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Let's face it, May was a complete dud. A great horrible H settled over the country for the entire month keeping any promising swells at bay. So it was with an unfamiliar sense of expectation that we headed for Garretstown where a decent south-westerly swell was expected. A bit of a gale had blown up though and when we got there it was playing havoc with the swell, sending otherwise good six footers crashing into each other and resulting in a sneaker-set orgy. I only stayed out for a half-hour while Eddie braved it out with a few entheusiastic beginners. Maybe next week.
All down for low tide where a fine swell was gradually messed up by a strenghtening wind. The sets came in like clockwork at first and some nice 5-footers produced a few satisfying rides. We'd optimistically brought only our Summer suits so the icey waters and stiff wind had us heading to the Surfers Lounge for coffee after only an hour while the young Vaughan was tossed about snuggly in Eddies Winter suit.. It looks like Summer '98 will only be remembered by the anorack makers.
The previous couple of month frustrations had us believing that we might never again see a decent wave on the South Coast. The omens were good leaving Cork on Saturday though. The Corolla was humming underneath the three boards and more importantly, the British Navy offshore buoy was giving us a wave interval of 7 seconds and decent amplitude. This was no day for Garretstown, it had to be the Golden Triangle. We hit Castlefreke first. Sure enough, a nice swell was rolling in but didn't seem to be working too well at rising mid-tide. So on to Redstrand where a few two footers flopped on to the beach, but this place always saves it's best for low tide anyway. We knew Inchydoney wouldn't let us down and we were right. After careful study we settled for the East Beach where the discerning surfer was spoilt for a choice of unlimited left and right-handers as a beautiful, regular dead-southerly swell threw 3 to 6 footers onto the beach. Given the warm weather it was amazing that we were the only three souls taking advantage of these glassy wonders. It was like shooting fish in a barrel as Eddie and myself duelled, claiming ride after ride. Meanwhile young Niall got in some valuable practice on perfect waves.
We surfed 'til dusk before retiring reluctantly to the bar of the newly opened Inchydoney Island Hotel. This was the perfect send off before myself and Eddie set off to the beaches of Australia and California respectively. The only bum note was struck when my new red towel which was cushioning the boards on the roof was lost to the ditches of the Cork-Bandon road on the way back. It was nearly worth it.
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