“Paddle hard, the power is in the pocket” were the last words I heard before I found myself three feet under a two-degree barrage of murky brown water, tumbling through a disused quarry in rapture and disbelief at 11am on a Thursday morning.
Oddly, I had been waiting years for this moment and would have believed I was dreaming had it not been for the two-degree chill that was seeping into my wetsuit. This time it was real: Europe’s largest wave pool had finally drifted onto Edinburgh’s shores.
I was out of the house at 9:30am (ignore their hour recommendation; you only need 30 minutes to get suited and booted once you’re there) and in a wave by 11am. Yes, in it. Thankfully, my instincts pulled me out of ecstasy as I surfaced and readied myself for the rest of the set to swallow me up. But nothing.
I was instead met with the smiling face of my host, Flynn, who brought me into the slipstream of the man-made riptide, pointed me back in position, gave me a couple pointers, and waved me off as I flew down the face of the next set. Where was the ice-cold washing machine we all know so well? The razor-sharp fins we’ve come to adore? The salty locals we so often cater for? Or that one rogue, 9-foot monster we can only laugh at as the whole lineup receives that all-too-familiar hug? Not here, thankfully. Disappeared and replaced by an elegant, consistent, world-class roller that’ll cost you £46.75 on a weekday (use code ‘STUDENT’ on checkout, if you are one). If that’s your thing then surf’s up, but for me, the whole ordeal was strange, and even after the hour I still felt like I was cheating on the ocean with its artificial cousin.
Nonetheless, you go to Lost Shore for a different sort of experience. Sure, you don’t get the raw thrill of being out in the howling winds of Belhaven’s blistering bay, but you’re bargaining for consistency, time to practice, to be on a wave for longer than a handful of seconds, and, in my (midweek) case, to have all 158 waves to yourself.
Oh, and if surfing isn’t your thing, and I must plead for you to at least try it before reaching this conclusion, then you’re not short of options. Go see Kuba at the canteen, who will point you towards the infamous CIVERINOS pizza, or to Rafa’s for a South-Western-American-But-Really-Glasgow-Based-Mexican taco, or to Five March for what he calls a ‘Scottish tapas’. You’ll also find the Spear Sauna, the Lost Surf Skate, the Lost Wellness Spa, the Lost Pods ‘n Lodges, the Lost Cinema + Feast (only this Christmas), and more.
So, if you’re asking me? Well, winter is certainly among us, and it conspires with the bitter cold for yet another year to drop-off before you have got time to get your beanie out the bottom drawer. This much is true, and admittedly a Baileys hot chocolate at the Christmas market would be appropriately seasonal. But when did I start talking seasons?
This city has finally been blessed with what my fellow surfer on the other side of the pool described as “a year’s worth of swell”, and whilst Edinburgh will forever be a lifetime away from a surfer’s paradise, one hour in Andy Hadden’s £60m pond gives you a whiff of what that just may feel like.
Photo via Harry Turner