This applies even more so to the region to the north once known as Cantre’r Gwaelod (the Lowland Hundred), despite the fact that both areas can be reached in little more time than it takes to get to Cornwall (this obviously depends on where you live, but since London generally regards itself as the focal point of the known universe let’s use that as the reference point).

Yet people were riding waves in west Wales only three or four years after surfing was ‘introduced’ to Cornwall and North Devon, and photos exist of members of Whitesands-based Porthmawr Surf Life Saving Club taken in the early sixties, when the club was based in an old railway carriage; huge old planks are visible in the picture, no doubt owned by members of the club.

“People were riding waves in west Wales only three or four years after surfing was ‘introduced’ to Cornwall and North Devon…”

I was shown this image some years ago by one of the club founders, Dr. George Middleton of St. David’s. Now in his nineties and still getting into the surf occasionally on an old belly board, George’s children and grandchildren are also surfers and like most locals – indeed, like most surfers anywhere – they’ve made it their business to get out and explore the world’s waves everywhere from Indo to Costa Rica before returning home to snag a few at their local breaks.

That’s not to say you’ll only ever be surfing here with a couple of mates and an inquisitive seal. You can’t keep much secret these days thanks to internet surf reports and social media so what were ‘semi-secret’ spots in my youth certainly won’t be surfer-free zones when conditions are right, which as stated above is usually in winter.

I’m thinking of the hollow beach breaks of South Pembrokeshire and the almost mystical point breaks of Cantre’r Gwaelod; the latter in particular were once known only to the few, but are now a legitimate surf destination for wave riders from all over Wales in the right conditions. The skill lies in knowing exactly when and where the ‘right’ conditions will occur – which discretion prevents me from revealing here…

“The skill lies in knowing exactly when and where the ‘right’ conditions will occur – which discretion prevents me from revealing here…”

But other than the occasional magazine shot from Mumbles-based surf photographer and flaneur ‘The Gill’, the west of Wales gets very little surf media coverage of any sort. ‘The Surfing Tribe’, a coffee-table-style history of British surfing, is perhaps the most detailed work on the sport in our wet and windswept isles yet it provides only the most cursory of mentions of West Wales within its pages (for which we are profoundly grateful, for who wants to end up like Cornwall?).

For many of those who do know the area one of its big attractions is, no doubt, the fact that it has stayed off the radar and as such hasn’t changed that much, for there’s something quite reassuring about knowing that as you head down the long dirt track to your favourite break very little in what you’re seeing has changed in decades. As an example, I recently came across a photo of my mate Tony Kitchell walking board under arm down to a fickle right-hander in North Pembrokeshire which is breaking double overhead, if not bigger. The picture was taken on a warm, sunny day in June 1996 and nothing in that image has changed other than Tony – the rubbly lane, the overhanging vegetation either side, the dark sea cliffs, golden beach and pale blue waves peeling away in the far distance are all the same now as they were then.

“There’s something quite reassuring about knowing that as you head down the long dirt track to your favourite break very little in what you’re seeing has changed in decades…”

As I write this we’re moving into autumn and the waves are consistent – it hasn’t been flat for at least two weeks – but here comes the rub, and quite possibly the reason west Wales has for so long escaped recognition as a major surf centre.

True, but unlike most other stretches of the west coast that get surfable waves, here in west Wales if your local break is plagued by day after day of onshores you have few alternative spots where it will be offshore unless you’re prepared to drive some considerable distance.

And even when you do get to one of the rare locations that are offshore the wind will still be roaring at you like a thing possessed, making it hard to paddle into the wave and frequently holding up the face for so long that it become little more than a slow-motion close-out.

I’ve grown to detest these bloody Atlantic gales, regular as clockwork from October to April, as have many other local surfers. Yet maybe it’s those accursed tempests that actually keeps things so low key on the local surf scene. I’ve had friends visit from Australia and Costa Rica who can scarcely credit that anyone would try to surf when blasts in excess of 50mph are smashing ashore for the fifth day in a row, and having experienced it once they don’t seem in any rush to come back.

So it seems that the very wind that is, right now, clattering around the eaves of my house and will probably keep me awake tonight is a blessing in disguise if you’re a surfer in west Wales, since it may be the very thing that keeps our waves relatively crowd free. Which kind of goes to show that every cloud has a silver lining – even if that cloud is being hustled along at 50mph by a howling gale…

To read the rest of the November ‘Other’ issue head here

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