I’m gutted about the earthquake in Chile.  I spent a joyous two months in Pichilemu in early 2006.  It is a small  fishing village and home of the famous left point break Punta de Lobos.  It was only 70 miles from the epicentre of the quake.

I arrived for no better reason than having [...]]]>

I’m gutted about the earthquake in Chile.  I spent a joyous two months in Pichilemu in early 2006.  It is a small  fishing village and home of the famous left point break Punta de Lobos.  It was only 70 miles from the epicentre of the quake.

I arrived for no better reason than having no place better to go, and a friend passing through had reported back good things.¬† My friend and I walked off the bus and into the Hotel Chile Espa?±a, and didn‚Äôt leave until summer was over and the hotel threw its end-of-season party.¬† In between, the town and all its inhabitants charmed us, befriended us, and entertained us.¬† We drank wine and played cards with the Americans in the sunlight hallways of the hotel.¬† We baked empanadas with Loretto in her clay oven, and listened to stories about her ex-husband.¬† We went for tea at Senor Jose‚Äôs house, an anglophile who had recreated a West Midlands cul-de-sac in the middle of Chile, complete with half-timbered houses and ‚ÄòLillington Avenue‚Äô street sign.¬† When the sun shined we sunbathed and beach-tennised to our hearts content, laughing at the llamas that strolled the beaches.¬† The sand was black, the water bracing, the waves wonderfully long.¬† Once a week we, along with the rest of the town, went to Sushi Night at the hotel on the hill and ate our fill of fresh pacific seafood. And we got happily drunk on fine Chilean wine at various hog-roasts, pizza nights, and impromptu parties on the porch with Chileans, Australians, Americans, Argentinians, and any one else who felt like a party.¬† We were ‚ÄòThe English Girls‚Äô, and Pichilemu felt like home.

The possibility that harm has befallen this place and its people makes me anxious and sad.  I feel far away and helpless.  I’ve been following news of British travellers reported missing after the quake, and reading reports of looting and desperation in other parts of Chile.  The BBC has filed several reports on the quake, and the Surfer’s Hotel (Pichilemu) webpage has become a forum for news and updates on the situation there (http://surferscottage.com/hearthquake-help/).  Luckily it seems that tourists in Pichilemu that were missing have been located. The Scotsman has reported that the Scottish couple missing for three days are safe and have made contact with their families  (http://news.scotsman.com/scotland/Scots-couple-fled-to-the.6117712.jp).  They had to run to high ground to avoid the tsunami caused by the earthquake, and borrowed money to get the bus to Santiago. Thankfully it sounds like severe communications problems are the main problem in the Pichilemu area, rather than loss of life.  This is not true of other areas nearby, where people have lost lives and livelihoods.

Chile now faces the task of rebuilding and recovering from this disaster.  I wish I could help, even just to send luck and strength to those who need it.  Surfing doesn’t rebuild houses or support families in the short term.  But if, in the long term, it can encourage people to visit Chile and aid its recovery from nature’s whipping, then that is no small feat.  It brought me to this lovely little corner of the earth, and it will take me there again, I am sure of it.  I hope it takes you, one day, too.

Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a winter surf right now.  The coldest, windiest, most heart-achingly, nose-drippingly, toe-numbingly frigid kind.  You think I’m trying to be funny, but I’m not.  I’m serious.

When I got the news that I was going to Washington D.C, capitol city of the good ole U.S.A, for three months, [...]]]>

Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a winter surf right now.  The coldest, windiest, most heart-achingly, nose-drippingly, toe-numbingly frigid kind.  You think I’m trying to be funny, but I’m not.  I’m serious.

When I got the news that I was going to Washington D.C, capitol city of the good ole U.S.A, for three months, I was stoked! It was work, I was getting paid, it was life experience and a change of scenery.  I mean, what really happens in Cornwall in January, February and March?* I got on the plane in the New Year full of anticipation.  Two months later and it is still good.  A beautiful city, cosy apartment, new friends and NYC only a bus ride away.  But something is missing…

The smell of salt on the air, a moving mass of water, dark cliffs and bright beach: I miss the sea. I miss the surf.  Doctor, what can you give me for a chronic case of the surfing blues?**

 

*good surf, snow, Rage Against the Machine tickets and babies, apparently.

**Diagnosis: a flight to California Р$120, thank you Virgin America!  In the meantime, if you are near the sea, squeeze into that wetsuit, wax up the board, and catch a wave for me – no matter how cold it is.