Editor’s Note: #HeavyMissions is a brand new series featuring surfing’s big-wave elite members. These are the stories told by the watermen and women from the heaviest waves around the world. Second in the series is big-wave hellman from the UK, Tom Lowe.
Chasing big surf brings out the best and the worst in me. Every swell, I learn so much about myself, nature, and other people. It prioritizes the important things in life, washes away the clutter, and makes me appreciate the moments that matter. Never am I more clear than around heavy waves, truly living in the present.
Heavy missions are those life-changing moments at sea. The ones you’ll never forget. Those moments that force you to dig deep and test your limits, eventually evolving you into better surfer and, most importantly, a better person. Here are the five most memorable surfs of my life.
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1. Riley’s: Through his pure love of nature and the ocean, Mickey Smith has discovered some of the most beautiful waves in the world over his lifetime. For me to be part of that journey is a true blessing, and I can never thank him enough.
Ten years ago, I hit the road with a few friends heading for Ireland, not knowing what to expect. On the first day we were taken to about four different breaks, all of which we couldn’t surf due to there heaviness. Yeah, I tried, but for the next week I broke my whole quiver, leaving me with just one 6’8. That’s when Mickey stumbled on what he named Riley’s, after his nephew. He called me up buzzing, saying that it’s the heaviest wave he’s seen over here. I was thinking, “Holy shit, I can’t even surf the other ones, how’s this going to go down?” Jumping in the boot of his van, along with Paul Morgan (@pierrelouiscostes) we were going to give her a dig. Mickey was smart enough to get Tom Doidge (@dhsurfboards) to launch the ski. After the trek down the cliffs, I saw cartoon-like mutants detonating into pure reef. The ground was shaking. Morgs was saying, “We can’t paddle… got to tow.”
Pierre was already in the water with his buddy, taking some smaller corners. Once getting into the channel, we both calmed somewhat, paddling into a few beautiful 3-footers. That is, until the sets approached, and you’d be scratching for the horizon trying not to get sucked over on these 8-foot beasts.
As soon as @dhsurfboards entered the lineup, Morgs was towing into everything—left, right, and center, asking me if I wanted a go. I’d never been on the rope, but was keen to ride something I’d only dreamt about until then. It is actually comedy thinking back. The only way I could get to standing position was to get this long run up, onto my knees first, crawling. Whilst this horseshoeing slab formed up, hopefully in time to drop down it. Seems funny now, but I was rattling with fear in those moments.
I’ll remember my first tow till the day I die. It was unreal letting go of the rope, having this mad line so deep behind the thing. I was so scared, excited, big poo stance on me! But hell, I was riding a huge slab finally, after all those years of going over the falls. Once in the channel, I had tears in my eyes, pure euphoric moment.
2. Alieen’s: The worst beating of my life was about seven years ago. Swell was in the 12- to 15-foot range, thick as hell. Anyone who has surfed Alieens knows a 10-footer out there packs the punch of a 20-footer in most spots. @granttwigbaker and @gerglong flew in for it. We all jumped in to do the nuts shore break paddle out. Greg and Twig didn’t make it until the third or fourth time.
I headed straight to the take of zone, dodging the cleanup sets, alone waiting for boys. As soon as Mickey and Fergal got into the lineup, I swung under a solid one, had a lovely roll-in with no chop. I didn’t get tubed, but it was the biggest wave I’d paddled up till then… happy days! I should have called it a day.
Greg and Twig sniffed around the lineup for an hour or so, sussing out any makable ones, which were few and far between. Greg then nose-dived right on the boil, snapping his board, so he, along with Twig, were over paddling. I wasn’t feeling it either. The swell was building and it was getting dark and heavy. With so many massive tubes coming in, it’s so temping to tow, but you really got to pick ’em out there. Choose wrong and you pay the price. If that beast doesn’t hold up and hits the outside ledge, it’s game over.
My gut was saying not to tow, but somehow I grabbed the rope first. Next thing, a big lump rolled in. Fergal asked if I fancied it. I called out, “Go, go, go!” But I was way too late, as I almost airdropped behind the boil. I lost all my speed by the time I got to the bottom. Looking up, it was either going to be the barrel of my life or humble pie. I could see it wasn’t going to do it, so I tired to straighten, instinct mode on. How wrong a line could I take! All that power landed square on my head, knocking the shit out of me. I don’t actually remember being under really.
My shoulder was dislocated, my neck felt broken, my legs weren’t working—I was freaking out whilst washing toward the rocks. You fall at Alieens and there’s only one way out, and that’s back through the waves. You’ve got 700 feet of shear cliff face in front of the wave. I needed picking up fast. My brother Ferg was on me fast enough. What a legend. Then it was a whole world of pain. The long, slow, bumpy ride to land, along with a 4-hour wait till I got the shoulder back in its socket, was brutal. Lessons learned: be patient and always listen to your instincts.
3. Riley’s tow days: There’s been a lot of controversy between tow surfing vs. paddle surfing over the years. My opinion is that they are separate entities. My greatest love and respect has and always will lay with paddle-in. But that’s not to say an engine doesn’t have its time and place. For me, that was during my first heavy Irish days, when I wasn’t physically capable of paddling into those slabs. All we wanted to do was get into those barrels and the ski was the only way.
Back then, it felt so fresh, raw, and real. Mickey, Fergal, and I would go on the search daily to find that next wave. There was no self-promotion, Facebook, or Instagram. It was just for the love of heavy seas. Oh, how things change and evolve… It’s been nearly a whole year since I’ve joined the cyber world; I’m not going to lie, it’s a hard thing to get my head around. But social media does have its pluses, in that you can connect and touch so many peoples’ lives through the Internet. It’s a positive thing in that regard, and I feed on that daily. End of that golden era, and onto a new.
4. Maverick’s: As a child, I had photos of Jeff Clark, Mark Foo, and Eddie Aikau all over my walls, dreaming to one day to at least go and see these famous big wave spots. But living in the UK is not the best start to becoming comfortable in heavy water. It felt so far away, that dream, like it would never happen.
I came from a family with not a lot, working my ass off to get that cash to one day make it happen. Over the years, I built up my skills in big surf very slowly, traveling first to Indo, Aus, Europe, then onto Mex, Hawaii, and Tahiti. After a few shots in the mags from my missions, sponsors were suddenly phoning me, offering me deals. I couldn’t believe they actually wanted to pay me to surf. It was unreal!
That ride lasted about 8 years. But with ups must come the downs, and mine came last winter, the day before the biggest Mavericks swell in years: December 19th. All my main sponsors dropped me at once. Gutted is an understatement. I couldn’t dwell on negatives though, as it was going to be 30-foot+ in the morning.
Mavs for me is the most intimidating of them all. The respect I have for that place in unquestionable. Thanks to @gerglong and @rustylong, I had safety, a boat ride, and their experience to help guild me.
It was so crowded that my game plan was to get an inside double up bomb, and get out, day done. Within twenty minutes, I caught a solid 18-footer in the bowl and almost headed for the boat, but something called for another. Avoiding the outside cleanups, I sniffed around the bowl for an hour or so, stressing in my own head, as I’d had to pull back on a few beauties due to crowd.
The adrenaline starts wearing off, your mind wanders, fear tries to take complete control, or logic, depending on your outlook. That’s when I saw this one and thought, “Nobody’s in the spot. I’m going no matter what.” It wasn’t the biggest wave of my life, but by far the best drop I’ve ever made. Words can’t describe the feelings after I stuck it, riding all the way to the boat. Just sitting, watching all my heroes charging was awesome. I’m truly thankful I lived out my biggest challenge.
5. Mullaghmore: Over five years ago, the wave had only been towed at that size, and it was Fergal Smith that put the idea out there. I was insecure but mad for it, if that makes sense. Knowing that on the day I’d give it a go at least. Finally, the charts aligned, and as often the case, it was a freezing February day, icy winds blowing through your core. I had this weird 8’0 shaped for me, with the only fins I could find in it, which were tiny, no vest, full cowboy style. Layered with a shorty underneath a 6-mil hooded wetty. I could hardly move, full Michelin Man on!
That’s when you’re forced to dig deep and find out how much you actually love it. Fergal, Dan Scag, and I were way out of our comfort zone. Still to this day, I haven’t been so scared. It was 20-foot plus and just plain mutant! At least we had Mickey Smith on safety plus shooting. Fergal got one amazing ride that day, the most technical drop I’ve ever seen out there. In the end it was an epic day for us.
After jumping over a jetski, which is a whole other story, and getting the worst beating I’ve had out there, I finally got a chipshot into this lovely dark Tahitian-style bomb. At that point, it was the ride of my life — still is one of my best. Those vibes will stay with me forever.
See more death-defying moments from Tom Lowe by following him on Instagram.
