“Swim! Swim hard or you might die today”, I thought and felt that familiar feeling squeezing my chest. Fear. The edge of panic. “Don’t you dare panic, just swim” - the air was minus one and water around four but I felt surprisingly warm. And when I saw how fast the current was taking me towards open sea I was basically steaming. I saw the lighthouse that signalled the end of the land. It was getting closer and closer. “Don’t look, just swim”…
24 hours earlier
I had just come home from a super fun trip to Western Australia a few days before. The plan was to spend Christmas with the family and chill before the preparations to the next slalom season start. But when a forecast like that pops up, you might have to alter a little bit. It was all shades of red and purple for the time between Christmas and New Years. A little gift from Poseidon. The Baltic is basically a big lake, so to get four meter waves with a 10-11 seconds period it takes a hell of a storm. The kind they warn you not to leave the house and expect power outages. And cold. 4-5 degrees the first day and only colder from there. Without thinking much I went to the usual spot, and to be super honest it wasn’t very fun. I can’t remember the last time I chicken jibed so much. Walls of mast high whitewater, 5-6 knots of current… we call it "connoisseur conditions".
But then the most exciting moment of the day happened. Not while windsurfing. While scrolling. My friend Krzysztof from Baltic Surf Scapes, who’s the best known surf photographer in the area and whom I just said hi to in in the car park a few hours prior, posted this perfect barreling left-hander. It looked like Skeleton Bay. Surfline reposted, Kelly Slater commented, Nic von Rupp asked if he can come on the next forecast.. it was blowing up. And looking at the video all I could think of was: “It’s looking kinda windy!”. There was only one place that this could possibly be and I had chills even thinking of the idea of a winter session there.
A perfect wave with barrels - in Poland!
I windsurfed that spot in the past with different wind directions and the current was always super intense. It’s basically the only place where it could be side-off with this wind direction and the only place the waves hit the coast after over 300 kilometres. I called up Krzysztof to confirm it was the same spot, and told him I reckon it looked possible to windsurf on his video. He got pretty excited as there was absolutely no chance somebody would surf it without jetski assistance, so at least maybe the wave would see some action windsurfing. We agreed we will go with no pressure and if it’s doable we’ll see what we can get.
The swell was supposed to hit in the afternoon so we took our time. I got there first. I could barely hold my van on the road due to the gusts and the lack of winter tires didnt improve my sense of safety. The car was showing -1 degrees and it was snowing pretty hard, so I thought to myself: “There must be something seriously wrong with me”. But when I parked up and walked past the snow-covered dune I completely changed my tune. I could not believe what I was seeing! Don’t get me wrong, Poland has fun spots. Beach brake skateparks, fun jumping and the occasional hour of side shore waveriding where the waves are still getting pushed by the onshore outside, but it’s side-side off inside. But this? This was a totally different story. I climbed the dune to see more and I stood there mesmerised. As far as I could see up the coast the wave was a perfect barrelling, peeling lefthander. I counted the amount of times the barrel spat on one wave. I got to 6. “This must be a 30 second barrel” I told myself and got my phone out to film one. My hand froze by the end of the video.. it was 65 seconds long! And it wasn’t just one wave. It was one after another. Set after set after set. And it looked significantly bigger than the previous day. Head- to logo high was my guess but it looked really square, super powerful.
The current is pulling mercilessly towards Russia
The coast curves pretty hard so I was going to walk about 500 meters upwind where the wind was more sideshore, albeit still with an offshore element, try to get out and catch a wave there and ride it to where we parked, where it was dead off. Krzysztof appeared in the meantime and I said to him: “See those sticks stuck vertically in the beach? This is my cutoff point, I dont want go anywhere past those. If I do, watch closely, cause I might be in trouble and you might have to call SAR”. From there it’s a bit more then a kilometre to the very last tip of land - the next land downwind? 20 nautical miles. And if the wind shifts a few degrees? There’s this Russian exclave jammed in between Poland and Lithuania with a massive military base strategic to the Baltic. You wouldn’t want to end up there on a nice summer day in 2019. Now? You don’t want to be anywhere near that hellhole.
You wouldn’t want to end up there on a nice summer day in 2019. Now? You don’t want to be anywhere near that hellhole."
Accompanied by those thoughts I walked back to the car and rigged up. I also remembered my last solo session in epic conditions and big currents. I broke a mast on one of Maui’s outer reefs on a mast-and-a-half to double mast day, got seperated from my board, chased it for 45 minutes in a river of current and paddled for over an hour way after dark. That day I told myself I will never windsurf anything of consequence alone again. And here I was about to do it, only in sub zero weather. I put my cellphone in my wetsuit as if that was gonna be of help in the middle of the sea.
A small car fits into the tube
Dragging my gear up the beach I started looking at the situation more realistically. To even get out I will need a gust and no set at the same time. I took the 101 litre so I can float, but with my usual 95kg, all the winter gear, the Christmas feeding frenzy and Baltic being the least saline sea in the world I had my doubts it would stay afloat. There was only one way to find out! I planed right of the beach, but the second I got to the first braking wave I stopped and sank the 101 right down. It wasn’t a lull, it was just a river of current. The chest high reform hit me and broke my extension. It was either mega powerful or the aluminium was easier to brake in sub zero - probably both. I couldn’t believe I was gonna have to run all the way back down the beach to the van. But when I turned the gear around to try to water start I realised I was already at the entrance and approaching the “safety sticks”. I sailed for a little over a minute and managed to drift almost 500 meters!
I grabbed the new extensions wasting more precious minutes and proceeded to walk even further up the beach this time, around a kilometre. Try on a gust, get pounded, walk back up the beach. Try when there’s no set, get pounded, walk back up the beach. I did that 4 or 5 times, which meant another 40-50 minutes used up. The sun was to set at 3.20pm but because of full overcast it would probably get dark before. Finally the stars aligned and I made it past the first inside river of current on a massive gust. Then just as I was about to eat shit again, another gust came and I just made it over a solid logo to mast high set. It was way bigger then it looked from the beach and when I looked up the point and into the barrel I swear you could fit a small car inside! It was absolutely square! I was so happy I made it out I actually hooted at myself. Step one done, now try to get a wave.
All or nothing
I tacked and looked where I was in relation to the beach. The answer was about half way between where I launched and the sticks I promised myself I wouldnt go past. So I drifted about 500 meters just getting out of the shorebreak. The wind was so iffy that it felt like I would only get one shot at it. If I rode a wave I probably wasnt getting back out unless I walked the beach again. I saw a dark cloud and a wind line approaching so it seemed like a good idea to try to get planning and go upwind on it. It hit so hard I catapulted and hardly got up. It was snowing horizontally and about 35-40 knots, I felt like my 4.7 was about to fold in half. But at least it seemed I was making ground up the coast towards where I wanted to start riding the wave. But the further up I was getting the more side shore the wind was, so effectively I was getting further away from the beach, which seemed kinda undesired. So I jibed and pointing as high as I could started heading towards the break. I should try to pick a wave far outside but they all seemed hip high at best and outside, plus when you’re planning you tend to feel pretty safe. So I sailed in and as I was approaching the break I realised one of those hip high rollers was right underneath me. It wasnt pushing much, so I stepped on the gas slalom style, but as I was approaching the shore the wind got more and more offshore and somehow instead of feeling stronger due to the apparent wind given by the power of the wave pushing me, felt lighter and lighter.
I was trying to keep up with this round little super fast thing, knowing that at one point the bottom will fall out and a wall will present itself. If I could just stay on it. But I couldn’t. I fell out the back before the wave stood up. Shame, but it happens. Mostly in big waves like Jaws, not in the Baltic, but it happens. “Gonna have to just do it like a surfer and catch it as its about to break”. Just as I thought that the snow stopped and with it the wind dropped to zero. I fell on my back, tried to water start, no way. Tried to water start grabbing the foot of the sail and the mast below the boom which saved me a bunch of times - no chance. I stood on the board and uphauled the sail by the mast, but sank the hundred litre right down and didnt move an inch. “Trouble”, I thought and made the mistake of looking at the beach. I was just passing the sticks! The current outside of the break seemed just as strong as inside! Not good.
From the dream session to survival mode
The mood quickly switched from “try to get the best ride of your life” to “try to stay alive”. I knew I had about a kilometre of beach before oblivion. I just had to swim into the break and get pounded to the beach. I needed a big set to brake outside and take me as far in as possible. And all of a sudden.. it was flat! “Swim! Swim hard or you actually might die today” - I thought and felt that familiar feeling squeezing my chest. Fear. The edge of panic. “Don’t you dare panic, just swim” - the air was minus one and water around four degrees, but I felt surprisingly warm. And when I saw how fast the current was taking me towards open sea, I was basically steaming. I saw the lighthouse that signalled the end of the land. It was getting closer and closer. “Don’t look, just swim”.
I've surfed in Jaws, I've raced on a razor-sharp foil with seven other guys with no control, but I've never been so scared."
One hand holding the strap, the other 3 limbs just thrusting away. I was actually pretty close to the land and maybe only 50 meters from where the little reform was breaking. I could see the whitewater, but I could also see how fast I’m going with the current. Couple people were walking down the beach and even if they ran they would be slower then me. I’ve thrown myself off a 200 meter bridge, I’ve sailed Jaws, I went down the first reach on a razor sharp foil at 30+ knots with seven other out-of-control people, but I’ve never been this scared.
Relief, disappointment and disbelief
Couple more strokes, a few more... And then, all of a sudden, a little reform broke onto my head and I touched the sand with my foot. There was no way I could stand in all the current, but I knew I was probably safe. I climbed onto the beach on all four and had a look where I was. The last beach entrance is 400meters from the tip and I was slightly past it. Another minute in that river and I would have been out in the open sea. It was 20 minutes until sunset and the ships out in the distance had already switched on their lights. Even if the wind was slowly coming back, it was already irresponsible what I did, let alone to try again. So that was it. A mix of relief, disappointment and disbelief started setting in.
I will come back. And I will ride this wave. I promise you that!"
Driving back home I couldn’t shake off a weird feeling. It was this fear squeezing my chest which normally gives way to a sense of accomplishment, satisfaction when you push your limits but find something rewarding on the other side. I realised it was the first time that I didn't get that. I failed. Had I been there earlier, or been a little smarter, positioned myself a little better, I could’ve rode the best waves this country has ever seen. Instead I came up empty handed. I voice messaged Krzysztof saying “Sorry we didn't get anything today, it was totally doable, I just fucked up, I feel like an idiot, I got this real physical PTSD-type feeling in my chest now since we don’t know if this will ever happen again”. He replied “I would’ve had more then PTSD if you’d still be floating out in the sea somewhere! Consider today a success!” Of course he was right but my mind just wouldn’t accept it. Going to sleep still angry and disappointed with myself I promised myself I will be back. I don't care how long I will have to wait for another forecast like that or how cold it will be. I will be back. And I will ride that thing. I promise.
