Saltburn has become busier as a result but is still less well known for surfing than other East Coast spots such as Whitby, Robin Hood’s Bay and Scarborough. But surfing here is not a new phenomenon. Saltburn has had a hardcore of dedicated surfers dating back to the 1960s when three young lads read a Sunday Times supplement article about surfing in Hawaii and decided to have a go themselves.
“We knew Saltburn was ideal for it because we were born and bred here. My family had an old Victorian chalet and we’d all been in the sea since we were nippers,” says John Roughton, known locally as one of the “Big Three”. He was 21 in 1965 when he and two friends lit the fuse on the Saltburn surf scene.
“It started with a friend of mine, John Smith, who got the idea and he mentioned it to me when I was home on leave from the Navy,” says Roughton. “So I said, ok, we’ll have a go. We put us money together and he shaped the first board. I think it cost us about £15. He made it because I was away at sea. By the time I got back again it was about ready and he was also starting one of his own, and another friend of ours, Ian Davies, was also starting one.”
Those first boards were 10ft long. They were surprised when they floated and allowed them to paddle out. He doesn’t remember standing up for the first time but he remembers realising he was. He was hooked.
“It was cold because we didn’t have a wetsuit but it was good fun. It didn’t take us long to get the hang of it. I had a full month’s leave so I did nothing else.”
Some of the harshest North Sea temperatures were recorded during the 1960s and the trio soon realised they needed wetsuits. They made their own, sourcing neoprene and sticking the seams with rubber glue. A bottle of talcum powder to help wrangle their bodies into them was an essential piece of kit. A scene began to emerge around them.
“Some of the lads from the local diving club came and joined in so there were soon a few of us doing it, which was surprising because at that point no one went down to the beach. The car park was a wreck and the pier was out of action – it had been badly damaged in a storm so was dangerous. Saltburn was quite dilapidated at that time in the 1960s.
“Within a couple of years we had quite a crowd coming. It was the 1960s so it was all flower power and free love. It was quite good. We’d have beach parties with fires.”
Roughton, the last of the Big Three in Saltburn, is 80 now. Last year he finally hung up his wetsuit – a proper one, not homemade.
“I was doing all right up to 79 and then at 80 it got too cold for me. I was having to expend too much energy to get out, and then the cold gets to you. I am missing it,” he says.
Saltburn is always special for surfing “because it’s my home” but by 1968-69 he and Davies were “trucking all over Europe, looking for surf in our old Volkswagen car with a couple of tents”. He still has a van parked on his drive and has always “trucked” with the family.
“It’s one way to get out of here, isn’t it?”
Escapism is central to surfing and Saltburn is a 12-mile slice of serenity, contrasting with the heavily industrialised towns surrounding it. After Roughton left the Navy, like many locals, he worked in nearby shipyards where he was an engineer.
“When it comes to the North East surfing is a bittersweet story,” says Simon Palmer, a local surfer who documented the town’s surf history in his book Don’t Jump Off The Pier.
“On one hand you’ve got this perception that the North East is cloth caps and whippets, that it’s impoverished, with lots of industry and a bit miserable looking, and yes it is. But then you’ve got the sweet side of it, which is beautiful coastlines, lots of people doing all sorts of interesting things. There’s this surfing scene and this beauty in among the grit.”
Palmer, who was also a Navy man, moved to Saltburn from Plymouth over 30 years ago. He says he has saltwater running through his veins. He’s one of the locals down on the beach this morning.
“When I'm surfing I’m the true me,” he says. “This is where I’m happiest.” But he points out that surfing in the bitterly cold North Sea entails a certain hardship you have to endure. In that way it’s not a million miles from the industrial legacy of Teesside.
The pioneers agree that contrasts with the warm nature of the surf scene here.
“The people are authentic and fun,” says Palmer. “Wherever you surf you can get quite a high degree of localism and territorialism. What you find here is people are very passionate and proud of their local spot – but they are very giving.”