coast in big swell, which would be more exposed and full on than any river.
All the following week I had been watching the swell charts for the weekend. From the forecast, Easkey looked liked it would be catching a huge northerly. We drove like demons to Easkey, pulling in at two in the morning. After a few hours sleep, we woke at first light to see the biggest waves I had seen in ten years of surfing this spot. The largest sets were breaking over the pier. I spent two hours surfing some of the biggest, most intimidating waves of my life, not least because for the first few hours, I was the only person on the water. I took off too deep and got caught inside on one particularly big set, and had a real ‘o shit’ moment.
These waves are very far away from where this photo was taken
By midday the wind had swung westerly and the swell had dropped, so it was time to head to Achill island on the remote western tip of Ireland for a wave sailing competition, which is rapidly becoming my new obsession. Achill takes the full brunt of the fury of the Atlantic, and the weather is often so bad that it gives the impression of being on a boat. But the sun appeared on Sunday, and we windsurfed for hours in the most perfect conditions. I am not yet good enough to wave sail but intend to be in the near future.
This weekend I am being dragged away from the west coast to go steep creeking in the Scottish highlands.
Photos by Dani Domeque, Louis Smith and Rosie Cripps
