Ruckie phoned in another surf report on the Friday night. "The swell is rising", he said."Inchydoney will be good tomorrow". So on the Saturday, with John already gone in The Volkswagen, the three of us fastened the boards to the roof of the Corolla (using the new strap-twist technique to eliminate wind noise) and sped for the beach. So we were stunned to meet Leary in Clonakilty on the way home and saying that it was dead - he hadn't even put on his wetsuit. Suspecting that Leary is more interested in women than waves these days we continued on regardless and were rewarded with a nice even 3-foot swell coming in on an incoming tide.Not quite Ruckies predicted 10-footers, but definitely not Learys pond. So out we went, ourselves and what we thought were 2 Australians. It wasn't long before myself and Eddie were trading waves with our Southern Hemisphere competitors while the younger Vaughan contented himself with belly-rides in the foam. The swell built as the tide came further in and competition for the best waves was keen, with plenty near misses. So we surfed 'til sunset and that night, while flushing out the salt water in a Cork pub, who walked in but our two Australian rivals (one was from South Africa actually). The link was made and stories and phone numbers swopped as we surfed our way through gallons of porter.