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My plan was to drive to that much appreciated mountain biking Mekka and see if the self-proclaimed outdoor sports paradise fulfils its promises for surfers too. I reached it in the evening and parked at that camping car parking besides the ruined factory right at the beach.
Tuesday, 17 January
Ich woke up to an overcast sky. It was cold, in the very low single digits. The cold came from the light offshore coming down the mountains. Out at sea a swell with about a metre was running in a low frequency pulse and met the coast in a 45-degree angle. Over at the river mouth a beach break wave was breaking, with two surfers out. I had a quick breakfast and then walked over to town for closer inspection of the swell. It was small and breaking with long pauses, but it was clean. After a while I decided it was good enough to paddle out and headed back to the parking. I dressed in my thickest rubber, grabbed the longboard and walked back to town to join the now four locals out at sea.
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