It's tricky getting photos of yourself surfing. If I was a hot, young pro (surfer, that is), I would have sponsorhip, a dedicated photographer and enough cash to buy a board-mounted camera. And however big it feels when you're surfing, the camera always seems to lie and make the biggest, critical monster look like small, gutless slop.
So until I make it as a hot, young pro, these are proof that I have indeed got into a wetsuit and entered the water holding a board, photos courtesy of Karen. Not conclusive evidence of actually surfing, I realise, but you'll just have to make the leap of faith. (This is pretty much what you have to do when you're surfing, because logic and reason suggest there's no way that small lump of fibre-glass and foam is going to let you stand upright on that big expanse of vertical water).
This is on-shore, windblown slop at Westport, on the Mull of Kintyre.
And this is me wandering through the golf course and down to the beach at Macrahainish in search of seal-infested waves (see surf report passim).
The North Coast is fantastic... when the sun's out. When it rains, as it did continuously on Sunday and Monday, it's miserable. I've been surfing Melvich, with reasonably good, head-high, clean waves but occasional close-outs (no photos, pending an update of my status to hot, young pro).