By 1993 I had a newer VW Camper, it was better equipped and I had surfing a lot. The previous year I had done a trip out to New Zealand surfing at Raglan and Piha and stopping on Oahu, Hawaii on the way home. I was very excited about this trip to France as it was the start of my travels and two years of just surfing around the world.

This time Shaun Baxter, Mark White and Jo Turner were coming with me and after an overnight stop at Avranches to pick up Jo we set off for the Messanges area again. We arrived just as the sun was going down and I couldn’t wait to get everyone to the beach. It was high tide and only a bit of a shore break, but a swim in the warm Atlantic was lovely after the long drive.

For the next few days we had small waves on a low tide and nothing at high tide. The sun was out and it was very relaxing, but there was only so much sun bathing we could do.
It wasn’t long before the sand dunes started to look like they could be fun. I had brought my snowboard with the intention of trying a bit of sand boarding with it.
We were soon at the top of the biggest sand dune with snowboard, surfboards (no fins) and a bodyboard. The sand dunes weren’t steep or long enough for the snowboard but were pretty lethal on a surfboard with no fins.
On one trip to Hossegor we bumped into Martin Potter coming out of a café. Jo asked if she could have her picture taken with him and he was more than happy to oblige.

The evenings were spent with a few bottles of French beer or glasses of wine and a barbeque. Mark, Jo and myself were quite happy to chill most evenings at the local bar but Shaun was determined to go clubbing and would often walk or hitch along to ‘Club Le Fun’. He would come back with tales of crazy nights and sexy French girls, until one night he returned much earlier than usual grumbling about ‘elephants’ and ‘too much to drink’ as he went to bed. In the morning when we questioned him he said that when he turned the corner near the stadium he came across an elephant and had turned back thinking he had over indulged in the delights of French Red wine. We laughed at this ridiculous story but when we walked into town later that day we found that the Circus had arrived in town during the night with elephants, tigers and other exotic things. It suddenly made lots of sense and we all saw the funny side of it until we realised the conditions in which the animals were kept. The Tigers were obviously heavily sedated and in cages that were barely big enough for them to stand in.

We soon got into a routine of getting up and going for french bread and fillings for lunch in the morning and then heading down to the beach to lay in the sun. We spent alot of time swimming and body surfing or catching a few small waves if we were lucky.

Lovely as it was, with beautiful weather, we really wanted some good waves.

Mark took to preparing and cooking food straight away and we were more than happy to let him as his meals were lovely. Jo got stuck in with the chores too, I tried to keep using the excuse that I did all the driving but they wouldn’t put up with that for too long, while Shaun did the washing up.

While the swell was small we went down to Hossegor to check out the shops and cafe’s and to watch a bit of the Rip Curl Pro.

When we arrived on the beach Luke Egan was on fire in his heat against Millar with some powerful moves. The next heat saw Shane Beschen beating Thomas and then we watched Dino Andino go through against Rob Bain. Later that day we also bumped into Martin Potter in Hossegor.

The final was between a young Rob Machado and Damian Hardman. Damian’s experience proved too much for Rob and he went onto become the 1993 Rip Curl Hossegor Pro Champion.

With small waves we had time on our hands and Mark became very creative , making himself a nose protector from kitchen foil. Shaun had hit shops coming back with some John Lennon style mirror sunglasses.

Mark’s cooking got better and better, especially at the bbq. I remember lots of great meals using only the small hob in the van and the bbq, he would cook anything from rice, pasta, potatoes or couscous. When it became Shaun’s turn to cook, things were a little more basic but filling.

Earlier that year I had bought a couple of old longboards from Clive Richardson. The largest of which came to France with us just in case it was small. It was huge and very flat so I could catch the tiniest ripples with it. The only problem was that it was so heavy and the walk to the sea over the sand dunes carrying it on my head was a killer. I only managed to carry it over the dunes for 2 sessions on it, preferring to struggle on my shortboard, than carry that longboard. It made me appreciate what it must have been for surfers years a go with the big old logs.

The swell had improved and we had started to get a few good waves but it was now time for Jo to head home as she had to prepare for university. We dropped Jo at the train station in Bayonne, and noticed the pressure chart on a local newspaper. It looked very promising for good waves in a day or so.

The next couple of evenings we would always be found sat on the top of the sand dunes searching the horizon for the new swell as the sun went down. We weren’t the only ones and soon got chatting other surfers, Rich from Hayling Island who worked for Haven and his friends, Pete, Phil and others….

After a week of tiny waves we made a sacrifice to the surf god Huey. Mark made a tree mobile and donned zinc war paint (sun block). We lined up the boards and made a sacrifice of our most prized surf magazine that we’d brought with us.

When the swell hit it was epic. On the morning of the swell when we got to the top of the sand dunes and our first sight of the swell with corduroy lines to the horizon it almost had Shaun and myself sprinting to the ocean. As we started to put our leashes on at the waters edge we realised that Mark was missing. Looking back towards to sand dunes we saw Mark still standing at the top, mouth agape staring at the swell.

Initially the swell wasn’t big but it was solid and Mark said they were some of the fastest waves he’d ever had. Sadly later that day Mark was hit by some idiots board which bruised his kidneys and he was forced to seek medical attention from the local Doctor.

The swell grew over the next few days with the left really putting on a display and a couple of perfect ‘A’ frame peaks between Vieux Boucau and Messanges which broke as good as I’d seen before.

After a few great days of surfing we sat on the dunes with new friends Rich, Pete, Phil and others and watched this huge storm moving towards us. The wind seemed to hit us all of a sudden with no warning and we only got back to the bar before the rain started. The storm really hit that night with the most dramatic thunder and lightning show that only someone who has camped in those pine forests on the edge of the Atlantic will appreciate. The boys had great fun playing chicken with the shore break and because I was trying to get a few pics of them, they pushed it just a little too far and got pretty wet.

For the rest of the trip we had predominately on shore winds at Messanges so spent a lot of time down at Capreton surfing in between the groins and enjoying the great fish restaurants and café’s.

I remember one really heavy day at Capreton when Rich, Pete, Phil and myself went in. If you got it wrong at any point you were slammed into the sand and held on the bottom with such tremedous force you came up gasping for air.

We also bumped into a guy called Liam who worked for Sola down at Capreton.

When it was time to go we were already planning next years trip and meeting up with Rich and the boys to go on to Spain and Portugal the following year.

A couple of the girls who were friends with Rich, Pete and Phil were planning to hitch back to the UK so we offered them a lift to the ferry.

Another thing about surf trips is the music you listen to at the time. I remember listening to a lot of Smashing Pumpkins and a couple of great compilation tapes that Esther (The National Trust warden at the time) and an old friend of mine had done for me (I feel the need to download those tunes from ITunes, now where are those tapes)…

I had never been there before but had heard many tales from Steve and Keith Williams, Dave Jacobs, Sid Pitman and others of great waves of the Cote de Basque, La Barre, Lafatania, Guethary, Bidart and Biarritz. Stuart had been to the south of France with his family when he was younger and Rich had been down earlier that year with Kirk Ray (which is another story………..).

We were interested in surfing the beach breaks around Hossegor, which we had seen articles in surf magazines such as Wavelength and Surf Scene as well as the odd surf movie clip.

We loaded up my VW Camper and got the ferry to Cherbourg. We had decided to break up the trip south with a stop at La Tranche sur Mer to get a few waves. When we got to La Tranche and checked the beach we discovered boats moored up (not a promising sign for pumping surf) we soon realised that we would need to drive up to Sables D’Olonne to get some waves. The local surf shop owner telling us that they only got waves in La Tranche in the winter on really big swells.

When we arrived at Sables D’Olonne it was low tide and the waves were small, but as the tide pushed up we had some nice shoulder high waves.

It was a great start to the trip with Stuart and Ritchie showing that they could mix it up with the French locals. I had borrowed a Canon Waterproof camera from Bryn Saunders and decided to try it out while we were there. Stuart pulled a few airs and soon seemed to have gained respect form all the surfers around us.

For three English lads aged between 19 and 22 years old it took a while to get used to the French attitude to clothing on the beach, ie, it was optional. We normally were not too keen on body boarders but in France for some reason we found we found it very easy to surf along side them.

One night we could see lots of flashing lights and loud music and thought there was some sort of party/rave/festival about a mile away so we decided to go and check it out. When we got there we found it was only a fun fair, but it had a great water log slide which was fun.

After a few days we packed up and headed down to the south. We set up camp on a camp site between Messanges and Le Vieux Port (Port D’Albret), Vieux Boucau. We were camping among the pine trees with only a few hundred metres of huge sand dunes between us and the sea.

We couldn’t wait to get to  Hossegor and those famous beach break barrels. We were a little disappointed to find the swell was quite small but still got into the water immediately and straight away noticed the standard of surfing was very high. After about half an hour we realised we were out surfing with quite a few pros including Tom Carroll, Damien Hardman and others, who were there for the Rip Curl Pro.

By this time I wasn’t getting many waves so I went in and grabbed the water camera. Tom Carroll surfed right by me a few times and Damien Hardman was out without a leash and lost his board out in front of me. I grabbed his board to stop it washing up the beach and gave it back to him. Damien stopped to ask about my photography and if I had got any good shots. I didn’t know what to say. I had only used the camera once before but he was pretty cool and didn’t give me a chance to properly embarrass myself as he started paddling back out immediately.

The swell dropped off after this and we took off to check out Hossegor town, the surf shops and the pro surfers footprints in the paving slabs outside one of the shops.

It didn’t take us long to find the local bakery and discover the delights of fresh French bread and cakes (especially the cakes for Ritchie). We also sampled the local Creperie; one evening we were ordering our crepes and we didn’t know what ‘Chantilly’ was. We only knew basic school French and the waitress only a little English, so she decided to show us. Having had a few beers we thought it hilarious to tell her that in English it was called ‘jism’ and that is what she should tell the next English person who asked.

Ritchie was to be 20 in a few days and hadn’t had much luck with the girls so far so he made himself a sand woman (Rich says it was too much sun and no waves that led him too it), he also felt the need to show off with a local fisherman’s spear gun and fish catch. We really needed to get Rich into some good waves and soon.

We met up with a friend Angus and his girlfriend before Ritchie’s birthday and seeing as the waves were tiny we made the most of the cheap French beer and wine. The lack of decent surf meant that Ritchie’s 20th started early and was destined to end up messy, with way too much being drunk. We drank our total supply of alcohol dry and headed off to the local bar returning some hours later with several very nice grand biere glasses.

As is often the way the very next day the swell came up and it was cranking. We were all bleary eyed, very hung over and the waves coming through on the left were some of the best I had ever seen. When two guys started to paddle out we could see it was a good size too. We soon got ourselves together. This was what had come for, so we got into our wetsuits and paddled out.

The rip on the left was very strong and you had to continually paddle against it in the line up. Later that day I swam out to the right hander with the water camera but wasn’t too keen to be in the impact zone so most of the shots were from the shoulder.

The swell lasted nearly all week and it was soon obvious that we were staying at one of the best set ups along the coast as one day a load of pros including Tom Curren, Lisa Anderson, Michael ‘Munga’ Barry, Paul Russell and others turned up with Maurice Cole and a few Surf Photographers to surf our left hander.

Photographer Alex Williams also turned for the photo shoot.

I decided to grab my camera (It wasn’t worth me even attempting to try and catch some waves while they were out there).

Although, I did look like the poor cousin next to the others Surf Photographers.

Tom Curren was the stand out for me with a lovely style and making it look so effortless and Lisa, Munga, Paul and the others were ripping too. I’m sure at the time I thought I knew all of them, but now I’m not so sure. If any of you recognise who it is in the pics or think I have got it wrong please let me know.

We had such good waves that week that we didn’t need to travel further south and so many of the breaks we had heard about had to be left for another trip. France in September can be one of the best trips that a surfer can make and that year we certainly got our share.

It really is the perfect location for the exhibition to live, being quite literally a stones throw from the break where a lot of the best action and stories can be found.

The website could do with updating, but the map works fine if you want to plan a trip to see the show  http://sandpipershotel.com/

And because taking photos is what we do, here’s a few shots of me and paul getting the place ready this week!

Jason Swain.