It is summertime in Australia. It is not in Canada. That was my first thought as an ice cold, 12 foot wave exploded a few metres in front of me. I ditched my board, and fighting against all the rubber enrobing my body, swam deep in the water and waited for impact. BOOM! Pins and needles stabbed the soles of me feet. My heart beat so fast it actually hurt my rib cage. I suddenly had to urinate, defecate and vomit; all at the same time. Like I mentioned, my brain was talking to me, but it wasn’t being very helpful. “You’re unfit. You’re out of your league. You shouldn’t have eaten that breakfast sandwich. You definitely shouldn’t have smoked those two joints. Two joints and a breakfast sandwich?! It’s not even sunrise! How can you describe this in onomatopoeia? Nobody likes you.” Thoughts like these are the consequence of surfing in water temps that wiped out the Titanic passengers. Despite those temperatures, despite my spin through a coldwater rinse cycle, despite those negative thoughts, despite the ice cold water flushing into my five millimeter thick wetsuit, I eventually surfaced with a smile. The cold had tightened my lungs and it felt like I was breathing through a garden hose, but the rewards associated with surfing Nova Scotia in the heart of winter far surpassed the discomfort. What’s more, I was not alone, which was a good thing. A few feet from me, my friends scowled as they fought through their own ice-cream head ache, we caught each other’s eyes and couldn’t help laughing as we noticed four more 12-footers headed straight towards our battered selves. It’s a Tuesday morning in January, and we wouldn’t spend it any other way.
Above: An icy lip about to bring chills to anyone who stands in its path. Photo: Author’s own. Below: Not your typical beach scene. A frigid Tuesday morning complete with 5 metre wave sets. Andrew Hunter scopes the line-up. Photo: Matt Taggart
“Our surfing forebears were passionately devoted to sliding naked into a warm ocean and riding waves. But as the centuries passed and surfing spread to less accommodating climes, new generations of wave riders have nurtured that fire, carrying it forward to every ocean regardless of the water temperature, banking the coals, fanning the flames, keeping it hot when the world gets cold.” –Sam George, The Surfer’s Journal. Vol 17, No 5, Oct-Nov 08
Perhaps you are not convinced about this whole winter surfing phenomenon. To many, surfing is a foreign concept. Factor in the cold North Atlantic, hostile low pressure systems sweeping up the harsh coast of Nova Scotia, and the fickle mood in which they harmonize, which shows little consideration for schedules or work load, and you have something that very few people can relate to. Yet, there are a growing few, including myself, who can no longer imagine life in this cold winter climate without waves. Andrew Hunter, or Drew, age 29, a Halifax-based musician, is one such person. He was right alongside me when the North Atlantic unleashed itself on us. He fell in love with surfing while living on the ancestral shores of Maui at age 18. Since then he’s returned to more familiar waters, and surfs just as much on the snow covered cobblestone points of Nova Scotia as he did on turquoise coral reefs of Hawaii. On that Tuesday we all rolled together in his van. His approach to winter surfing is simple:
“Get in, get waves, get out, get in the van, get heat blasting, get music blasting, get down the coast, get high, stay high, and repeat.”
As a result we almost crashed twice, had great music selection, and could no longer remember whose turn it was to roll the next joint. Cory Barrington is another diehard winter surfer. Cory, also aged 29, hails from New Waterford, Cape Breton, and caught his first wave in the ocean near his family home. Now, Cory is in the process of completing his second degree in physical geography. That is why Cory was navigating. We got lost five or more times. His approach to winter surfing?
“Save up all the piss you can. When you can’t take the cold anymore, let it all go. It’s just like a warm bath.”
As Cory changed out of his wetsuit after our first session, That Smell by Lynyrd Skynyrd blasted on the van’s stereo.
Above: From left to right, Cory, author, and Drew, somewhat lost. Photo: Matt Taggart
“The surfing life is nothing if not a devotion. And true devotion is unconditional” – Sam George, The Surfer’s Journal, Vol 17, No 5, Oct-Nov 08
After a brisk morning session, which included some of the biggest waves surfed all winter, we could slow things down a touch. The surf signaled the end to a serious drought of waves that had affected us all deeply. Drew was ahead of his work and recordings. Cory had yet to miss a class. I had compensated for my addiction to waves by substituting them with heavy substance abuse. Hell, I had even taken up squash. Finally, the waves had arrived. Cory blew off some important classes. Drew cancelled meetings and snuck out before his wife woke up. We got a quick fix that Tuesday morning, and now we could invest in some discovery. We knew there was a wave breaking somewhere that no one else would be surfing. When we found the road to the point unplowed, we knew it could be the place. When a snowplow showed up and escorted us right to the sea, we knew we were the first to find the wave that waited on the snowy cliffs. More importantly, we knew that no class, no meeting, no amount of grief from loved ones, and no substance could rival the feeling of joy that comes with discovery and surf in Nova Scotia.
Below: The road to discovery. All Photos: Matt Taggart
originally edited by snc
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