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Only the most boring of journeys take you directly to your destination, though, and getting there is more than half the fun. In the course of the Magic Carpet journey, the perfect wave is almost sniffed out in some pretty obscure places like the freezing Orkney Islands for one (where there really is a town called Twatt, I promise you).
But it is experiences beyond wave-riding that give the surf trip its character. Some are bad, some good, but all remain a crucial part of the ride. Among others, Riding the Magic Carpet sees me running away while in France as a teenager, collecting a well-deserved punch to the face in Spain, grossing out at an Indonesian cockfight, sitting at the mouth of the Panama Canal on a half-stolen drug-dealer boat, getting washed bareback over live coral and losing hundreds of hours in transit all in the name of a surf.
Was it worth it? Can one wave really merit a lifetime of looking?
Of course it can.
Tom Anderson
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