A huge thakyou to everyone who made the effort and put in some really hard graft in the cold a wet weather to help clear up the rubbish from the beach last Saturday. We shifted at least 6 big Biffa bins (6600 litres) of plastics and other debris from the beach at Compton Farm Beach (Fields).
A couple of weeks a go I posted a picture of some of the rubbish and asked it anyone would get together with me to help clear some of the rubbish at Compton Farm Beach. It got a fantastic response and then I disapeared off to Wales for a nice long weekend. When I got back Oli Harvey and Matt Harwood from the Isle of Wight Surf Club had done an absolutely fantastic job organising everything. They had got in touch with the SAS (Surfers Against Sewage), Robin Lang at the National Trust and Biffa bins, done advertising, organised bags and gloves. Great work guys and a big thank you from everyone who enjoys Compton Beach to all involved.
The majority of the rubbish was from boats and mainly plastics but also lethal entaglements of fishing line and ropes. It is very concerning for our marine and bird life along our coast. I am sure you have all seen what can happens to these animals if they get caught up in fishing lines or rope.
Well done, it’s your beach so take ownership of it.
The Club Hut – part 3 by Keith Williams
As mentioned in part 2 ‘The Surf Club is Formed’, the club was lucky enough to be able to rent one of the wooden ‘Bungalows’ at Compton from the National Trust for a very modest fee. In fact, I believe it was free, but we made a donation towards the upkeep of the car park each year.
The Surf Club Hut at Compton with John Ainsworth reading the National Trust notice board
In addition, parking in the car park was also free, provided you displayed your club membership card in the windscreen. I remember in the early days, the Hut was in quite good nick & you could ‘book’ the place to stay in over the weekend.
As is usual with communally owned property, it all went down hill, doors being forced, stuff broken and, horror of horrors, boards stolen. Gradually, the cliff edge got closer & closer to the hut; it was originally the inland end of a 3 hut ‘terrace’, but over time the two huts nearest the sea had been demolished as the cliff encroached.
Eventually, the time came when either our hut was demolished as well or it was moved or rebuilt back from the edge. At that time Sid worked for Cheek Brothers & was able to persuade their mobile crane driver to go out to Compton on a Saturday morning & lift the whole thing back to a new position away from the edge.
There was a lot of preparation to do making up a lifting sling arrangement, but the job was a good ‘un, despite the hut door never opening properly again! Eventually, the lease on all the bungalows in the compound ran out (they’d been there since the 1920s) & the National Trust wanted the structures removed to return the area to its natural state. After much lobbying the NT agreed that we could erect a new hut in the corner of the site near the toilet block. That meant that we had to raise the funds to have a new, custom made hut. It took a couple of years with jumble sales, film shows etc, but we eventually got our new hut in October 87.
As it was being installed on site, I said to the supplier, ‘It gets pretty windy here, how are you going to secure it to stop it blowing away?’ He replied rather off handedly that he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
The installation wasn’t complete in one day & he said he would come back the following weekend & finish off. Some of you may remember the Great Storm in Oct 87, mayhem all along the south coast, but one item that never made the news was the fact that the Isle of Wight Surf Club’s new hut had blown clean away & been smashed into a thousand pieces spread all along the Military Road!
There was quite an argument that followed. We refused to pay as we’d not received the goods & the supplier tried to take us to court, but legal opinion was in our favour as the keys to the building had not been handed over & therefore ownership had not passed from the supplier to the Surf Club. A new hut was ordered & constructed & eventually erected on site. By this time though, the club had gone into a bit of a decline, no-one wanted to leave an expensive board in the hut, & many surfers had acquired vans by this time, so few people used the hut for changing. Eventually the hut disappeared, but I had lost connection with the club by this time & I don’t know the reasons why or where it went.
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.
This time Shaun Baxter, Mark White and Jo Turner were coming with me and we had heard there was quite a contingent of other Islanders heading to the South of France.
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.
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 watch the Rip Curl Pro. When we arrived 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.
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.
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. These were my favourite breaks as you could sit just behind the peak and get barrelled on take off.
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.
For the rest of the trip we had predominately on shore winds so spent a lot of time down at Capreton surfing in between the groins and enjoying the great fish restaurants and café’s or I would try and tempt Shaun and Mark to run down the beach and get as close to the shore break as possible for a photo. We also bumped into a gut called Liam who worked for Sola down at Capreton.
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)…