Viva l'Italia! Surfing in the wine-dark Mediterranean 

by Sam Bleakley

Master lensmen John Callahan captures some bottle-green Sicilian juice on a surfEXPLORE trip

Surfing the wine-dark Mediterranean is unexpected, and something to be savoured. While the cultural experience is ever-present, the swells are short lived with a small fetch and wave period. Blink and you’ll miss it. The Mediterranean’s waters are the most heavily navigated on Earth, but for surfers they remain strangely uncharted. Yet the Med has a peculiar relationship with explorers - think of poor Ulysses in Homer’s Odyssey.

The waves range from small beachbreaks to fun rolling points and occasional sharp limestone reefs. In summer two-week flat spells are common, but during most of the winter the Med has frequent and violent short-lived storms from the mixing of Atlantic, African and European weather. Between September and May the surf can be three feet and clean in 13-15°C water. The usual source of swell is the consistent Mistral northwest wind, funnelling down the Rhone Valley in France to touch the warmer Med, supplying waves on the north and west facing coastlines to thirsty locals. Italian surfers, concentrated in Genova, Tuscany and Rome, have to be excellent forecasters.

Italian waves were first documented in 1964 by itchy-feet Australian Peter Troy, whose epic four-year sojourn was the spark for many surf scenes around Europe and Latin America.

 “But it was Big Wednesday that really got us going,” said Nik Zanella, who used to edit Italy’s most popular surf magazine, SurfNews. “We already had a wave mentality from the windsurf boom, but John Milius’ film blew our minds and surf scenes quickly developed in Tuscany, Genova and Rome.” Italy embraced the story of friendship, love, war, death and surfing’s coming-of-age like no where else. Not surprisingly Bear became one of their biggest surf labels. But I doubt the bearded board-building guru could predict A day like no other in the fickle Mediterranean. “It’s not a place you’re looking for,” explained Nik, “It’s a condition. Where’s the longest fetch going to strike? And it takes a lot of travelling to be there when it happens. So we grow up with an exploration attitude. And once you can predict waves here, everywhere else seems easy.”

The area around Putzu Idu in Sardinia is the most consistent surf zone, and the long powerful right and short hollow left reef at Capo Manu can be brilliant. When in Rome Banzai is the top spot - it’s a fast punchy rock and sand peak that breaks with a Mistral swell, but gets crowded. Livorno is an occasionally excellent wave in the stunning area of Tuscany. It can be a powerful wedging ride, but it’s fickle.

Italy is sharply divided between the north, middle and south. The centre begins around Bologna and stretches down to Rome. Here the people are warm, there’s a wealth of cool university towns and there can be surf. Despite its frenetic pace, Rome is a happening capital with a youthful vibe and the magnificent Coliseum and Vatican to enjoy. 

Over-all Italy remains one of the most romantic destinations in Europe simply because whether its fashion, cuisine, landscape or porn stars running for parliament, Italians do it better. If you know your Raphael from your Michelangelo then you can walk around places like Rome and Florence in awe. Low cost airlines run regular cheap return flights for under £100 to Rome and other major cities. Accommodation will cost £30 per night, hire cars £150 per week and meals £15 a head. £800 can cover everything on a two week trip.

Although our fantasies as foreign visitors about what lies inside the rock of an Italian town are far richer than reality, in Sicily you are unlikely to meet ‘honourable men’ who are ‘good friends’ with everyone. In exchange for friendship and respect the Italian surfers are warm and welcoming to foreigners. But waves are rare, so if you take advantage you’ll see the hostile hot-blooded Italian side.

Sicily has over 600 miles of coastline and a long left point in the southeast corner was a magnet on my first trip to Italy. The day I arrived with a small surfEXPLORE crew (including Nik Zanella, Emi Cataldi and John Callahan) it untangled for 100 metres, oily like olives. Here we met Gian Pippo, back then the sole local with a classic take on ‘localism’. Pippo snaked and burned us on every set. My Roman surf friends decided to explain the drop in rule to Pippo.

“I know how it works,” he responded. “But since you guys surf more than me, I deserve more waves. And since my spot only works six times a year, when it breaks, there are no rules.”

The famously machismo line-up of La Santa in Lanzarote was Pippo’s only experience of foreign surfing. This place taught him that ‘locals have priority’. But although Pippo understood localism as a way to manage his home, what fascinated the Sicilian was the mystique of his break.

“It has karma towards people. I never used to ride it because of the danger in all the rocks. I knew it would hurt me. I hadn’t paid my respects. Now I offer it respect. It sends good sets to the people who deserve it.”

Back then Pippo was the only surfer in this stretch of Sicily. He offered a fascinating anthropological case study - a social outcast who turned down the chance to be an orthodontist in the city to follow in the wake of his father – fishing and diving. His whole surfing evolution had been totally instinctive, like his understanding of the ocean.

“I use Japanese fishing rope to stop my board from tumbling on the rocks,” said Pippo with great sincerity. “And for the bigger days, when my heart beats faster, I have a board with a rounded stern for the deeper troughs.” The transition from boat to board was an interesting one. The fishing mentality, however, helps, for seventy per cent of Mediterranean surfing is based around weather forecasting.

“But when people want the sea to rise, it does,” said Pippo, as he nodded in the direction of Poseiden, the sea god.  

Later that day, contrary to the forecast, we got drunk on three hours of delicious Italian waves. I let every good set run to a grateful Pippo.

“This is the best day in six years,” he said. The gods smiled on us. I wish some of this good-natured and innocent Mediterranean surf banter would infect our tension-ridden surf breaks. As crowds inevitably grow – and who would want to deny anybody the great feeling of ‘going surfing’? – so does the rate of empty-headed drop-ins and disrespectful visitors. Localism should not ‘rule’, but guide. Locals have devoted their life to a surf break. They know the tides, the rips and the rocks, often with the same sense of mystique shown by Pippo. Locals have their communion with the gods, evident in a deep, sense-based knowledge of weather, shifting sands, white water on marker rocks and the movement of seabirds. These are the marks of respect visitors do not bring. These are treasures no visitor will have. Next time somebody drops in on you at your local break, just remember what gifts that breaks has already given you, and maybe teach them a lesson, Italian style.