Hard to describe... Surfing has surprised me in the way it has taken over most of the other things in my life that I used to think mattered. Cultural stuff. Trends. The boozer and that. Ireland is slowly evolving away from the connected, community based, hospitable (to all except each other of course) and grounded kind of life that they lived three generations ago. Funny then, that the fancier and more modern the Irish people become, the more they want older, real stuff. I have found all those things and so many more in our line-up. They’ll laugh if they read this, but its there for each of us… guys who share the ecstasy, the lulls, the beatings, the rush and of course the craic. Its a shared, unspoken identity that can go deeper than the deepest of dividers here.
For most people, surfing becomes a life force of its own inside us. Make no mistake, we’re no pro-surfers over here, but with the constant exposure to raw Atlantic power and panoramas that take the breath away as a matter of course, the surf ends up deep in our guts. I know it has made me move more with the seasons. Like some neo-pagan… Spring for new warmer water. Winter for cold, blunt, no nonsense material. Life for me revolves around the tides, daylight and movement on the face of the water. And until someone – Laird probably – figures out a way to physically ride on top of sound energy or light, surfing is about as close as any of us will come. And it’s close enough for me just as it is anyways.