The beach is bitter in the early hours of dawn. The sand feels cold against your feet, and the surfboard feels a little heavier than usual, in this first hour of awakened state. In a desperate attempt to throw some positive light on the situation, the red morning sun shines with all its might, but the heating effect is minimal. This predestined David vs. Goliath battle brings a smile to your face as you know who will prevail in the end. Your heartbeat increases, reaching nearly tachycardiac conditions as the waves enter your field of vision.

The board is waxed; "Wax on!" like Mister Miyagi. "Wetsuit up!" like Barney Stinson. Your eyes never stop watching the breaking waves, which are carefully calculated for size and patterns. A feeling of calmness with a hint of excitement, as your board hits the water and the journey officially starts. The powerful waves break with regular intervals sending high streams of whitewater skyhigh as they crash into the sea. The whitewater rushes past, increasing in strength now. Duckdiving has become a necessity.

Your arms move rhythmically in crawlstyle à la Michael Phelps. The paddle speed is high as you reach breakpoint. The waves seem to reach for the skies like skyscrapers, threatening to bear down upon you with godlike vengeance. You can feel the adrenal glands pumping, and you gladly accept all the noradrenaline it has to offer. Your heart beats faster, your paddle speed increases.

The wave is just about to break, looking like a boxer who has charged the punch ready to knock his opponent into oblivion. Your timing is perfect. With a graceful maneuver you duck under the oncoming watercolossus' heavy hit, reaching the backside. The wave succumbs in an ear deafening roar, leaving your ears ringing. A smile on your face, the hardest part is over...

Behind the breaking waves, there is a soothing and harmonic atmosphere. Sitting on the surfboard, dipping in the seacrust, you constantly scout for potential dancing partners. The sun has risen higher on the sky now, warmth hits your face and you send a grateful smile in the direction of the victor of war. Then you feel it almost instinctively, a constantly building wall of fuming water is approaching fast.

The adrenaline is there instantly, it beats furiously in your chest as your adrenal glands decides to increase output by a couple of hundred percent. Your positioning is perfect. Arms paddling frantically, but decisive. Speed increases. Suddenly you reach the point where it is not you, but the incredible force of the wave which is driving you forwards. You pop swiftly to your feet, and lean in towards the face of the wave.

As the speed increases considerably, you hear the wave breaking behind you with inconceivable power. The sun reflects in the water, which is constantly being drawn into an ever changing, fantastic wave structure. You smile as you reach out with your right arm to decrease the pace, allowing the wave to catch up, creating a tube above you. Through the wave you can see sunlight desperately trying to fight its way to reach you on the other side of the unremitting water masses.

You gradually increase the speed, allowing you to exit the tube, thus entering the open wave landscape again. The board moves quickly and gracefully over the water surface. A stylish turn on the lip of the wave; when you suddenly notice that the monstrosity is about to end its life in a last action of self destruction. You barely make it over the edge of the wave as it breaks with a war cry, which sounds more like a tribute in your ears. A satisfied smile. This was only the beginning..

I grew up on the west coast of Ireland surfing the choppy and freezing waters of Bundoran and Tullan Strand (ice cream head aches for all!). Generally this bay peaks at 10 - 15ft a few times every year. As a kid I would tell my mum I was going to play football with my friends, snatch my board and run. However fear always took control and I would paddle close to the shore observing these things go and the older guys ride like kings!

Skip to ten years later and I am working in central London with my flight booked to visited my family in Ireland for a long weekend and to catch some waves also. However being without a wetsuit, in the Atlantic's bone chilling water is not something anyone would wish for. I met up with two of my childhood friends and as we pulled up at the strand and the guys starting suiting up - I had an admission to make. I hadn't seen these guys in over a year and they saw me looking anxious...

Flashback to 8 months previously: My suit had been stolen during a visit to Cornwall in England. In certain areas of the UK surfers get a rough ride from locals and assaults are all too common. This weekend, I was taking off my wetsuit when the local heavies came over. Finding out I wasn't local (and being in Southern England with an Irish accent!), they decided to use me as a punch bag; breaking my arm in 2 places. Along with this, they stole my board, messed up my car and stole my wetsuit...

Down in the dumps and feeling humiliated after regaling them with my tale of woe, my friends decided that we should do something very ill advised - surf without suits on a winter's day in Ireland. It took a long time to jump into the cold black mass but we did it and managed to catch one beauty before the chill of the Atlantic became too much and we ran retreating to the warmth and heat of the van!

I have now returned to Ireland and I am in need of a wetsuit badly - the winter swell is upon us and the waves are peaking high! I experienced the Atlantic's chill once (never has a white man turned red so easily) and do not want to experience it again. I came back to my home country to surf, and the surf is looking great, my arm is fully recovered and I got a beauty semi gun to ride, now all that is needed is a suit so I can be at home properly! Funds are low but my spirit is up, so i thought i would send my tale your way to see if you can help me out.

As we say in Ireland, "Tog go bog agus cuid na tonnta. Sin mar atas!" (Take it easy and share the waves. That's the way of it!)