Windsurfing is the last sh....! I spent the whole of Maundy Thursday rushing around at home, postponing appointments, doing Easter shopping and working. In the evening, the bus was frantically packed before I set off on the lonely motorway to Denmark with a medically questionable dose of coffee - this time alone, unfortunately, because all the potential passengers were either ill or had long since headed south. Estimated time of arrival: 0:45 am.
After a cold night with too little sleep (yes, the coffee), the alarm clock rings me out of my delirium at 7.00 am. The bus is already shaking quite a bit in the gusts, so I get into my clothes and off to the spot check. In Agger, not far north of Thyboron, "spot check" is synonymous with a 700 metre walk through the dunes. And here I am, at what is proven to be the wildest wave spot in Denmark, looking out over the North Sea - which is as flat as a pancake. The highest wave is barely ankle-high.
As I walk back to the car park, frustrated, a surfer from Hamburg comes towards me: "Well, is it still as flat as it was at 6.00 am?"he wants to know. Obviously I wasn't the first to check the spot. He also can't understand why the advertised waves aren't arriving. I hole up in the bus to make a coffee. And check the weather update. The wind is supposed to be at its strongest in the morning and slowly decrease towards midday. That's the bad news. I'm only encouraged by the fact that the forecast also promises that the waves will turn slightly more westerly. And the fact that a few other water sports enthusiasts are also turning up in Agger makes me abandon my idea of trying another spot for the time being. I repeat my march to the water every hour at 8.00 am and 9.00 am - but the North Sea remains flat and so at 9.00 am I already have four kilometres in my legs, three coffees in my stomach but not a surfed metre in my arms. Again, I find myself checking the forecast for other spots. At 9.30 a.m., I peer over the dune again and this time I can see that the first lines are forming over the offshore sandbank. They don't break yet, but I decide to set up the 5.0 and at least give it a go with the big board.
20 minutes later I'm on the water and riding the first round hill. Ten minutes later, I'm already able to carve out some great turns in the chest-high beach break and somehow the 5.0 is already quite big. Another 30 minutes later, I'm frantically running back towards the car park to get the small stuff - because Agger is suddenly firing from all cylinders!
On the way back, I meet Dominik Roeckl and his girlfriend Steffi Wahl, who is limping towards me. Eight weeks ago, she damaged her ankle while surfing in Hanstholm and unfortunately can't get back on the water yet. Anyone who knows Steffi knows how much it must hurt to watch her, but she quickly grabs her camera and captures the day on film. When I'm back on the water after the fourth running session with a small board, I can hardly believe how fast Agger has just mutated: logo-high sets roll in and break cleanly to leeward. As always, the shore break takes no prisoners, but the turns here can be pulled off like a hot knife through butter - the waves are as smooth as glass, the wind blows a touch offshore and even allows aerials. The fact that the sun is now shining from a blue sky is the icing on the cake on this day, which - if you ignore the bonnets - feels more like a good day in South Africa or Chile.
Four hours later, I'm crawling on my gums to the car park. On the way, I had to put the equipment down three times because of cramping forearms. Now I quickly make a coffee and head home. Windsurfing is the best sport in the world!
