The Barrel Which Never Was

... On the 30th of December a huge swell hit Ireland coming in at around the 20-30ft mark with 14 second period and we knew Mullaghmore was going to be on. With it all being a massive rush and a majorly sleep deprived crossing, coupled with a lack of budget, it meant we didn't bring a videographer. Instead we found a couple of guys watching the session and asked them to film us on my camera. As most sessions go out there, the sun normally shines on the one person who snags the bomb. Whether it was Cotty's beast in March or Gabe's drainer at the comp a few years ago, this time around it seemed it was my turn and Cotty whipped me perfectly into the best wave of my life. Eventually as the adrenaline wore off and I regained control of my limbs the question came: who's got the clip? Or what shots have you got? People amp on getting shots of themselves on a 20 footer, or a shot of themselves going over the falls, it doesn't matter. Having the clip or shot prolongs the feeling of stoke whereas your human instinct just makes you want more and more of it. I guess one way of looking at my wave and its absence from digital posterity is that in my mind I will never be able to criticise myself (or try and improve it for next time). This wave will remain pure in my memory. As I emailed around and around searching for people who may have it I began realizing sometimes, just like when we all started surfing, you don't need any of these photos or videos. To mix the old metaphor: 'If a bear shits in the woods but no-one steps on it, then did it ever exist?' Well thankfully, Tam Mullen managed to capture the last quarter of my wave with stills. Does it smart? Yes. Does it matter? Not one bit. Cheers Lyndon © 2013 orla connelly