The morning sunshine beats down on the sand outside the cave entrance. My phone alarm sounds that it’s 9.30am, with the lack of call credit that’s all my phone has been good for lately. Jag wakes up and discovers some weird lumps on his head probably from his pillow of sand. The beach is deserted and all that remains are the footprints of the alien fishermen from last night.

Why the hell have we gotten up so early? Well I’ve arranged to for the three of us to take part in the Sagres International Surf School and we have to meet the organisers in an hour to be fitted out in our wetsuits and assigned our boards.

We arrive at the little office in Sagres and are greeted by the owners of the company that runs a surf school for beginner and intermediate board rider wannabes. The edge of the earth, what a place to learn how to surf. Before this the only lessons we’d had were from our surf nut mate Benny Bosangson in Torquay. The scenery here was a bit different here with shear jagged cliffs plunging into the ocean. The waves leaved a little to be desired, but I guess we were only beginners in the whole surfing thing. Unless you were a girl in a bar in Lagos, then we were taking a break from the pro circuit whilst we searched for the ultimate wave.

Today Simon was our sensei. A tanned, ripple bodied, blonde haired German surfy type, damn him! Luckily there were no girls in our age group to make fun of our flabby guts and only slightly tanned skin.

The lessons get underway with some exercises to loosen the muscles. Star jumps, neck stretches and all that sort of thing. But we’re eager to don the wetsuits and hit the waves. Simon shows us some basic techniques and before we know it we are falling off our boards left, right and backwards.

I know it sounds strange. Three good-looking, athletic boys from the coast in country Victoria and we can’t surf. Don’t get me wrong Lee manages to stand up for at least 3 seconds before bailing into the roaring 2-foot surf. Jag has only recently learnt to swim, so he’s doing quite well as Simon holds his board and guides him into a wave. They’ve given us the longest, most basic beginner boards made of foam, but as the day wears on I’m glad I didn’t convince them to give me one of those cooler shorter, faster boards.

The boards, wetties and teachings they provide at Sagres International Surf School are nothing short of awesome. We don’t mind giving them a plug as they are super friendly, professional and also gave us the day of surfing for free.
But that aside, it was a great day and is definitely worth doing if your down at this edge of the earth.

But before we knew it, the scooters were due back and the sun was setting over the cliffs. We rode all the way back to Lagos in the dark, sun burnt and with sinuses uncomfortably full of water sloshing around in our heads. The tail light on my scooter was not working which made the journey all the more hazardous and enjoyable. But as the “crazy” Portuguese drivers melodiously sounded their horns at the unlit swerving motorcycle maniac leading the Aussie precession of world navigators and surfers, I thought to myself simply, wow. What an amazing place, somewhere else is.


You may be looking at the photo and be thinking that Lee’s hair looks a little different. Well I guess we should have said something earlier, but one afternoon in Lagos two real pricks convinced Lee that a Mohawk would look cool. In a very hung over state he was badgered until an hour later, he emerged with a very rude do indeed. So apologies go out to his family for the photos in this journal.