Twenty years as editor-in-chief of the Dutch magazine Motion Windsurf, I have written countless texts about the frontloop. Stories about overcoming fears, commitment, believing in yourself and even happy endings. But something was bothering me. Every time I wrote a motivational text like "Anyone can do it, you just have to do it!", it felt a bit hypocritical: Because I wasn't looping at all (anymore). And that was about to change this year. It was time to unravel the secret of the front loop.
Love-hate relationship with the front loop
My personal love-hate relationship with front loops began back in the summer of 1999, when I was a surf instructor in Turkey and saw real loops up close for the first time. Jumped by my boss Jörg, a burly gentleman in his thirties who occasionally jumped into his XL wetsuit to put on a little show. The man was anything but fit, had to rest while climbing stairs, but jumped one clean loop after another on the water. Of course, I couldn't keep up, and after much deliberation and lots of questions to Jörg (Which board is best to use? Does it work with every sail? What happens if you don't turn? When exactly should I sheet in?) I finally decided to get going. I headed out towards the horizon, and when I'd plucked up enough courage (I was now over a kilometre off the coast), I finally set off on my first attempt. Stiff with adrenaline, I threw myself forwards before I had even jumped off. Needless to say, it really wrecked me, and although the pain wasn't actually that bad, I immediately gave up on the front loop - what a shame.
Frontloop tutorials with Florian Jung
Six years later
It wasn't until 2005, when I had overcome my fear, that I really got going again for the first time. In Jericoacoara, Brazil, the wind from the right finally got me going. I still didn't land cleanly, but the magic of rotation was broken - or so I thought. Unfortunately, a dozen crashes in Cape Town, with wind from the left, pushed my desire to loop back into the background. Goodbye bravery, welcome back fear.
It wasn't that I never tried again. A few years later, I gave it my all for a day in Tenerife, but looking back, I was mostly just doing rubbish technically. Paralysed by fear, I switched off my brain, closed my eyes and threw myself forward. The descents were not without their challenges and I crawled back into my shell.
Over the last ten years, I've always done an "apology front loop" when I've been in the right mood for a moment. However, these were merely half-baked attempts. Along the lines of: Look, I still have the guts. But now let's quickly ride the waves again. Not the right technique, no analysis and not enough practice.
Loopscham
That's not a problem, you might say, but somehow the situation annoyed me. And so, over the years, my fear of the loop turned into "loop shame".
Editor Marcelino Lopez described this very aptly in our loop diary from 2006: "The fear of the front loop is completely justified for the majority of surfers, but if you are a good waver yourself and the majority of your friends and acquaintances are hardcore windsurfers who do doubles without any problems, it's a different story."
How did it come to this? I can compile a long list here: four shoulder operations, my age, the fear of injury. Sentences like: "I'm just not a great jumper." Or: "I just prefer riding the waves." All true, but basically it's actually quite simple: I'm scared, I'm afraid of falling flat on my face. Literally, but perhaps also figuratively. And so I carried on windsurfing. A jump here and there, riding the waves and jumping out through the surf - without rotations.
The right incentive
When I was working on the first part of my article "The secret of the front loop", it was a secret that I didn't know myself. While I started writing the article, I really felt the desire to learn the frontloop for the first time in a long time. I had the feeling that this could be a turning point in my windsurfing life. I wanted to give it my all once again to overcome my fear of the loop.
What I needed was a real incentive. A promise that I had to keep. And what do you do in such a case as editor-in-chief of a windsurfing magazine? Exactly, you plan an article based on a self-experiment. A follow-up story to my loop diary from 2006, in which I have to face my fears - and I'd be really embarrassed if I didn't manage it. I wrote a message to Flo Jung and it was arranged: "Come to my wave camp in Klitmøller at the end of September and you're guaranteed to jump a front loop," said coach Flo. All right, let's go!
Preparations
In preparation for my loop trip, I decide to do everything I can to be as fit as possible at the start. On Instagram, I came across an advert from "Flipping Art": two guys who guarantee to teach you the front and back flip within 30 days (or your money back!). I thought a little more body awareness in the air wouldn't hurt. I also booked an online training session with professional windsurfer Sarah Hauser from Maui. Not only is she tough as nails in the waves, she's also the fitness trainer of world champion Marcilio Browne and the inventor of the "Solid Shoulders" course - just what I need.
To add even more pressure to my mission, I also tell everyone who will listen that I'm going to Denmark to do the front loop. And last but not least, I borrowed two brand new Duotone boards and a whole set of North Sails for the self-experiment. Now there's no going back.
Reality check
But then reality catches up with me: a knee that isn't really playing ball, a shoulder that is starting to bother me again and a slight flu that is keeping me away from the water. So after a busy month at the office and two weeks off training, I'm back to square one. Making resolutions is not difficult, but putting them into practice is another story.
Luckily, at the last minute before my departure, I receive a small parcel with additional motivation in the form of a brand new helmet and impact protection waistcoat. With the helmet on my head, I look at myself in the mirror: "You're just going to do it, mate! Fit or not, you can do it!" I laugh at my Calimero face under the bright green eggshell. I'm just going to do it, aren't I?
Day 1: Business Time
We meet in a typical Danish house in Klitmøller. The group consists of six people, most of whom state that they want to use the week primarily to gain more experience on the open sea and in the surf. At first glance, no real sparring partners, until dentist Holger (44) casually states that in addition to learning how to gently jibe between the waves, he also wants to try out the front loop. In my head, these two things don't go well together, but why not? Maybe that's exactly how you approach the front loop: without hesitation and expectations.
We head for Hanstholm. The wind is slowly picking up, but the direction is still not ideal. There are hardly any waves to jump. Coach Flo Jung gives me two tasks: the "front loop off the board" and a Wymaroo variant, where you steer the board far downwind with the foot straps without jumping and then close the sail. I grab my 95-litre Trifin and a 5.8 sail, put on my impact protection waistcoat and put on my helmet. Time for business!
After a brief pep talk, I set off. My first stroke out. Lars Bubelach, 19-year-old wave talent and Flo's assistant, is going to demonstrate it again on the water. That's great, because I'm a bit scared that I'm going to smash the nose of the brand new board with the mast.
Motivation boost
"That's not going to happen," says Lars and jumps a normal front loop instead of an off-the-board. Is he doing it to annoy me or does he just not understand my German? I don't know, but it works. I'm motivated.
It's more strenuous than I thought, but I can't stop and I'm getting better and better.
So, stretch out your front arm, grab the boom far back with your back hand, jump off, head back and pull tight. Bam! I fly through the air, sometimes stretched out too much, then compact again. The impact protection waistcoat fulfils its purpose when I land on my back. It's more strenuous than I thought, but I can't stop and I'm getting better and better. The Wymaroos are also working quite well. The movements help me to get a feel for the loop movement.
It's actually a good thing that the wind isn't blowing so strongly yet. In contrast to my "apology loops", I want to proceed exactly according to plan this week. That way, I hope to avoid crashing again uncontrollably and giving up disillusioned. Or even worse: destroying myself. I can already tell that I'm looking forward to real wind and waves. A storm is forecast in three days and I can hardly wait. I'm starting to believe it.
Back in the house, I notice the first blister on my hands - good job.
Day 2: Half the battle
I wake up broken. The muscle pain from the many hard impacts yesterday hangs over my whole body like a blanket of tiredness. But at the same time, I'm maximally motivated to keep going, alternating with - to be honest - the desire to have it all behind me. But as Flo says at our daily briefing: "The setbacks are just as much a part of a true sense of achievement as the success itself." It won't be the last time he shows his philosophical side.
After a short yoga session, we watch the videos from the previous day together. As well as realising that I can stretch my forearm even more and should grip the boom much wider, I also realise that I make a very grim face during most attempts - terrible.
Flo lets me know that a front loop is not actually a 360-degree turn. At least not if you drop significantly before the jump. Use this to your advantage, he seems to be telling me. He also comes up with the following magic formula: Jump off, count to one while stretching, then sheet in and make yourself small while looking backwards over your shoulder and opening your hips. I think that's quite a lot of steps to memorise, especially when I'm approaching an unpredictable jump ramp in the form of a wave at top speed. On the way to the spot in Agger, which is half an hour's drive south of Klitmøller, I play the film I want in my head. The journey there takes me through Thy National Park and has an almost meditative effect on me. I slowly fall into a trance for the next step.
It should be fun
When we arrive in Agger, we see some very nice waves outside, which fall onto the pebble beach in front of us in the form of a massive shorebreak. The wind is blowing strongly. That's good, because a smaller sail rotates faster. Before I go out on the water, Flo goes through the game plan for today's session with me: "Firstly, try to get a good feel for the conditions. Ride a wave, do a normal jump. As soon as you're warmed up, just give it a go. Try to be playful with it, just like a child would. It should be fun, why else would you do it?"
He suggests that he rides along, jumps a front loop and that I do a small jump on the same wave. I realise that a small jump is almost too little for me at this stage, I've tinkered around enough and would rather get over the threshold directly and rotate. After several almost-attempts, in which I had already placed my back hand on the boom far back, but then pushed it back again just before the wave and thus cancelled it, I finally give it a go. But it's a desperate attempt because I don't really rotate and fall from the sky like a dead bird. I endure the pain with a smile on my face, because the gate has now been opened for today's loop session.
Did I just almost do a front loop?
I try again on the next stroke. I jump over a small wave, close my eyes and pull the boom towards me. It takes ages before I hit it - zufff - I can feel the acceleration in my stomach. My feet have slipped out of the foot straps, but I've managed a full rotation - albeit without a board! Did I almost do a front loop?
Flo surfs enthusiastically alongside. "That was one!" he cheers. I can't suppress a short scream and quickly make a water start. I've acquired a taste for it and make four more attempts. I don't turn as far as I just did, but as Flo says: "That was half the battle!" Now it's time for the second half.
Day 3: Have to versus want to
Today, my front loop mission already feels more like a need than a desire. We stop off in Vorupør on the way to Agger. A glance over the dunes reveals a huge bay with clean, shoulder-high waves rolling in. The light wind makes it perfect for a handful of surfers. I'd also like to lie down on a board, not jump today and not get hit in the face all the time.
The wind is also rather weak in Agger today. The waves, on the other hand, are occasionally as high as a mast. I grab the same set-up as yesterday, screw a GoPro to the boom and throw myself into the duel with the shorebreak. When I finally make it out through the shorebreak after five minutes, I realise how tired I am. I catch a wave, get washed into the shore break and lose my sail and board. Back on the beach, I'm panting. Less than ten minutes on the water and I'm completely exhausted.
A little later, the wind picks up. I pull myself together and brave the shorebreak again in search of a ramp (and courage) for a fat front loop. After a fruitless stretch, halfway to Scotland, I find a logo-high wave on the way back, which is nice to ride, and hit a full cutback on the lip of the wave. I fly down with foam around my ears. I narrowly manage to escape the white water and not get washed. I have to laugh out loud! I may not be going forwards at the moment, but the adrenalin level is at least as high.
My body doesn't do what my head tells it to do
In gusty winds, I finally make three front loop attempts, but today it just won't work. My head is spinning from all the tutorials and advice. My body isn't doing what my head is telling it to do. I try to see the positive aspects of this session. I've beaten myself again. And this one wave ride was really nice.
The board and sail revolve around you, not the other way round."
The predicted 30 knot wind and four metre high waves have now been postponed until the end of the week. For the next two days, Windguru shimmers turquoise and light green - that means no wind, which I secretly like. The following quieter days are spent working on the computer and watching tutorials. We also check our own videos. A closer look at my previous attempts shows me that I have a technique that would be very suitable for delayed front loops. But not so much for 50 centimetre high spin loops over small waves. Flo advises me to close up earlier and stay more above my board, just like with a normal chop-hop. "You have to be the centre of attention, the board and sail rotate around you, not the other way around." When I say that's easier said than done, he just laughs: "Try to turn your frustration into pleasure. Keep at it and take a playful approach."
Day 4: One step back
Stay loose, stay loose, take it easy, I repeat in my head, while far outside the reef of Klitmøller I once again don't have the courage to pull the trigger. Eventually I manage to get over myself and start a series of attempts, ranging from spontaneously jumping off and letting go of the sail to bouncing sideways, flat on my face. Once I rotate a little further round and don't kiss the water within a second, but most of it is blows to the face - I'm glad I'm wearing a helmet. I regularly curse myself, windsurfing, the conditions, my weak mindedness when I get to the perfect ramp but don't pull the trigger.
Flo notices my frustration. He then shows me a video of an attempt in which I throw my whole body into the wind after the jump, get close but then crash. "You've been doing it wrong in some way the whole time," Flo says, "now do it wrong in a different way." If you always fall inwards, now you fall outwards. That's also progress!"
Wild grimaces
I tell him that the mantra from a few days ago, with all the individual steps, is just too much for me to concentrate on the essentials. And that's the brief "fuck it moment" that I have to really get into the front loop. With so many instructions, I always get a short circuit just beforehand. So Flo advises me to take a step back and concentrate only on the active sheet in. A few attempts later, I actually rotate properly again for the first time. Yess!
In between, I think about the story I have planned and have to write. Time is pressing and the pressure is mounting: Are my attempts good enough? Do we have enough photos? A bad result is also a story, I reassure myself, but failure would definitely scratch my ego. When I look at the videos of the day at home, I almost choke on my beer. I make faces that I didn't even know I could make. I see some kind of wild version of myself, pulling like crazy on the boom and flying through the air in genuine despair (or anticipation of death). Photogenic is different, but laughing at the photos in the evening takes some of the tension out of the whole affair. Am I approaching the whole thing too frantically?
Day 5: Attrition
After a morning of video analysis and self-reflection (setting small goals, putting pride aside, not being perfectionists), we prepare for an evening session in Hanstholm. The forecast is spot on. Around half past five, the wind shifts to the west and increases to around 20 knots. Perfect. I head out with a GoPro on the mast and one on the boom. If this were a film, there would now be a montage of the best moments of this special session. Something like this: uplifting music, super slow motion with drops of water falling from the helmet. Zoom on the face. Determination, doggedness. The tension builds. Attempt one: one-handed, one-footed. Unintentionally radical, sensational crash. Attempt two: the will is there, but the coordination is lacking, premature release - splash! Smiling faces, helmet scan, everything okay. Then, far out at sea, a steep, slightly too high wave. He throws off his fear and flies higher than ever before, counts to one and pulls up close behind. Boom - he flies! The audience holds its breath. The technique of the delayed front loop was finally applied at altitude. But he falls. If he had pulled up uncompromisingly at that moment, he could have made it to the World Cup. Intense gaze, slightly curled corners of his mouth. Cut.
With my ear ringing, I make half a dozen more attempts before it gets dark. The fear begins to subside.
Day 6: Mission accomplished?
It's the last day of the wave camp and despite all the pats on the back, I still feel like I haven't reached my destination. Fortunately, the storm that has been plaguing us for a week in the forecast has finally arrived: we're off to Middles, with logo-high breakers and gusts of up to 30 knots. Small waves break in front, perfect for looping, I grab a 3.7 and my 81-litre quad. The motto of the day: it's now or never!
Lars' camera gives me extra motivation, and although I'm pretty overpowered, I have the feeling that this is the moment. The tiny sail gives me confidence, and at the second wave I encounter, I jump off and catch up. My back foot slips out of the foot strap and I go down ingloriously. Attempt two follows a minute later and is not much better. When I lose my entire board a little later and my crewless equipment does a front loop, I head in to tighten my foot straps a little. I tell myself once again: You can do it - it's now or never!
Wide grip, the mind at zero
I slide over the rocks back into the water and get going. Wide grip, mind at zero. On an already broken white water wave - it's nothing more than a swirling head of foam - I launch myself into the air. I pull as hard as I can and try as best I can to look back over my shoulder. I get an extra boost and climb even higher. The expected crash doesn't materialise, I rotate completely and land relatively cleanly on my back.
Wow, I think it was him! It feels like scoring a penalty in injury time. I have to grin broadly. Even though there is still a lot to criticise about this front loop: I turned cleanly and was able to continue from the water start position in both foot straps - that was it!
If you really want it, the front loop is also within your reach!
Back on the beach, Flo is also clear in his assessment. "This one counts, you've reached your goal!" confirms Flo. I take off my helmet, take off my impact waistcoat and am literally liberated. There are many areas for improvement and a hundred things that need to be improved, but I have overcome my fear. In conclusion, I can say with full conviction that if you really want it, the front loop is within your reach. Anyone can do it, you just have to want it.
Frontloop tutorials with Florian Jung
