Excerpt from ‘The Zawn’

“Think you could eat one?”

A thin smirk crosses Jayce’s face as we continue our tramp through a field of decomposing cauliflowers framed by a hedgerow over-run with cow-parsley. With each step we triumphantly squish the yellowing, spoilt winter brassicas into the clay dirt beneath. This is not a winter mission, far from it. We had spent the past seven months largely avoiding mud. Choosing surf breaks for their convenience, tarmac changing opportunities and sheltered aspect to the rawness of the elements.

I had rallied the crew for a goose chase. A solid bunch comprised of folks that understand that a surf mission like this is at worse an excuse for a coastal amble and a pint at the local. At best, the chance to shake off the shackles of familiarity and convenience that had been holding us back through the colder months. More specifically an incessant run of wild, onshore conditions that had ruled our waters and weather reports for weeks; bending bare trees and whipping the sea into a frothed mess…..

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