However, one main goal of our trip was to maintain the freshness of those pre-internet trips.

In our times — faster-paced than ever, with 4G smartphones quick on the draw and low-cost flights readily available — the meaning of a surf trip doesn’t have the same impact as it did a decade ago.

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Forget those carefully planned missions, targeting the best spot at the peak season and spending three months preparing for it. Nowa- days, it has to be a last-minute decision — whether it’s for a trip with buddies or a commercial shoot. The decision on where to go should ping pong from north to south and finally be made on one last whim.

This trip started with the aforementioned characteristics. We had a small window and a big desire (more like an urge, with winter already in full strike) to surf clean waves. We shifted from Morocco to Galicia until eventually setting up our target on the NW of France in Brittany.

However, one main goal of our trip was to maintain the freshness of those pre-internet trips. We still used mobile phone GPS and local connections to know the best tides, winds, forecast, etc — but we focused on getting the other details right. Like renting a slow clunky land rover and hitting the road, with loud jazz (to cover the roaring engine) and exchanging (shouting) stories for 8 hours straight. We freewheeled from crepes to ciders to kouing amann (buttery butter pastries with butter) to Lambic (toilet drainer) and surfed whatever our eyes were telling us looked good. It kept a friendly and dynamic vibe — one that I have rarely witnessed lately in surf camps or other «strike» surf missions, ready to be unleashed on social media.

Now that soul surfing is as trendy as ever and the modern tendency is to post your (fake) life for everyone to see and admire on Instagram, it was a relief for us to experience a soulful surf trip — maybe even more of a relief to prove to ourselves that such a trip still exists.

There were no perfect waves, lots of farts, dirty (sometimes funny) jokes, and a true feeling of freedom — the sense that we could go wherever that damn chunky Defender could take us and marvel at simple things, whether that’s a funny drunk at the bar or a beautiful cold sunrise.