There are only so many 3km-long lefts on any given day

Craig Anderson. Photo: Timo

Lucky Some Days (LSD)

by Kite Stevens

Flying in on the eve of a massive swell, a swell of swells, and you’re sure to recognise someone on the flight. It is a small world after all, and there are only so many 3km-long lefts on any given day in the South Atlantic. And so fate would have it that an old friend, a well-known American pro surfer, happens to be seated in the very next seat…

Lucky Some Days how things just swirl together.

This is the best feeling! You’re on your way to surf one of those waves ‘you have to surf once in your lifetime’, but your buddy’s boards haven’t made the connection. It doesn’t even faze him; he’s been through it all before. They’ll show up he confirms with a grin, besides ‘you can’t change fate.’ You’re lucky to be in Namibia. You’re flying.


Surf consistency: 4  Wave variety: 3  

Climate: 2  Radness: 9  Budget: 5

Namibia was a German colony in 1884. Until, the South Africans overthrew them in 1915. Finally gaining independence from South Africa in 1990. Legend has it that the South African military guys that to used to work the lighthouse were the first to surf this gem back in late 70’s and kept it secret for all those years. Another story tells of a couple that were travelling through the Namibian desert, they had car trouble had to camp for the night, setting up camp one of them literally tripped over a million dollar diamond, or enough diamonds to go home and buy a big farm overlooking another famous sought after wave.

The airport that’s as big as a bus station is filled with an assortment of adventure weirdos that somehow all blend together. Bird watchers, big game hunters, moviemakers, stuntmen…when you think about it, they’re just like surfers. You’ve picked up your wheels, local fixer, checked in to the hotel and headed straight out to meet this wonder of the surf world. The sun was already quite low as you headed through the salt farm, a thin strip of tarmac with water on both sides, the strip seemed to disappear into the horizon, the water is pink from the salt, are you tripping? The water is fucking pink bro! There are Flamingos and Pelicans! You’re in a movie! A fucking amazing, trippy pink movie!

Got to love 4×4 in the sand! Keep it in the power range, don’t drop those rev’s and you’ll be fine! Your convoy is flying, across the flats; really fucking out there now. This really feels like the edge of the world…keeping it at 120kph for about 20 minutes you finally caught sight of other tribal members. The said swell was starting to show. The sun was about a hand off the horizon. How fast can you get into a wetsuit?

Hypnotic, mind-bending barrels that go on and on along the point. Hard as fuck to catch, 4×3+booties. Sitting on your board you can’t even see your feet; it stinks of great whites and all the others in grey suits. Massive seal colonies that surf and generally get in the way. Run back up the point into the the wind that’s trying to rip your board out from under your arm as you’re being pelted in the face by salt and sand. It’s worth it. This is absolute perfection but you can’t see it because it’s so fucking foggy. Leave your wetsuit out overnight and the jackals will eat it. The wave will break your boards, and if you’re not prepared to camp out you better make sure you get home before dark.

A pause for lunch at the top of the point, your old friend rocks up, with a borrowed board, a borrowed wetsuit a little on the small side, fighting against the stiff offshores. He might be on something, he might be… losing his mind.

“Dude… I can retire now. Seriously, that was the most incredible wave of my life. Dude. I lost count of how many times I came out of the barrel.

Dude… WHERE THE FUCK are we?”


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