The Lair of the Naz…
An hour and a half or so as the rental car flies from Lisbon lies the sleepy town of Nazaré. A joint few outside of central Portugal had heard of until 2011.
It’s a fishing town at heart and they still dry sardines, mackerel and cod for bacalhau on the beach as they have for centuries. The older ladies wear traditional skirts with seven layers, folklore reckons they counted the waves in sets and at seven they’d wave the menfolk in to try and land their wooden rowing boats on the beach. The harbour, home to the ski crews, is a modern conceit built at the south end of the town. Braving the wild ocean in pursuit of valuable fish in wooden rowing boats is one of those things that sounds fun until you see the size of the shorey. For centuries this was Nazaré. It then stumbled into the modern era as a beach holiday town; understandable as the beaches are gorgeous.
It’s now, thank initially to Garrett McNamara who unleashed the beast to the world late in 2011, an annual scene of big wave lunacy. Whilst G-Mac first went in 2010 it was 2011 that saw the first huge session that saw the world’s collective ears prick up. He’s on record as saying he initially went because a local sent him a photo with a note saying ‘please come ride our big waves’. Sure it’s not like no one surfed it, but the locals didn’t surf it over ten foot. Mainly because the paddle out is redonkulously heavy at size.
Even though it’s been firmly lodged in our collective consciousness for a few years and the British involvement with Andrew Cotton and later Tom Butler is well documented this was my first visit. It’s a tricky one to justify budget for magazine wise as when it gets really big photos and video of all the widow-maker sets are online minutes after the foams settled. Which makes the exclusiveness we need for the mag a tricky one. The other argument is why spend the money on flights, cars and hotels when we can just buy shots from the local crew. But this trip was different, it was going to be big but not DEFCON 1 conditions, so we were okay. Much as it’s fascinating when it’s monsters breaking way outside of the famous lighthouse it’s the smaller big days, if that makes any sense, that are feistier. More bowly and hollower. The fact that the Naza beast is a beachbreak is something you need to constantly remind yourself. It’s a wedgey beachy. Just like Hossegor. Just turned up to eleven. The deep offshore canyon refracts a wedge in much like the Hossegor canyon does at Graviere. It’s just a way bigger playing field and handles as much swell as the Atlantic can spew its way.
The first time you come down the promontory, the high headland that spears the Atlantic between two long stretches of sand, the scale of the set up becomes apparent. It’s massive. When we were there the surf was fifteen foot perhaps and breaking more like a shorebreak. My mind can’t handle thinking about what it is like when it’s proper behemoth mood. As Cotty pointed out you surf straight towards the end of the headland, towards the lighthouse with it’s vicious smashed teeth array of rocks lining the bottom of the cliff when it is truly big. The session we got to witness wasn’t anywhere near the end of the headland. Let alone breaking out past it.
My respect for the crews that surf it has always been high. Even when internet warriors have decried it as ‘fat’. A crumbling sixty foot wave is still a sixty foot wave. And no keyboard ninja would survive being mowed down by one. Let alone attempt to surf one. Just watch Sancho’s wipeout from last winter and see if you think it’s ‘soft’.
The level Cotty, Garrett and crew work at now, with safety skis, spotters, comms, not to mention their fitness and ski-handling skills, is phenomenal. Kohl Christensen had popped over a for a few days while we were there, as had Brad Domke, they were both blown away. Kohl reckoned it was the best place to learn to drive a ski running rescue. As, ‘If you can drive a ski here you can drive a ski anywhere.’ There’s no channel. It’s heavy as hell. Once on the inside you’re in a foamy world of double-ups and eight foot walls of whitewater as you dance around the inside in thigh deep water looking for an exit. Finding a vein as Garret calls it.
The scene has developed from G-Mac, Cotty and a small local crew to being truly international. Maya and Carlos Burle were there also when we were there, Red Bull keeps a unit with skis ready to parachute in RCJ, Mathews and co. Each year more knights come to poke the dragon. Various Hawaiians, Mexicans, Chileans, Germans and assorted others are dipping their toes in the angry waters.
I’m glad I’ve finally been. I understand the mechanics of the beast now. I’ve seen how heavy it is, even a ‘small’ wipeout on a ten-foot fun one leads to a 13-second hold down, and that is with a vest. The result of stuffing it on a sixty footer is something my lungs protest even thinking about.
The biggest waves ever surfed are going to be surfed there. A mere few hours away from us by budget airline. The biggest wave in the world in Portugal and the angriest at Mullaghmore in Ireland. The big wave scene in Europe is now legit. Where it goes from here is going to be fascinating to watch.