Rolled Shoulder of Stoke...

...was cooking yesterday.

I paddled into the most beautiful waves I've ever been in. Overhead, barrelling, A-Framing, glassy perfection. I thought I'd somehow been transported somewhere else, out of Devon, to some idyllic magazine location. I'd caught four of the most wonderful waves within minutes. Just dreamy.

Never experienced anything like it. This was a new place, another level, a different world. These were so different from the waves I'm used to being in. Proper waves. They welled up towards you with open arms and shoulders to cry on. Oily clean, slick and fast. Magically they somehow transfer this grand beauty into you; as you drop in, fly and feel the sparkle. Reach out, drag your hand: make sure it's real.

This natural tonic is what's needed to clear the cobwebs that weave a jaded mind. Shazam! Clean as a whistle. If only we had waves like this more often! But, of course the rarity is part of the magic.


  1. Waxed lyrical, the rarity does indeed make them ever more precious, Tom!

  2. great narrative. the rarity is truly magic. knowing when to go out when others may not have a clue..

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