Super Bocks. Toll Roads. Trains. Vans. Pintxos, Hysterical Laughter. Hangovers bad enough to make grown men cry. 15 man surf checks. 15 man bar crawls. Dinners. Breakfasts. 3 hour lunches. Suspicous bottles of water. “Where’s my wetsuit” .The eternal fin key hunt. Red Wine. White Wine
A damage report from a less than conventional easter weekend, from Hossegor to San Sebastian via the moon.
It was here that the first introduction to the famous Super Bock, henceforth known as Bock was made and from this point there was no turning back..
He hails from the windswept but immensely punt-able island of Guadeloupe in the French Caribbean. No stickers, studies full time at inland Bordeaux, plays synth at dingy sold out cellar gigs, the most infectious of smiles and once fed mushrooms to a staff member here…
