The Galicia Report: An Investigation with Waves, Cafecitos and Questionable Evidence
Most surftrips begin with a plan. This one began with a plan, a participant list, a house in Galicia, a local guide, a kitchen queen, a surfcoach with too many ideas, and six people who were meant to spend two weeks learning, surfing, laughing and probably discovering that paddling is much harder when someone is watching.
But life, as usual, had its own forecast. One participant had to cancel last minute because of an accident. Another had to leave us on the third day. Both moments were very sad, and they were felt. A surftrip is always more than a schedule with sessions and meals. It is a group that starts forming before everyone even arrives, and when someone suddenly cannot be part of it, there is a little empty space in the lineup, at the dinner table and in the stories.
So we carried them with us in spirit, sent good thoughts their way, and then slowly found our rhythm with the gang that remained: Sugar Ray, Etta, Carole and Casper. A compact crew. A crew that, over the following 14 days, would become part surf students, part ocean detectives, part cafecito researchers and, in Carole’s case, official surf gangster.
The investigation was run by Ramon, our local guide and owner of our homebase house, Ray, our kitchen queen and provider of edible happiness, Rainbow, the wavespotter dog with strong opinions and unclear qualifications, and myself, Angie, surfcoach, trip organizer and the person most likely to shout “al agua, patos!” when everyone was still emotionally attached to dry clothes. Let the Galicia Report begin.
Chapter One: The Case Opens with Coffee and Cake
Every serious investigation needs a headquarters. Ours came with a roof terrace, two kitchens, a view that encouraged deep thoughts, and enough wetsuits hanging around to make the place look like a neoprene crime scene.
The first official act was not a surf session. It was coffee and cake, because we are professionals. After a first surf then came the supermarket run, which is where group dynamics really start to show. You can learn a lot about people by watching them choose snacks for a surftrip. Some plan responsibly. Some panic-buy. Some say, “We don’t need that much,” and are immediately ignored for the safety of the group.
Galicia welcomed us with its usual mix of beauty, moodiness and quiet drama. We explored markets, drank cafecitos in cafes that felt like they had been invented specifically for post-surf happiness, visited viewpoints, took little trips to places full of stone, sea air and charm, and slowly settled into the rhythm of our homebase.
Every night at dinner, Ray looked at the sky and gave us what would become one of the official trip prophecies: “It could be a nice sunset.” This sentence was used with optimism, caution and most of the days no relation to meteorological reality. But that is what makes a good surftrip quote. It does not need to be accurate. It needs to be emotionally useful.
Chapter Two: The Suspects Enter the Water
The first surf sessions were about observing, testing, adjusting and figuring out where everyone really was. Not where they thought they were, not where they wanted to be, not where their last surftrip memory had placed them, but where their surfing was in that exact moment, in that exact water, with those exact waves. That is always the interesting part.
Sugar Ray arrived with energy, humour and a take-off that had potential but needed a little less “surprise party” and a little more structure. His main file became the correct take-off, especially how to turn all that power into something clean, repeatable and slightly less suspicious.
Etta’s case was different. She had to become more proactive. The wave was not going to send a handwritten invitation. There would be no formal email saying, “Dear Etta, we are pleased to inform you that your take-off opportunity is now available.” She had to read it, decide, paddle and go.
Casper worked on core and breathing, which sounds very calm until you try doing it while the Atlantic is lifting your board and your brain is screaming twelve different instructions at once. His challenge was to stay connected and stable without turning surfing into an Excel sheet with water damage.
And then there was Carole. Our surf gangster. Not because she was terrifying, although one should never underestimate a woman working on her turns, but because she brought that quiet “I am watching, learning and then I will casually improve” energy. Her case file was all about take-offs, paddling and intention. The board, we agreed, was not just there to transport her from foam to beach. It had missions.
Chapter Three: Evidence Found in the Lineup
This was a 14-day intensive surf camp, so yes, we surfed. But we also investigated. Every wave became evidence. Every paddle attempt was a clue. Every missed take-off had something to say, usually: “You looked too late,” or “Your back foot was on holiday,” or “Why are you paddling like you want to hurt the water?”
The main mission was catching unbroken waves with more understanding. That meant learning where to sit, how to read the peak, how to look at the wave while paddling and how to stop hoping that speed alone would solve everything. We worked on catching waves with fewer paddle strokes, feeling the glide before take-off, keeping eyes up, head up, chest up, and finding that sprinter position on a board that was already moving forward.
This was one of the big breakthroughs of the trip: the take-off is not one heroic movement. It is a transition. You do not just jump up and hope for applause. You move with the board, you organize your body, and you give yourself a chance to actually surf the wave instead of performing a brief and emotional dismount.
There were clear individual tasks in the water. Casper had core and breathing. Etta had proactivity. Ray and Carole had the correct take-off. And everyone had the ongoing group task of looking at the wave while paddling, which sounds so obvious that it almost hurts, until you realize how many surfers paddle with the facial expression of someone trying to remember their online banking password.
Chapter Four: The Partyplan Was Not a Party Plan
One of the key theory things was the daily Partyplan. Despite the name, this did not involve gin tonics, although those entered the story later. The Partyplan is how we observe a surfspot before paddling out. Where are the waves breaking? Where are the channels? Where are other surfers sitting? What is the tide doing? What are the reference points? Where is the safest place to enter and exit? Where is the “party” happening in the water, and are we experienced enough to join it?
We also talked about our situation as travelling surfers. We do not just arrive somewhere, paddle out and behave as if the ocean has been waiting for us personally. We are guests. That means reading the lineup, respecting local rhythm, understanding surf etiquette and becoming a conscious part of what is already happening.
Ramon’s local knowledge was gold here. He knew the coast, the conditions and the tiny details that turn “maybe” into “yes” or “absolutely not.” His most famous contribution to the investigation was the sentence: “Maybe the one behind.” This could refer to a wave. It could refer to a better option. It could refer to life. We are still analyzing the full philosophical depth of it.
Chapter Five: Theory, or How We Became Ocean Nerds by Accident
Between surf sessions, cafecitos and recovery, the group slowly became more and more nerdy. In a good way. A very good way. The kind of nerdy that makes surfing safer, smarter and more satisfying.
We talked about reference points, surf etiquette, different types of waves, how to assess your own level and why wave stage B is our take-off friend. We watched videos about catching unbroken waves and the walk-off. We broke down the take-off, the extra step, the ramp, the dropping-in feeling and the difference between standing up on a board and actually moving with a wave.
There was forecast work too. Wind swell versus ground swell, buoys, maps of the European ocean floor, beachbreaks, reefbreaks and pointbreaks. At one point, investigating Raglan and The Wedge became homework, because apparently we had crossed the line from “surf camp” into “marine science club with snacks.”
Video analysis brought the whole thing together. Everyone had to write down two things they liked about their own surfing and one thing they did not like. This matters, because surfers are often world-class experts at seeing only what went wrong. Then everyone rated themselves on the key tasks and created their own hitlist. Not a criminal hitlist. A surf improvement hitlist. Although some habits were definitely taken into custody.
Chapter Six: Recovery, or The Tennis Ball Knows Everything
An intensive surftrip needs recovery, otherwise by day five everyone moves like old garden furniture. This year’s recovery tool was a tennis ball, a small yellow object with the emotional sensitivity of a medieval interrogation device. It found every tight spot, every hidden knot and every “I didn’t even know that could hurt” area with terrifying precision.
We worked through fascia self-love, rope exercises with our recycled rock climbing ropes, lower back releases, cobra, rotation sequences, mountain climber stretches, squat walks and arm exercises. We also practiced vagus nerve breathing, which gave everyone a way to calm the system after surf sessions, travel days and moments when the ocean had been a little too honest.
There was also a recovery meditation on the top terrace. Very peaceful. Very scenic. Very grown-up. And then there were the spa sessions. Not one. Two. Because Galicia surf, recovery routines and hot water from a serious jet that should probably be protected by law.
Chapter Seven: The Cafecito & Food Trail
No Galicia Report would be complete without addressing the cafecito situation. There were many. Some before surf. Some after surf. Some during trips. Some in hotel gardens. Some in places whose names suggested they were open all year, which, in our emotional state, felt deeply reassuring.
We went to Combarro, explored O Grove, had cafecito in Furnas, enjoyed slow mornings with brunch and took in those Galicia moments where the light, the stone houses and the sea make you briefly forget that your wetsuit smells like a biological experiment. There was dinner in a furancho, a birthday cake on the roof terrace, and a piñata, because apparently our training methodology now includes adults attacking hanging objects for joy and sugar.
And then came the sunset dance in the gin tonic bar.We cannot share every detail, partly because this is a public blog and partly because the investigation is ongoing. What we can say is that Ray’s “it could be a nice sunset” became true in the broadest possible sense. There was sky. There was mood. There was dancing. There may have been a case involving a bathing suit and butt light. But some things are best preserved as evidence in the hearts of those who were there.
For more visual evidence from the trip, have a look at our Facebook photo album.
Chapter Eight: The Ocean Gives Its Statement
The surf itself gave us everything we needed. Small waves with big fun. Stormy conditions that asked for patience. Sessions where positioning mattered more than courage. Waves that rewarded timing. Waves that punished rushing. Whitewater work, unbroken waves, gliding, take-offs, turns, searching, repositioning and the repeated realization that the ocean does not care about your plan, but it does respond beautifully when you start listening.
On one of the later sessions, the task was simple: search for the waves and implement everything learned during the first week. This is where coaching becomes really interesting. The goal is not that students wait for instructions forever. The goal is that they start seeing more themselves. Reading more. Deciding more. Understanding why they are where they are.
And on the last day, the official task was: have fun. This sounds almost too easy after two weeks of focus, analysis, drills and theory. But it is often the point. Learn the tools, understand the ocean, become more aware, and then let yourself enjoy the ride. That last part matters. A lot.
Chapter Nine: The Shaperoom and Other Suspicious Activities
One of the special stops was Walter’s shaperoom, where surfboards suddenly became more than equipment. They became objects of desire, technical curiosity and financial danger. A shaperoom visit is risky because everyone enters thinking, “I am just looking,” and leaves mentally rearranging their life to justify a new surfboard.
There were also the attempts to free Willy. No whales were harmed. No international rescue operation was officially launched. But the phrase belongs in the report because it perfectly represents the kind of moment that happens on a surftrip and later makes absolutely no sense to anyone who was not there.
That is the beauty of these trips. They create a shared language. Not one that excludes others, but one that reminds the group: we lived something together. We had our little jokes, our little rituals, our small disasters, our good decisions, our questionable decisions, and the moments that will resurface months later in a message that simply says: “Maybe the one behind.”
Final Report
So what was this Galicia surftrip? It was not the trip we expected at the beginning. It became smaller, more intimate and probably more intense because of it. We missed the two people who could not share the full journey with us, and we hope there will be another lineup, another dinner table and another chance for them to be part of it.
For the four who stayed, Galicia became a two-week investigation into waves, timing, courage, patience, humour and the mysterious whereabouts of the correct back foot.
There were waves. There was theory. There were spa sessions, tennis balls, viewpoints, markets, cake, piñata action, sunset dancing and enough cafecitos to power a small coastal village. Mostly, there was learning.
Not just learning how to surf better, but learning how to look more closely. At waves. At conditions. At yourself. At the lineup. At the places we visit and the people who make those places special. And that’s a big part of that what a NOMB Surftrip is really about. You come for the waves. You leave with better surfing, better ocean knowledge, sore shoulders, new friends, several inside jokes and a strange emotional attachment to the sentence: “Maybe the one behind.” And yes, it could be a nice sunset.
Want to Know About the Next NOMB Surftrip?
We are already dreaming, planning and quietly investigating where the next NOMB Surftrips in 2027 might take us. Our surftrips to Chile, both for beginner & transition surfers and independent surfers, are already open for bookings.
Will be return to Galicia next year? At this point we don’t know yet but sign up for our newsletter below to be the first to hear about our upcoming trips, new dates and small-group surf adventures.
Sea you in the ocean soon. Hugs, Angie
