Living in an old, unheated camper for fourteen months, during the coldest winter in thirty years, Jonathan Bennett traveled clockwise around Britain, surfing every beach he could catch a wave. From the Isle of Harris to the Lizard Peninsula, from Orkney to Anglesey, from Sandwood Bay to Sussex, he shared the waves with seals, sewage and fellow surfers, meeting friendly and not-so-friendly locals, often alone and miles from civilization. Without going near a campsite, he slept with the sound of the sea whispering in his ears, and woke each day ready to shred a new wave.
Jonathan Bennett is a freelance writer and translator. His screen credits include film and TV drama, his travel writing has appeared in The Guardian, The Independent and Time Out, and he wrote the long-standing Roger de Flower column in Barcelona Metropolitan. He also writes audio guides for museums, castles and other damp venues
When you think of surfing, the beaches of Hawaii and Bondi Beach in Australia spring to mind, and that Beach Boys song will drift into your mind and stick. The UK has a surf culture too, that unbelievable has been around for over 50 years now and it has around half a million regular surfers and a large number who try it for the first time every year. Modern surfing was brought to Cornwall by four Australian lifeguards who amazed people with the way they could swoop across the waves. Its spiritual home has remained in the West Country, the place that receives a large proportion of the waves and swells from the North Atlantic. Jonathan Bennett set himself a challenge of catching a wave on eighty separate beaches all around the UK that were suitable for surfing.
But first, he needed a camper van.
Having found one in Hastings, he sets off on his fourteen-month journey around the UK. In what turns out to be the coldest winter for a while, he wishes he had bought one with a heater… Starting in Scotland, he kind of heads clockwise around the country, stopping at promising looking beaches hoping to catch that perfect wave. Living on porridge and endless cups of tea he manages to avoid going anywhere near a regular campsite, sleeping where he can hear the waves crash onto the beach. He will surf alone on one of the most remote beaches in the UK, share the water with seals, great and not so great bodyboarders and the odd unmentionable object.
This is an enjoyable account of Bennetts attempt to surf his way around the UK. The writing is straightforward with good descriptions of the people and places he meets on his surf journey. There is the odd amusing moment and the book is full of surf jargon, thankfully there is a glossary in the back of the book. Sadly what the book is missing is photos, whilst I have been to some of the beaches mentioned, I would have loved to have seen photos of the beaches surfed in the Highlands and Islands. If you have read any of Tom Anderson’s books then you will like this one. 3.5 stars
I have read a few books of this ilk in the past few years - essentially 'man travels around UK pursuing his hobby and writes about it a bit'. Unfortunately these types of books rely on maintaining the reader's interest in the subject which the author is detailing, as well as the standard of writing having enough to carry what can at times be a repetitive subject.
This book, written by a bloke who wanted to surf beaches all round the coast of Britain, fell well short for me. It basically degenerated into a series of chapters of 'Woke up, did some surfing, it was great/average/crap [insert surf jargon to explain why], then went and sat in my camper van'. Writing about his interest failed to rouse much of my interest, there was a terrible lack of real description of the places he visited (except for what the waves were like), and the author's moaning about doing what he supposedly loved doing and jetting off overseas at short notice despite being so poor, apparently - it left me dissatisfied.
I was given this to read by my book group, I'm not sure whether I would've picked it up otherwise. Shame, as the blurb was interesting.
Is this a book about a cool little adventure, serving as a pretext for discussion on about what it is to drop out of your life for a year and follow your dreams? Or perhaps it's a journalistic account which opens your eyes to the inner workings of a sub-culture which is hidden in plain sight?
The author has a stab at both of these approaches but doesn't let you in enough to execute either very well.
It's a great pity, because in the fleeting moments he allows his guard to drop he hints at a far greater depth to his experience than he's sharing with the reader.
Instead, you end up with a fairly descriptive chronological account of surfing over 80 spots around the UK, with only a fleeting attempt at creating a narrative thread which might tie those experiences together.
The author dedicates four pages in the first chapter to setting up the trip, where a bit of time spent explaining who he is outside of his passion and why surfing the coast of Britain is so important to him would have set the context for the following 292.
Later in the book the author expresses his trepidation about getting back to "real life" with his very understanding girlfriend, and confesses to waking up in the night wondering about the future course of his life. This is the good stuff, and you would presume a large part of the reason for heading off on a voyage of discovery, but the author fails to expand in any detail about what, if anything, he's taken from the experience.
If you're a surfer you'll probably appreciate the very detailed and well written accounts though.
I'm not a surfer so I was really reading this to learn more about the landscape and places visited and I got this to some extent. However, as a non-surfer I found the prose gave me a close feel for what it might be like to do this and want to do this. It has some lovely description and pushed me close to a 4 star, but for me the focus on surfing didn't quite tip me over the edge. If you love surfing then you are going to go the four starts upwards.
For a diarist the author refused to reveal much about himself. Disappointing and repetitive although I was left with a sneaking admiration for the private, perceptive and articulate writer who didn’t waste words but sadly was too disciplined to allow his imagination to exaggerate a tale.
I know nothing about surfing, though I did go on one of the despised wooden surfboards of yesterday. Even so I thoroughly enjoyed this book. For me one downside was too much description of surfing but the main gripe is NO photos. The author states several times he took photos and these would enhanced the book no end.