Surfing Scheveningen

Just like old times, we (Steve and I) took to the road with surfboards in the back and some chilled-out soundtracks throughout. The tank was filled with petrol, the tyres with new air and myself with vla (a Dutch flavoured custard dessert). Of course, we were frothin' (with excitement, not vla).



It was the first time I have ever surfed in freezing cold water, and was glad I had booted and suited (and gloved) up. It was not cold at all on first entering the water, as my body was covered by a thick 4-3 wetsuit and booties and gloves. It was just my unexposed head that felt the brunt of North Sea cold. It was so cold that I was reluctant to duck-dive. Every time my unexposed head resurfaced into the air, there was a huge 'BONG' of coldness. It felt like my head was being compressed and my jaws were being set into concrete. But really, it was all good. There was still the same relaxed thrill of surfing. The wild peace of the ocean. The gracious power of the waves. All of it was here in cold Atlantic Holland. The cold was just another awesome variation of surfing, a sport and a lifestyle.

Thanks to Steven's impeccable preparation and inside local knowledge, we had a good location, next to the manmade rocky barrier reaching out to sea, and good timing, with a good clean consistent sea swell that is rare on these Dutch coasts. The cubed rocks had green algae spread over them and looked like artistic green giant toy blocks. The red and green lighthouse shipping indicators also added some landmarks in the surrounding ocean.

We had a good solid surf session, and I caught a few nice 'cheeky' rides on Steven's 5'4 Fish. After two hours, I got caught in the worst rip of my life. As learnt, I just kept paddling in a direction parallel of the beach, keeping any panic thoughts clear of my mind.

Afterwards I showered in the hot, itching hot shower water generously provided by the surf shop and enjoyed an apres-surf lunch of kibbeling (battered fried pieces of fish popular in the Netherlands and Germany), while Steve re-entered the freezing water, hungry for more waves.

Afterwards, we chilled out on the beach deck on beanbags, sipped hot chocolate and revelled in our stoked fatigue. The waves were good enough for me. Good enough that I would not mind living and working in the Hague and surf nearby Scheveningen.

Kibbeling

Stevie's foamy Ugg-boots.