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Eddie was on the phone all week predicting a huge swell, pushed on by a growing depression 300 miles out and closing. We'd been let down before by Eddies dubious meteorogical interpretations, but spurred on by the law of averages (surely he can't be wrong all the time), we eagerly headed west. The spirits were high zooming through the disturbingly tidy Rathbarry. Not for long. Instead of the predicted 6 footers, we had rows of irregular 1-2 footers piddling towards the beach. It was a fine day so we went in for a paddle anyway. A summer of mediocre waves continues and we headed for home with Ned musing on how he could have gotten it so wrong (again).
8:15-9:15 am |
