MAWGAN PORTH: THE GALE ON TUESDAY 14TH JANUARY...

Gale On Tuesday…

Approaching the entrance to the bay,

The strong wind became violent from the west,

Resisting then turning me, howling its displeasure,

As from my grasp my board it attempted to wrest,

Before whipping up spray and particles of sand

Like bulleted needles, which smacked into my face

To dissuade, wrack and ruin any leisure,

Forcing my expression into a protective frown,

Thwarting the advance towards the Atlantic’s affray…

Clinging to my board, tightly wedged ‘neath one arm

And the persistent pin-pricks stinging facial skin,

The elements simply seemed to want to inflict harm

As the sea-god Poseidon bellowed with feisty grin;

Then seven oystercatchers across the ferment flew east,

Calling warnings, speed accelerated by the squall. 

I heeded their cries, yet still blundered into the beast,

Blown and buffeted and battered by the boisterous brawl;

Waist-high in the cold, wild, screaming tide,

I half-turned and plunged into the path of the swell

Which launched, lurched and levered me into a ride,

My board shaking and shifting as I was propelled into hell…

Pete Ray

January 2020

Tuesday 14th January, Mawgan Porth beach, Cornwall.

300 metres out onto the beach I struggled against a wicked gale from the Newquay area and I could barely see because of the needles striking my face.

Entering the sea was tough, as the wind tore at my board, so that progress became difficult.

The first ride however was remarkable, the tide rushing me a long way to the shore, but the second attempt lasted only a second or two as the sea chucked me upwards, I was hurled from my board and was helplessly swirled around… 

I laughed as I floundered…

After several long, arduous walks out to sea and fast rides, I made my way towards the dunes but used the bodyboard as a rudder to hurry me up the beach…