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Its 1:00 am when we arrive in a misty, windy, carpark in northwest of Scotland. “See you in 3 hours” says Mike in a gravelly voice and falls asleep instantaneously. But I am wired. I bumped off work a couple hours early to make the last flight from Bristol to Edinburgh, met Mike, then drove the length of Scotland. We have to be in the queue for the freight ferry at 04:00 to see if we can get a place. There’s no room left on the car ferry so this is our only option. This being Scotland, the chart kept changing so we didn’t book ahead, and only made the call to go to the islands on the drive up the road.
04:00am.
After what passes for sleep, we meet Adam who ditches
his van and steps into ours. It’s a nervous wait, but we are on the ferry. I try to sleep again but for reasons known only to the Hebridean ferry operator, the air-conditioning is on full and its like a fridge on the boat. I forgot to take my jacket out of the van, amateur. So, I watch Mike and Adam sleep and wish them bad dreams.
So here we are, the 3 of us, first surf trip together in maybe 4 years. Our friendship was forged on the fickle east coast of Scotland in a time where you went looking for folk to surf with. Me and Adam were first, both frothing on waves after moving to the East Coast at the same time; you need a pal when its -4 Celsius with 30mph wind. Adam is a party boy turned holistic osteopath – he’s a big dude, he could squash you, but he’d rather drink Jasmine tea and connect to the CSF rhythm.
I’m a psychologist, a pretend scientist, and a bit of a cynic. We’ve spent a lot of time driving about looking for waves, avoiding responsibilities, and occasionally scoring – I have never regretted a minute of it – turns out it’s hard to be cynical around him. Mike came later and is a different kettle of nonsense; bit of a dirt-bag, been everywhere, knows everyone, chaos and kindness personified into some kind of man-kitten. But times have changed – kids, house moves, you know the stuff.
So this trip feels precious. And when things are precious, it’s easy to feel pressure – we only have 3 days after all. Truth be told, the trip almost didn’t happen. Mike is recovering from a broken back after a heavy slam at a slab – he still can’t surf and it’s been a hard road. The chart was sketchy, it would have been easy to call it off. But we rolled the dice.
By 08:30am we have eaten a full Scottish breakfast in one of the only Chinese restaurants on the island – it’s an odd start which adds to the surreal feeling induced by sleep deprivation. But there’s a modest swell running, a few feet at 10 seconds. We have two option for waves, east or west.
We make a choice and drive through the mizzle and single-track lanes to a view of a remote beach. There are some breaks in the clouds and little spotlights of silver sunshine hit the ocean. We see a set – peaky, shoulder high, maybe head – decent shape. We are in.
Lethargy turns to excitement as we scramble for suits and boards and fins and leashes, all packed in unfamiliar places. I’m aware of a smile spreading across my face as I hear the familiar sound of jokes at the expense of my skinny legs and long hair. So androgenous.
A quick tumble through the grass to the beach and the water beyond. It’s crystal clear, the yellow-white sand giving rise to turquoise peaks, even in the gloom. The waves get better with each set, the cloud breaks, and we are hooting each other on perfect little walls, each trying to out-do the other with every turn. Save for Mike in the Maram grass, there’s not another soul to be seen. This is what I remember.
And then it’s over, a squall comes in, and the tide moves off the bank. Back at the van, Mike has made some kind of sweet tea with his latest organic potions – the stuff is like nectar, and we laugh at how dirt-bags are always so health conscious.
You can tell he’s kinda bummed he can’t surf, but he’s not letting it show and I admire him for that. He’s got some shots from the session so the froth is back on. Adam and I dissect each one, geeking out over hand placement and body rotation. Mike smirks – he’s just stoked on the light and our dumb grins.
And with that the old connection is restored. Over the following days the waves are average. But the landscape is beautiful and we have time to absorb it. We talk about our lives and the fact that surfing has brought us so much, but mostly we talk about our friendship. In the years that have passed we realise how much it means to have these connections to people and place.
Surfing is the vehicle for this, for us.
On the last morning, conditions come good and Adam and I score a classic point break. It’s overhead and glassy and the waves are long and bowly. We get out feeling tired and happy in the specific proportions that only good waves can manifest. Mike is a little quiet, this is one of his favourite waves, and it was a hard watch. But there is a fire in him, and he tells us so. Up until now he’s not been sure if he wants to keep chasing the surf – but that uncertainty has gone, dissolved by a shared connection to the sea.
On the boat back to the mainland we start planning our next trip.
Tiki Team Rider
14th July 2026
Tiki Custom Surfboard - Drifter Twin - White
6'6" / White
4 St Ives Store
St Ives
United Kingdom
1 Braunton Store
Caen Street
Braunton EX33 1AA
United Kingdom
2 Cowbridge Store
North Road
Cowbridge CF71 7DF
United Kingdom
5 Exeter Store
164 Fore Street
Exeter EX4 3AT
United Kingdom
3 Plymouth Store
36 New George Street
Tiki Surf
Plymouth PL1 1RW
United Kingdom
