And as we're driving through this little town called Bundoran, I looked out the window and I just saw this perfect A frame, eight-foot peak breaking.

I was gasping.

This can't be real.

It's an illusion.

I scream at my parents, "Stop the car!"

And of course they say, "Shut up.

We'll get you an ice cream in the next town."

"No, no, I wanna see the wave."

But they kept driving.

But it always stuck in me, that image of that wave.

And I thought, "Man, there's waves here.

That's a real wave."

And of course I'm not a sinner out.

The water was empty.

Nobody was surfing around there back then, as far as I knew.

The waves there were as good as waves that I surfed in California.

But there were no crowds.

I mean nobody, not even other surfers.

I thought this must be like stepping back, not to the '50s, but to the '40s in California, before surfing was really even recognized, before anything.

And that's how I felt when I stepped into Ireland.