Getting to Ireland is an easy enough task. Especially in surf season, September-November, plane fares from the US are often absurdly cheap, rent-a-cars are reasonable, no shots needed, and hey, everyone speaks English. Not to mention most popular south swell places (think Costa Rica, Mainland Mexico) have shut off for their long winter's nap. And after a couple weeks of driving around the greenest, prettiest countryside you've ever seen, stopping at pubs for perfectly poured Guinness, bad food and great conversation, and occasionally catching the odd wave, the hardest thing is actually coming home.

Just ask early '70s explorer Kevin Naughton -- he can't stay away. In fact, the solid Laguna Beach regularfoot -- who probably pioneered more waves around the world than most of us will ever surf -- still keeps a Dutch cottage within striking distance of Donegal Bay and the reefs around Lahinch. And this is 30 years after penning the first feature story on Ireland for Surfer magazine in '78 called A North Atlantic Wave Harvest.

"There was already a pretty established surf scene in France and England in 1978," Naughton explains. "But Ireland was just getting started. It was a wonderful time to be in a place where all the surfers in the country knew each other and they were hungry for any contact with the outside surfing world."

Of course people were riding waves on the Emerald Isle pre-'78. In fact, surfing started here back in 1963, when British Customs officer Ian Hill surfed Castlerock and then the following summer at Tullan Strand and Bundoran. Right around the same time in the south of Ireland, Kevin Cavey read a Reader's Digest story about surfing and attempted to manufacture his own surfboard, to little success; he eventually created a weird kneeboard thing and finally ordered a balsa kit from England. In 1966, Cavey was the first one photographed surfing in Ireland (the Fall issue of Surfer magazine, showed him riding a cold-looking, onshore mushy two-footer), and he represented the Surf Club of Ireland in the World Champs that year in California. But as far as exploration goes, the dozens of really good waves around Bundoran and Easky weren't really checked out much till Naughton et al started poking around in the late '70s.

"The level of surfing has always been high in Ireland," Naughton continues. "And the Irish surfers were never greenhorns, stoked to show off their surf spots for everyone to see; they knew they had a good thing and wanted to keep it that way." And sometimes the rewards aren't exactly what you'd think.

And today, after dozens of magazine articles and films featuring Europe's so-called cold-water Indo, not much has changed. Sure, it's obviously more crowded, and yes, Irish surfers are warm and friendly -- but they're not naive. After researching Surfline's Ireland surf map a couple years back, I received a letter from Zoe Lally from the Irish Surfing Association: Over the years Irish surfers have co-operated with the various surf media/ surf guides on the understanding that certain surf spots were not named in features, surf guides etc. We would certainly be prepared to assist you with information on surfing in Ireland provided that the surf spots listed are those already agreed and listed in other guides. In other words, you're welcome to show up, here's the Peak and a Guinness and if you want to know more, you'll actually have to either talk to us, or do a helluva lot of driving, same as we did.

Ireland's favorite surfing son Richie Fitzgerald, explains: "This isn't some undiscovered paradise with leprechauns and perfect, empty waves around every corner. We're not that windswept and interesting. But when the Peak's on, mate...we're out there."

Ireland has been going through a serious economic upswing since the '90s, which means more leisure time and disposable income. This, coupled with better wetsuits, surfing's mainstream appeal, learn-to-surf-camps etc, of course equals more and more people wanting to surf. As of 2005, depending on who you talk to, there are between 10,000 and 50,000 surfers in Ireland. There are a couple dozen surf shops and three live surf webcams and countless websites, books and magazines filled with detailed Irish surf info. When the Peak is on, the crowd verges on Lower Trestles size, though with a pecking order. But as they say, it's small for a country but big for an island -- it's not over yet. "I used to get all nostalgic about surfing the Peak with only a few people," Naughton says. "But the truth is that there is so much surf in Ireland -- you just have to look a little harder."