Since I was eight years old, my parents were always going off on feral missions to South America or Scandinavia and I’d be along for the ride. Looking back, it was pretty incredible, but it also meant it screwed up my chances of leading a normal life. I still have the itchiest feet, and even though I followed a traditional path of school and uni, I spent the next twenty years travelling after that, give or take, and have never really had a proper job. Seven years as the editor of a surf mag doesn’t count.
What I have acquired, however, is a growing responsibility to stop shooting and writing and making films about all the good bits of surf travel, and start turning my camera and thoughts on what…