Surfing the West of Ireland in Autumn

Carrowniskey, Co. Mayo. Always a bit crazy, as summer turns to autumn it gets that bit crazier. The hump-backed Clare Island sits on the horizon.

Carrowniskey — October First

The waves were big today.

Carrowniskey — Ceathrú an uisce — is Irish for ‘washing machine’. This isn’t true, but it’s what comes to mind any time I think of this beach. It lies out on the far fringes of west Mayo, where an uneven and shallow beach receives a large and unpredictable swell.

The relentless onward nudge of the waves blankets the shore quickly and repeatedly. They carry sizeable rocks with it with surprising force — each time pulling back and the lo, the assortment of hundreds of thousands of large stones has been rearranged, a sneaky magician’s trick, a large white glove diverting attention while the prestige is performed out of sight.

But it’s only when looking out further you get a full idea of their power and ferocity, the sort of thing I’ve only seen navigated in fishing trawlers or boats, and those maybe not even in real life.

Today was a reminder that humility is an essential part of surfing and of being in and around the water. From the car I could see a few torsos and heads bobbing on waves. It looked a mess. Just getting out to the waves required some smart timing, furious paddling, a bit of know-how, and maybe a bit of foolhardiness. Sizeable rocks from the stony shore were being transported into my feet and ankles with the…