That old pair of jeans

Article as published by Carvemag on January 17th 2022

There are gems to be found for the ones willing to seek. We hear it ever so often, but do we still really find them? I come from a country where the coastline is straight and where winds are onshore for the most part of the year. The North Sea funnels down from the North-West bringing big waves and big winds in winter and small onshore waves in summer (at best). But we do indeed have some gems and they were not too hard for me to find after all.

When I was twenty-one years old I started working for a surfschool in Zandvoort. Waves were pretty average mostly, but I loved to spend time on the beach away from the city. The summers in Holland are packed on the beach though and Zandvoort becomes a strip of sand clogged up with all the people that live in a 50 km radius of it (basically 80% of the country’s population). I needed more space and more waves.

At the same time our surfschool was expending (crowded beaches turned out to be good for something after all) and a year later I found myself on one of the Wadden Islands. The smallest one of the five that are inhabited: Vlieland. I was a mediocre surfer at best when I arrived there. I had surfed in a few countries and gained some experience. But my surfing was nothing special. On Vlieland I stuck to the good old soft top for the most part and I had heaps of fun honestly. The only people in the water outside the surf lessons were me and my colleague and the seals. Whenever there was a big swell on the charts, accompanied by favorable winds, we would grab our bicycle and ride Westward, in search of a good sandbank. This would mainly happen in the pre-season, when we were still building up the surfschool. The nights were cold and the amenities very basic. We camped from May until September. But this was living. We spend our days outside, ate peanut butter sandwiches all day and surfed whenever we could.

One day, the forecast looked promising and we were determined to get a session in. It must have been some day in May. Our surfschool is not actually on the beach, but just behind the dunes, thus you can not see the waves from the surfschool. We decided to go not too far West and dropped our bikes after a fifteen minute ride at the hotel on the beach. The sight we encountered was pretty incredible. Big waves, hollow and powerful. I was a bit scared. My friend and colleague had a bit more experience. We hyped each other up and peddled out. The current was relentless, the sets were endless. I paddled for about thirty minutes before finding myself disillusioned on the beach. I had witnessed the best waves I had ever seen though and my heart was awakened.

I traveled to far out places over the years. Spend winters abroad, surfing different waves around the world. But wherever I went, Vlieland was on my mind.

I started spending more time there, explored more of the island. I bought a waterhousing for my camera and spend a lot of time alone in the sea. It calmed me down, looking at waves break, whenever my mind was full.

The surfschool grew and the surfspot closest to the surfschool saw a steady rise in the amount of surfers. I would describe it as a longboard spot, since a sandbank a few kilometers out a sea slows the waves down a bit. The island’s coast makes a slight bend here, making for some nice lefties. If you go more West, there are shortboard options too, since there is no sandbank slowing down the waves. The beach got more crowded too over the years, but it’s still peanuts compared to the coast of Holland. A gem, Vlieland, not even hidden. I would be crazy to share it with you right, but here is the catch. The island has limited accommodation and getting there ain't so easy. The boat takes 90 minutes for the passage and there is no van life, since cars are only allowed by locals. Prices on the island are also pretty high, since a lot of wealthy Dutchies found their peace here too. Buying a house is impossible for a poor surfer like me. And so I know there will always be empty sandbanks here.

And I cherish the moments of bliss I have experienced here and keep coming back for more. Keep spending summer days on the dunes, waiting for that Westerly swell and wind to light up our home spot ‘Prullies’. Searching for blackberries when the sea goes flat. Paddle around the buoy when the wind dies out. Skinny dip when the bioluminescent algae turn up. Look up when the Perseids Meteor Shower lights up the night sky. These are the days I live for. Island Bliss.