Moving the evidence – with the help of a tarpaulin, duct tape and a partner in crime
On a patch of waste ground on the outskirts of Eyemouth, two men are trying to roll up something in a large blue tarpaulin. Behind them are a pair of pebbledashed storage sheds that have seen better days. The grass the men are standing in is knee-high, so it’s difficult to tell what they’re working on, but judging by the colourful language being deployed every time they try to move it, it must be heavy. Once they’ve finally got the tarpaulin around the mystery object, one of the men produces a roll of silver duct tape and carefully winds it round and round the bundle. Whatever they’ve got in there, they seem to be going to a lot of trouble to make sure it doesn’t get out...
Anyone who happened to be walking their dog along the singletrack road that leads to Eyemouth Golf Course last Monday afternoon and witnessed the above scene could have been forgiven for thinking they had stumbled upon a bit of real-life Tartan Noir. But no – this wasn’t a clean-up operation after a gangland hit – just me and my friend Steve wrapping up a giant wicker surfboard before driving it back to Edinburgh.
To rewind a little, for the benefit of those who haven’t read this column for the last couple of weeks, when the Maritime Museum in Eyemouth went into receivership recently they auctioned off their entire collection of notable boats, from Vietnamese sampans to whaling vessels from the Azores. In a moment of madness, I bid 50 quid for a 12-foot long caballito de totora – a kind of Peruvian surfing raft made of dried bulrushes which is thought to be the first device to have been built specifically for riding waves, pre-dating even the earliest Hawaiian surfboards. Once I realised my bid had been successful, elation quickly gave way to puzzlement, as I addressed the dilemma of how best to get this unusual artefect home.
Its length wasn’t an issue – the caballito wasn’t much longer than my longest surfboard, so there would be no problem getting it onto the roof rack. The main complicating factor was the need to keep it dry. Yes, I know – what’s the point of a waveriding vehicle that’s allergic to water? But I’d been doing my homework, and according to veteran surf scribe Matt Warshaw, author of the mighty
Encyclopedia of Surfing, once it gets wet a caballito only lasts for about six weeks before it starts to break down. If I was going to try and surf this thing – and it seemed a shame not to at least give it a shot, caballito-riding opportunities being relatively few and far between on the east coast of Scotland – I was going to need to keep it dry until I had a favourable surf forecast (small-ish waves), a paddle with which to propel it (caballitos need paddles, I’d discovered on Youtube) and a plan. Heavy showers were forecast on the day of the pickup, which is why I set off to Eyemouth with a tarp and a roll of duct tape in the boot.
At the Maritime Museum down by the harbour I met up with Steve, who had taken pity on me and agreed to help out with my fool’s errand, and a few moments later we introduced ourselves to Kenny from the auctioneers, who said he’d show us the way to the “potato sheds” where most of the boats being sold off were stored. The sheds didn’t look like much from the outside, but inside they were a real treasure trove, with canoes, kayaks, rowing boats, dinghies and more stacked almost all the way up to the roof on neat wooden shelves. The four caballitos in the collection were filed away in a little cluster about ten feet up. Kenny pointed out the one I’d bought, and I was relieved to see that – based on my very limited knowledge of biodegradable surf craft – it seemed to be in decent nick. Between us, Steve and I heaved it down from its shelf, getting covered in the dust of ages in the process, then carried it outside into the fresh air, wrapped it in its waterproof cocoon and strapped it firmly to the roof of my car.
Later, having a drink at the St Vedas surf shop and cafe just up the coast in Coldingham, we ran into the owner, another Steve, and told him what we were up to. After the obligatory half an hour of jokes at my expense, one of the Steves – I can’t remember which one – pointed out that a caballito that weighed 90lbs when dry would weigh a lot more when wet, so picking a beach with easy access would be a consideration when trying it out. Powerful, hollow waves, we all agreed, would not be kind to this fragile craft, so we needed a day of small, crumbly surf. As we talked, the light began to fade and the first lines of a new swell started to appear. Thanks to the wisdom of the surfing Steves, a plan was starting to form.
Once it gets wet a caballito only lasts for about six weeks before it starts to break down