Reykjavík Grapevine - 09.02.2007, Blaðsíða 23

8_REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_ISSUE 0_007_TRAVEL/SURFING
On a chilly January afternoon, a Grapevine
journalist and a photographer followed a
group of local surfers to Þorlákshöfn, where
they jumped into the freezing ocean to ride
the large waves breaking right off the rocky
coast.
When I used to think about surfing, I would
always connect it with beautiful white sandy
beaches, turquoise-blue sea, tropical climate,
sun-lotion, shorts or bikinis. Perhaps even
some Piña Colada to cool down while relax-
ing in a small beach-hut between waves.
Given this is the picture I had painted in my
head, I hadn’t even considered that a thriv-
ing surfer-culture existed in Iceland, where
my own concept of surfing is far removed
from the reality.
It would be altogether more reasonable
to picture the extreme-sport enthusiasts
trooping to the mountains for snowboard-
ing around this time of year. I never thought
the barren Icelandic coastline would rank as
a desirable destination to practice the sport
of surfing, attracting a loyal group that hits
the water even in January when the average
temperature often goes below zero and the
ocean’s temperature is little more than five
degrees celsius. But for hard-core surfing
devotees, the only thing that matters is the
waves, not the glorious extras.
I discovered that surfing spots in Iceland
are considered to be top of the line and the
surfing conditions rank highly on the world-
scale. If you don’t mind the cold and the
strong currents, the locations easily qualify
as outstanding surfing destinations, particu-
larly during the winter months when the size
and frequency of waves are at their peak.
After a 40-minute drive from Reykjavík,
we arrived in the small fishing village of
Þorlákshöfn. Located on the south coast of
Iceland, Þórlákshöfn is blessed with quality
waves breaking right off the coast. Once
there, we met up with Ingó, who has been
surfing here for seven years, Tinna, a begin-
ner in the sport, and Arana, a New Zealand
native who has been surfing in Iceland for
the past five years. While putting on their
gear they explain that you need to be well
prepared and dress in a 6mm wetsuit from
top to bottom, covering every inch of your
skin, except for the face, to hit the water.
“Yeah, these aren’t exactly friendly con-
ditions,” Arana says as we stand at the park-
ing lot and look down towards the rocky
coast. Although it’s a beautiful day, the tem-
perature is only a few degrees above zero.
Only two days ago it had been snowing and
I can’t help wondering if this isn’t as extreme
as surfing can possibly get.
“Has anybody told you you’re insane?”
was my first obvious question.
“Well, yeah, all the time! We sometimes
meet the people who are waiting for the
ferry to Vestmannaeyjar here at the harbour.
If they have been watching us out there,
they usually ask us if we’re nuts,” Arana
says. “I never even imagined that there was
the slightest possibility of surfing in Iceland
before I came here. I just found out about
it after meeting Ingó. But here, the waves
can get up to seven metres high. That’s just
amazing,” he adds.
Two other surfers step out of a car parked
right next to ours and start getting ready. I
am curious to know if the surfing scene is big
in Iceland. They tell me it’s not a large group.
About ten Icelandic regulars and an occa-
sional foreign surfer have caught on to the
idea. Every year a few new surfers join the
group but, understandably, not all can stand
such harsh conditions. It’s not enough to buy
all the expensive gear: in the end, all that will
keep you out in the water long enough is a
strong will and determination.
The wind is favourable according to the
weather forecast. The group speeds to the
next good surf spot, which are plentiful,
apparently, especially around the Reykjanes
peninsula and Snæfellsnes. Some of them
are well known, such as Þorlákshöfn, Sand-
vík and Grindavík. Other spots are kept a se-
cret. Only the die-hards know about them,
and they like to keep it that way.
Watching the long stretch of unwelcom-
ing rocks covered in seaweed that separate
the land from the black ocean, I ask Tinna if
she isn’t at all scared of banging her head on
one of them.
“Yes, a little bit, but the guys tell me
there’s no need to worry,” she says.
With that said, she pulls the wetsuit hood
over her head, climbs down a rocky cliff with
her surfboard under her arm and jumps into
the water. I guess it’s all just a question of
facing your fears, I tell myself as I stumble
down after them and try not to fall on my
head.
The threesome paddle out to the point
where the waves break. One after another,
apparently unafraid of any serious crashes,
they start dropping into the waves like noth-
ing was easier. From where I stand, they look
like small seals swimming around in the dis-
tance. I can only imagine how they are feel-
ing. Not only are they free from a crowd of
noisy beach-goers, but the landscape out
here provides dramatic scenery probably not
familiar to many non-Icelandic surfers, mak-
ing it all the more special.
Suddenly Ingó comes running out of the
sea. Considering the conditions, my first
thought was that he had fled the cold wa-
ter to seek some warmth. My guess was far
from correct. He only wanted to change a
surfboard. “As long as there’s surf, we won’t
be leaving!” he said, and ran back to the
ocean.
As the weather can be quite unpredict-
able the surfers have to use every last minute
they can go out. They never know when it
will be possible to ride the breaks again. Af-
ter more than two hours, when me and my
photographer are starting to get pretty damn
cold standing there on the slippery rocks and
staring out to the ocean that seems to be go-
ing flat by now, one after another, the surf-
ers put their feet on dry land again and start
heading back to the car.
“These were some OK waves today. Yes-
terday was much better though,” Ingó tells
me as the three of them start packing their
stuff back in the car.
“But aren’t you all freezing?” I ask.
“Well, a little bit yeah. The waves weren’t
as good as they usually are. Having to wait
so long in between makes it a little cold to
be out in the water,” Arana says. Even if he is
shivering from the cold, only pure enjoyment
shines from his face.
“The worst thing is when you have to
take your wetsuit off outside the car when
the temperature is below zero,” Ingó adds:
“But still, we are definitely going back to-
morrow.”
With the car’s heating system set to the
max, we wave goodbye to the group. What
we’d learned was that although it takes time,
patience and stamina to get any good at surf-
ing (a reason why so many beginners don’t
stick it out for long before giving up), when
you accomplish standing on your board and
ride the wave for the first time, there’s no
turning back.
It is a feeling so addictive that neither
snow nor frost can keep you from running
back into the freezing cold sea. This is why a
group of surfing-maniacs returns to the wa-
ter over and over again and continue search-
ing the coastline for some new undiscovered
spots and the wave of a lifetime.
“As Long as There’s Surf, We Won’t Be Leaving!”
Text by Steinunn Jakobsdóttir Photos by Gulli
3 March – 1 April
French
Film
Festival
Erna Ómarsdóttir in “The Warriors of Beauty” by Pierre Coulibeuf
Alliance Francaise in cooperation with Peugot & Bernhard present: