“Beer, barrels and “bang”!!! Lucy’s getaway to Fuerte

Name: Lucy Robson
Age: 24yrs
Home town: Brighton

Umm...Lucy shows off her lack of bumper

Punta Blanca

"All I could think was a year ago I was learning to carve gybe and now I was out in massive waves, just praying that I did not dig the rail on any turns."

El Cotillio

Punta Blanca, again

The Decision

Like most windsurfers I was pretty hacked off with the constant artic-like conditions that have swept over the UK, which has been pretty uninspiring for windsurfing to say the least. Snow, sleet and minus temperatures are just not good incentives and even I decided to accept my limits! Coupled with working a 6 month stint in Crawley (ugly chav town 25 miles from Brighton) I just needed to escape. Unfortunately I could not convince anyone to come with me. The usual suspects either had too much work on or too little money. Not one to be deterred I just decided to go on my own! So after studying the wind stats I hedged my bets and booked a flight to Fuerteventura on Sunday 27 February, arranged a hire car and booked accommodation at a surf hostel called “Sol y Mar” on the outskirts on Corralejo for the ultimate budget trip!

After another successful blag at the airport, convincing the check-in crew that my coffin bag (complete with 2 boards, 3 masts, boom and extras) and a massive quiver bag was under 30 kilos, I was on my way! Getting off at the other end I must have looked a pretty sorry sight dragging all this kit because two British surfers kindly offered their assistance! Thank goodness for the international surf amigo! So to the cries of “bring out your dead” we heaved the kit to the hire car and got on the road north to Corralejo, driving in convoy. Once at Corralejo I just could not find the hostel and predictably got lost so at about 9 o’clock tired and stressed I took up the offer of floor space with the amigos…

The Hostel

On Monday morning I got up early and decided to pull myself together and sort myself out, starting with finding my own bed at the hostel. A few enquiries later, assisted by my broken Spanish, I found myself at this dodgy looking building with a guy smoking weed outside. This is the place.

Inside some strange Spanish dude was also enlightening a group of hung-over German guys about his morning’s surf experience. “Yeah man, it was like a 4 metre barrel, maaaan, and I was on it and it was like BANG”. I just burst out laughing and mimicked his surf pose to which he replied, “You do that again I kill you”. Okaaaaaay there!
So after making my introductions and meeting Caspar, Hans, Heinrich, Peter and Steffen (yup, a house full of boys!) I took some kit and headed off road to the north shore to find some waves. After a brilliant session I finally headed back to the hostel and got down to pasta and wine.

The Island of Lucy Lobos

The next day started with full on breakfast and another trek to the beach – this time Flag beach just south of town on the west coast where I had heard that the waves were working on the Island of Lobos and that that was where the locals were heading. Seemed like a plan! I made loads of “danger Robson” stunts and threw myself at every conceivable ramp, determined to land a proper forward or backie. At 6 o’clock I called it a day after 5 hours sailing and took my tired body home.

Wednesday saw a similar episode of pushing it till I could take no more! Having found out that my Swiss friend was going home it was settled that we should all get p*ssed and head out to some bars. After scoring some really nice waves and jumps I was well up for it and needed little persuasion. So we got a bucket and made a massive cocktail of vodka, wine and fruit juice with some beers on the side. After finishing this off we headed to the Waikiki beach bar and just carried on till about 7 when the limits had been breached and it was time for bed.

Calamity at Caleta

Surprisingly the next day I did not manage the dawn surf and finally got out of bed at about 1pm. The wind was just starting to pick up so I headed off-road to the north track to find La Caleta and see if the reef break was working, and it was. I was standing with the locals and just watching some really talented guys make easy work of huge sets that were coming in at double mast high. Not wanting to put a taint on my danger reputation, I rigged the same size sail as the boys on the premise that I did not want to be idling in front of a huge set!
Now when I say reef break I mean it in every sense – there was not a beach in sight! Staggering across the reef to the sea with stifled yelps of pain as I cut my feet up I managed to ebb out until I could waterstart and then used the channel to get out the back. At first I was a bit tentative and more than anything could not believe the noise of the waves as they were breaking. I thought I was at Jaws! I then just decided that you only live once and went for it – which was when I understood why the boys had taken small sails. The apparent wind on the face of the waves was mental and I thought I had suddenly been transported back to the London Boatshow where I was holding a sail against 30 knots of wind! I must have re-told this story alot to most of my friends but I thought I was sailing down a mountain! All I could think was a year ago I was learning to carve gybe and now I was out in massive waves, just praying that I did not dig the rail on any turns.

It really was a great day and a great stepping stone. However, something had to go wrong and sure enough on my drive home on the dirt track I took the side panelling off the hire car as I hit a massive rock. Having inspected the damage and realised it was truly broken I just stashed it in the car and went home to pasta and wine… (and lots of it too)

And so my trip ended a couple of days later with similar episodes of long sailing sessions, late night boozing and lots of surf stories. Now I am just planning my next escape……