Sat 31 Jan 2009
The air temperature takes a vicious plunge below freezing as I exit Halifax airport. I’m in Nova Scotia to do research for a book on cold-water surfing, and to talk to the pioneers who, armed only with worn-out diving suits and boards imported from the altogether sunnier climes of California, took to these waters back in the early 1960s. This is an environment where icebergs occasionally drift through the line-up, so I am expecting a truly hardcore bunch of surfers.
They don’t disappoint. "OK, so what’s this book about again?" Standing over 6ft tall, as broad as a prop forward, Rob is a bear of a man. Arms crossed, he rests his boot on the bumper of his equally huge Dodge pick-up. The hammer in his weathered carpenter’s belt sags to the left, giving him the appearance of a gnarled gunslinger. I puff my chest out, trying to make myself appear as large as possible. This was the advice I’d been given in case I ever found myself confronted by a grizzly.
Rob is one of the guardians of the secret breaks on Nova Scotia’s Eastern Shore. Getting guys like Rob on board is not only essential to telling the story of this hardened community, it is the key to actually getting out there and back in one piece.
I’ve been forewarned by other locals that I need to tread carefully. One of the region’s top surfers nonchalantly sums up the risks of trying to chase down waves at one of the localised points: "It’s a really friendly place here, and Canadian people are really friendly in general, but there has been some stuff that has gone on here with people going to spots that some people think they shouldn’t go, and vehicles getting torched and tyres slashed and windows smashed, and violence and fights and things like that."
I make my pitch to Rob. "Mmmm." He pauses for a moment. "OK, come inside, I’ll introduce you to a couple of people."
Footprint’s ‘Surfing the World’ is now available. ‘Cold Water Souls’ will be published in October
By Chris Nelson