Not off the west coast of America in the middle of the Pacific, but in the Mediterranean near the Italian mainland - Hawaii and Sardinia don't seem to have much in common. Instead of full swells and constant trade winds, the Mediterranean is better known for local wind systems or shallow water spots. But why did Kauli Seadi get lost here a few years ago - does the island have more to offer wave addicts than you might think?
That's our hope, because just in time for the start of our three-week trip, the wind maps of Europe are as pale as Leif's office tan. I've often realised that when the wind systems in northern Europe go to sleep, it's worth taking a look at the otherwise often windless regions further south: the reports from the Mediterranean prove me right. My Italian mate Elia also wants to set off: "See you in Capo Mannu. Believe me, Sardinia is magical!"
Less than two hours pass between deciding not to postpone the trip and being in the car on the A7 motorway. We explain to our friends that we're not just going to lie on the beach, eat pizza and drink red wine and leave our Speedos at home. We even have the blessing of the RKI, as Italy is one of the few European countries not considered a risk area at the time of our trip. After around 15 hours, we reach the Mediterranean. We roll onto the ferry in Livorno in the evening and arrive in Olbia in the north-west of Sardinia the next morning, refreshed and well-rested.
From there, we head across the sparsely populated island to the west coast. Capo Mannu looks barren and deserted, and it is stormy and raining. The mistral, which blows along the Pyrenees and across the Mediterranean to finally reach the Sardinian coast from a north-westerly direction, brings a decent wave and cool Atlantic air with it. The winter jackets are quickly unpacked again.
As soon as the sky clears, I impatiently try my luck and climb in with the thought "it'll work out somehow" on a cliff edge completely sheltered from the wind. It doesn't work. Leif, who had bought brand new equipment before the trip, watches sceptically from the car as I, also with new equipment in my hands, am taken by the first white water roller and pulled over the sharp rocks. Even before I stand on the board, I have a cut foot with sea urchin remains stuck in it. Meanwhile, another windsurfer crosses comfortably from the leeward bay to the cape. As the wind is blowing relatively offshore on this day and there is therefore no wind in the shore area, crossing upwind seems to be the much more sensible method of entry.
On the second attempt, however, it also works over the stones - and suddenly the Hawaiian feeling is there. Wind from the right for the 4.7, mast-high waves and pleasantly warm water that feels extra soft compared to the North Sea. The swell, whipped up by the mistral and with a rather short period, turns into the small rocky bay at the cape and sorts itself out. The face of the wave is actually as clean and perfect as in Hookipa. The rides in the inside along the rocks are almost as risky.
While I share the waves with just one local at the beginning, an armada of almost twenty kiters and other windsurfers cross the break later on. Within an hour, the spot is completely overcrowded - another familiar feature of Maui. Towards the evening, it empties out again and we enjoy sliding down one blue wall after another. We are joined by Elia, who is as happy about every wave we ride as if he were on it himself. Sardinia welcomes us with all its magic.
The wind should weaken in the coming days, no longer hit Capo Mannu with full force and turn westwards and thus too onshore. The north coast of Sardinia, where westerly winds blow sideshore, is being discussed. The fact that the wind accelerates in the Strait of Bonifacio between Corsica and Sardinia is another reason to start the car.
The Cala Pischina car park is already occupied by windsurfers when we arrive. "No kiters!" is written on the tarmac. The bay of Pischina, although the term Cala is deceptive in this case, will be our go-to spot over the next few days. Similar to the west coast, there are sharp stones everywhere - most of them underwater and many in the middle of the breaking waves. It's not uncommon for a rock to suddenly gurgle out and spontaneously want to be avoided. Once you have come to terms with the somewhat hairy conditions, beautiful rides to leeward are possible.
The locals show you how to position yourself correctly to avoid landing on the rock heads when you fall. From old single fins and ageing monofilm sails to the very latest material, everything is represented on the water. But whether old or new school, all riders have one thing in common: they go as vertical and hard as possible on every lip. Anyone who has ever been to Haagkat in South Africa knows how much the Italians love down-the-line conditions. Even if the wave quality is nowhere near that of Haagkat, you can see many happy faces here. The atmosphere in the car park, from where you have a good view of the wave, is relaxed and friendly. The wind, on the other hand, is all the more grumpy. Sometimes onshore, sideshore or offshore, sometimes stormy, then calm again, plus sun and rain. We decide against travelling around a lot and looking for better or easier spots. The Italians advise us: "If there's wind and waves, then get out on the water!" The wind is simply too fickle - a rain cloud could come up at any moment and paralyse the system.
After a week in Sardinia, we are more than satisfied with the results. Most of the spots turned out to be surprisingly challenging. On the water it can get crowded, but on land it is difficult to find an open ice-cream parlour. We were finally able to stow away the warm jumper and winter jacket on the last few days after the mistral had subsided. With no wind and bright sunshine, we tend to our wounds and equipment and plan our next steps.
MARSEILLE
The Atlantic is back - the first winter storms are on the horizon according to various forecast models. A night-time ferry trip and we reach Genoa on the Italian mainland. We take our first break on the long journey to the Atlantic in Marseille - the reason: a storm from the south-east. A small but strong wind field promises us the best wind-from-the-left conditions for two days at the French top spot of Carro.
While there is still almost no wind at the French border, it is already blowing for the 4.0 in Carro. Surprisingly, large waves have built up despite the short acceleration distance. My legs still sluggish from the five-hour car journey, I chirp my way into the first backloop. The set behind it clears me and drags the material away while I try to swim after it in the strong current. There are rocks here, especially on land, but this time I underestimated the power of the waves.
Pro Marc Paré, who had travelled from Spain, also had a few moments of brilliance as well as some tough exits. As there is a night-time curfew in Marseille, the French windsurfing scene sees the stormy day as an even more joyful occasion to gather on the beach. The PWA freestylers Anthony Ruenes and Jacopo Testa, with whom we were already on the water in Sardinia, as well as the slalom heavyweights Cedric Bordes and Cyril Moussilmani were also there. After two days, the wind dies and the spectacle is over.
Brittany
We reach Brittany, a region that neither Leif nor I are particularly familiar with. At least we know that when an area of low pressure moves through, the wind usually starts as a southwesterly and with lots of precipitation, just like in the North and Baltic Seas, and later turns to the north-west via the west. For the coming days, the forecast promises a massive area of low pressure, which should bring a lot of pressure and plenty of swell.
For windsurfing in Brittany, however, a third factor has to be right: the tide. The coefficient of high and low tide averages five to eight metres and determines whether a spot is rideable or not. We do some research in the Windsurfers Guide Europe and ask two French people we met in Ireland the year before.
Three spots emerge from the different and sometimes contradictory information: the ever-popular Le Dossen, Île aux Vaches, made famous by Thomas Traversa's numerous missions, and Meledan, a mysto-big-wave spot on Île Vierge, where nobody really seems to know whether you can windsurf properly here.
We get some good days in Le Dossen. The large sandy bay works with south-westerly wind directions, almost all wave sizes and even different tides. Depending on the water level, the different banks sometimes work better, sometimes worse. As the many windsurfers are spread throughout the bay, there is plenty of space. We meet Adrien, one of our informants. His van is labelled with the words Rendez nous la mer - "Give us back the sea".
During the spring lockdown, it was a criminal offence to take part in water sports. Adrien is all the happier now that the first autumn storms are approaching and people are allowed to move around freely, at least during the day. Many French people come to the coast and enjoy being outside in the fresh air despite the autumn weather.
The wind turns to the north-west and we head towards Audierne in the evening to get on the water in the morning in Île aux Vaches - the island of cows is no longer an insider tip. We want to be on the water before the spot gets too crowded and get up a good hour before sunrise. While the coffee is still brewing, there is already a hustle and bustle next to us. A long-haired, lanky guy and his mate rig their sails in the dark.
Thomas Traversa tells me he only has an hour or so, then he has to go back to check out of the holiday home and pick up his family - no time to check if there is enough wind. When Leif and I arrive at the break, Thomas has already smashed a good dozen mast-high waves. The sun rises, Thomas disappears and the ocean is suddenly flat again. Hardly a wave breaks on the long rocky outcrop. Luck or expert knowledge - probably both.
Shortly before the end of the trip, the much-anticipated huge swell arrives and brings Meledan to life, a spot that my brothers and I have wanted to surf for ages. Although the spot combines almost all the difficulties of the waves we've surfed before, Leif and I try our luck. But there's not much to tell about Île Vierge, so the mystical character of this stretch of coast remains intact.
