"I have two weeks off at the end of May. Shall we go south together by car?" my friend asks me. "Yes, let's go to Brittany!" I reply. "It's in the west and it's not really warm yet." "Or Ireland perhaps?" No answer. Then: "I was thinking something like Italy. There's good wine, delicious food, ice cream, Florence..." "Hmmmm - and wind?" "The wind is certainly strong enough for me there," she grins at me. Bugger, now I'm in a tight spot.
Things take their course and at the end of May we cross the Alps, drive across the Po Valley after a short stop at Lake Garda and then into the heart of Tuscany. Luckily, the forecast wasn't too bad: a storm was coming and I'd cleverly brought my waveboard and small sails. As we roll through the winding mountain roads in bright sunshine and summery temperatures, there is little sign of it. The almost kitschy landscapes typical of Tuscany invite us to take cappuccino breaks or visit castles. When it gets too hot, we cool off in one of the streams and continue on our way. Towards evening we reach Livorno on the Mediterranean. The water is as smooth as glass and crystal clear. The calm before the storm. As dusk begins to fall, the deep black cloud front finally appears on the horizon and I fall asleep full of anticipation for tomorrow.
The next morning, the Mediterranean looks completely different: An onshore wind has set the sea in motion. Over the course of the morning, the wind picks up again and within a few hours a pretty official four-metre sea builds up. I try Tre Ponti first. The locals on the beach are confident, but it's far too onshore to do anything with the waves. After a short and rather disappointing session, we continue southwards. Cars keep stopping along the coastal road and people keep taking pictures of the roaring Mediterranean. Inwardly, I thank my girlfriend for bringing me here, while she is probably cursing it right now. Next, I try Vada. Here, too, the wind seems to be coming flat onshore and has picked up so much that I'm worried about being able to hold the 4.2 at all. The sea colour is also strangely white.
Before I can think about anything else, I am suddenly approached by Roberto, who has a surf school on the beach a little further north. He says that the coast bends there and advises me to give it a go. So I pull the 4.2 really flat and surf the 800 metres downwind and around the small headland into the next bay towards Lillatro. Roberto was right: it's perfect for jumping and onshore wave riding - real pozo training, only with bigger, better waves. After I arrive at the beach completely exhausted, Roberto proudly shows me his surf school. "A lot of people store their equipment with me as they usually surf here anyway," he says.
The entire travel report with these spots is available as a PDF in the download area below: