Fragments

Brown British Barrels

Words by Angus Piper. Photography by Henry Plewes. October 2024.

The icy offshore cuts through the estuary, revealing a hollowed chocolate paradise…

Smiles at the gate as we scrambled to get a glimpse of the waves in the sacred light of dawn.

‘We couldn’t even see the waves but we could hear them’

Then the sun shone for just a moment. Enough to marvel at unridden waves in the early morning chill.

As the tide quickly dropped, hollow waves began to arise like flowers in autumn. Wetsuits have never been put on quicker as we ran to empty waves that looked like they were only getting better. It’s days like these that make you forget the cold and numbness, where waves and whoops of joy warm you like an everlasting log burner.

Clouds covered the cliffs; spray stung the eyes. Every surfer breathed heavy, as if for the first time. Battling the Burgh current was worth the eventual prize.

The angle and swell direction all seemed to line up like dominos just waiting to be blown over by offshore wind. Scoring like this really feels like a blessing and a privilege. The simple calculated luck of being in the right place at the right time

Some surfers stared, some started to paddle, others just smiled.

And it was so dark inside it felt like I needed a headlamp.

Burgh Island hotel wistfully watched as hooded heads laughed and danced out of brown barrels coated in the days of recent rain.

When the shape, power and feeling of a wave is like this, all you can do is dance across it.

There was a special feeling out there, it was harmony between the surfer and the wave, the clouds and the rain, the wind and the spray. It’s not often that these days come around but when they do and the elements align, there is no sweeter feeling.

A near perfect day to close off what has been a quality autumn of waves across the UK. Bring on the winter!