ADVENTURES
Anne Garrick from Leicester South NWR was devastated when her vintage surfboard went missing – but the local surfing community swung into action
S
urfing is my passion. Not, you understand, in the contemporary way, with a buoyant, man-made surfboard that you paddle out to sea. No, I do it vintage style, using a flat wooden board with a curved front end that has only the buoyancy of a wooden plank and is entirely dependent on wave dynamics and the surfer’s skill to stay afloat. It is relatively safe, however, since all you need for a good run-in is 2’6” depth of sea and a two-foot wave with a bit of power behind it, which will deposit you in two inches of water on a good, flat beach. Then you pick the board up, walk back into the waves, and do it again! Nowadays, I need a wetsuit, but when I learnt to surf in Cornwall more than 60 years ago, no-one had wetsuits; the excitement of it all kept you warm. Well, what with Covid, and my husband awaiting a knee replacement, I hadn’t been on my surfboard since 2018. But at last, knee had been done, husband was walking, and in June, we went to Manorbier, in Pembrokeshire. Castlemeads, where we stayed, was perfectly located near the beach. Straightaway, I rushed off to check it out. Perfect! The sun was shining, the tide
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out, exposing a flat beach; children were playing in the clear stream, which spread out, sparkling, across the sand, and families were pottering in the rock pools. Next day, as soon as the tide was onto the flat, down we went complete with beach gear, and my trusty surfboard and I had a great time in the waves.
Mizzly weather
The next couple of days were a bit mizzly, but close by, we found a short, flat, headland walk with spectacular cliffs, and explored the 12th century church, then ventured further afield to Stackpole lily ponds and Picton Castle. The day before we left, though, the sun was shining once more, and off we headed for the beach. My precious (and irreplaceable) surfboard was missing! It was not in the car, nor was it on the beach, where we must, incredibly, have left it. I hastened to the café attached to the surf school and explained about my loss. Well, these days, they’re not graced with the name “surfboard”, they don’t even call them bodyboards; they go by the undignified term of “bellyboard”! However, the staff at the café were most sympathetic when I said I’d had it since I was 10, and absolutely determined
to help me find it. The hotel owner joined in, and onto social media it went.
Unconfirmed sighting
By 10.00 pm, a sighting had been reported; someone had seen a bellyboard lying in the grass at the far end of the beach. At 7.30 am the next morning, I was down there, in the rain, looking for it, but after half an hour of searching, there was no sign. We were leaving that day, so sadly, I had to assume it was lost. What a homecoming it was to find a message on our answerphone to say my board had been found. One of the hotel’s young waiters was meeting his friends for a barbeque on the shore. When he got there, they had gathered up wood for the fire – and there on the top of the pile was my surfboard! “You can’t burn that,” he told his friends, “It’s a bellyboard!” He took it home, whereupon his mother put it on social media to try and discover to whom it belonged, and the hotel owner claimed it on my behalf. So it was saved from the flames! We have booked a further few days at Castlemeads later this year to collect it. I’m hoping for a good west wind to generate some surf, and sunshine!
