SteveE wrote:

I'd love to sail Gwithian too.

Hayle holds a lot of sentimental value with me as I've been going every year for about 20 years. But never sailed there.

I sailed at Marazion in the summer and it opened my eyes to cornish wave potential.

I sailed Marazion once...to be honest it could have been my last sail from either the "I could of blooming died" point of view or the "well thats put me off this sport" point of view.

Can't remember the exact date but it was round 1992 - 93. Spent a week down in Cornwall and at the time there was a leg of the British Championship (its changed names so many times over the years who knows what it was then) at Marazion.

Great fun watching , great location with the pub on the beach and was a windy event. Immediately after actual competition the wind carried on honking so the sponsored boys stayed for some fun. Crippy and Julian Anderson persuaded the young, stupid me to go out as well.

3.5m (was over powered!!) and Tiga 260. Huge bloody shore dump. We had watched the pro's taking hits so there's me, no experience, waiting for the right gap to get out. Through some fluke of nature, luck, good kama, skill..yeh right, I got out unscathed.

How cocky was I

Flew out completely out of control after about 400 meters wiped out big style. No way I could hold on or handle the conditions. Seriously out of my depth. Spent the next 40 mins trying to water start to get back to the beach. Eventually ended up body dragging down wind to end up by St. Michaels Mount..

After a walk of shame back to the car park I was seriously exhausted!! By that time everyone was nice and warm getting pissed in the pub. The furture Mrs V hadn't even noticed...still wonder why I married her (honey its a joke).

Did it put me off .....hell no...too bloody stupid

Must try Marazion again one day. Hopefully things will be better next time

Half the places I want to sail are getting bans of some sort or other. Gwithian, Kimmeridge and now my local kent/sussex beaches maybe.
Have turned my attention to Pembrokshire in an attempt to outrun the fat, lethargic, tv dinner councellors. And the thin, good looking, equally irritating kiters.