An amateur at the World Cup in Morocco

Marc Frenzel, 50, competed as an amateur at the Wave World Cup in Morocco. His entertaining account takes you along on the journey.

“But I don’t want to come in last!” is my answer to the question of whether I want to compete in the 2026 Moulay Wave Classic. Sergio and Marc from Sailboards Tarifa have been asking me for weeks if I’d like to join them and compete in the 2026 Wave Classic contest in Moulay. They’ve been organizing the competition for several years now together with a friend from Moulay.

But contests aren’t really my thing, and definitely not with wind coming from the right! But the entry fee includes not only the obligatory T-shirt but also two dinners and a cocktail… You can always tempt me with food! Plus, they promised me I wouldn’t come in last. Well then…

So I signed up right away, and off we went at the end of April. My nearly 40-year-old T3 Syncro was packed to the brim, since we had to transport quite a bit for the contest and the kids from Moulay—stuff that wouldn’t fit in the others’ cars. We hadn’t planned to stay overnight, so no problem.

Unfortunately, my ferry was nearly four hours late. Because of that, the first thing I saw of Morocco was nothing but well-lit highway signs. My first interaction with the locals at the toll booth was quite friendly.

Around half past two in the morning, I had to start thinking about getting some sleep. So I quickly and creatively stowed the boards, bags, packages, sails, and whatever else was scattered all over my bed in the van—and then it was off to bed!

The next morning, the muezzin from the highway mosque persuaded me to hit the road early, which is why I rolled into the surfer parking lot in Moulay around noon. The wind was just picking up, and after a quick round of greetings, I set up my 5.2 with the 93 board.

The idyllic brown color of the water reminded me a bit of Maasvlakte on really bad days, but the waves were top-notch! Long and powerful! However, as the tide went out, the water on the left side of the reef was getting shallower and shallower, and I hadn’t gotten much sleep either. That’s why I wanted to take care of the paperwork on land, since the contest was set to start the next day. So I grabbed my registration form, key chain, wristband, and T-shirt, posed for a photo, smiled, and off I went.

Saturday, April 25, 2026, first day of the contest
The conditions were such that the contest organizers decided to send the amateurs out first. I was in the third heat. So, time to set up the sails! Since the best wife ever had also given me her entire setup, I was able to set up the 4.4 and 4.8 together.

Then a test run with the 4.8. Yeah, a little intense, but it works. Now I’ve got to get back to shore fast so I don’t get in the way of the others. While I’m watching the others, the wind keeps getting stronger. Damn, maybe I should go with the 4.4 after all? Nope! Better to hang on tight than park it!

Beep, beep, my heat is starting! I can barely make it to the water with the 4.8—it’s blowing that hard. Everyone else has set up at least one size smaller. Even a rider who looks a bit heavier than me! Here we go. A match lasts 17 minutes. It counts as one jump and two waves! Great—I can jump when the wind’s coming from the right. It’s just the landing that’s tricky! Fully rigged, I head for the first wave. High, long in the front, short in the back, and wait for the crash. Front loop: Check! Water start and on I go!

Thanks to the sail that’s way too big, I’m out there ahead of everyone else and can pick a nice wave. My bottom turn has the radius of Saturn’s rings, and on the cutback, I have to give it everything I’ve got to avoid getting thrown off the wave. A 4.4 would definitely have been enough! Three waves later, my watch beeps and the horn blares on shore.

Heat’s over! Thank God—or rather, thank Allah! I’m completely wiped out! Back at the car, I check my phone to see the live heats. I’m in second place and through to the next round! Click—the points update. Now I’m in third place and out! Awesome—I’m just 0.3 points short. Romain Sibois and Peter Wagner are moving on to the next round!

One of the judges spares me the decision of whether to turn to comfort eating, mindless surfing, or sleeping to cope with my frustration. “Would you like to help out with judging?” I want to say, “Just leave me alone with that—I’m completely wiped out and frustrated to boot!” But what actually comes out of my mouth sounds more like: “Sure, I’d love to! I’ll be right there!”

They quickly explain to me which jumps are worth how many points and when deductions are made (butt in the water is bad; sail in the water is really bad. Swimming back to your gear after a jump doesn’t earn any points at all). I’m already familiar with all this—after all, why else do I always watch the World Cup livestream?!

What surprises me is how strictly the wave rides are judged: One of the pros does five turns, two aerials, and then lies down at the end of the goiter—0 points! Didn’t finish the wave! Ugh, that’s harsh!

After a few hours in the judges’ tent, I’m glad to be relieved. Although Raquel Alonso generously supplies us with everything the little “supermercado” in Moulay has to offer, watching intently against the low-hanging sun is really exhausting! Hats off to the judges who do this for hours on end, several days in a row—and completely without pay!

In the evening, after the wind has died down and the last heat is over, dinner begins at Darlawama. Mountains of salads, tagine, bread, and tea await the starving surfers. The atmosphere is great, and we eat and chat nonsense late into the evening.

The next morning, the waves are a bit smaller, but they’re nice and clean and long on the reef on the leeward side of the bay. I have the best day of surfing I’ve had in a long time. Back on land, I have to spontaneously change my plans a bit. I was actually planning to watch the pros while having breakfast, but the conditions are so “bad” that the race organizers have decided to start a redemption round for the amateurs! Losers’ Round! So much for a relaxed breakfast—I’m back in the action! I’m up in the third heat.

Since my gear from the early session is still set up on the beach, I actually have time for a quick breakfast after all. Before that, the “Junior Boys U18” are sent out onto the water! The judges run the entire competition, right through the finals! The level of the “Boys” is insane! The jumps include front loops, back loops, tabletops, and a series of solid landings! The guys are going all out! They’re tearing up the waves with the same youthful carefree spirit they use to nail their maneuvers in the air. In the end, Yannik Kolb Gonzales takes the win ahead of Nourdine Alabedi and Peter Gobisch.

Hooray! It’s finally my turn again! Another 17 minutes—the best two waves and one jump count! In my head, I go over what I’ve learned from the judges: Upon landing, the sail—and ideally your butt, too—should stay dry, and you definitely shouldn’t fall after riding the wave!

Today the 4.8 is working perfectly! On the way out, it’s the same routine as yesterday: jump off, rotate in, and wait for the impact! I’m on a roll today! The sail stays dry on landing, and I glide right on. Out there, a nice set of waves is coming my way. I check—the wave is clear: let’s go! Three to four turns, plenty of water in the air on the cutback, even a little aerial thrown in—it’s going great! Now jibe cleanly out and don’t fall in!

The other surfers in the heat are going all out. Endlessly long rides, awesome cutbacks into really high sections! One or two of them pay for their courage with some serious washouts. Especially on the left side of the spot, the waves pack a serious punch. After 17 minutes, everyone makes it back to shore without any major damage to people or gear.

I don’t even want to check what place I finished in. The boss at Sailboards Tarifa thinks I’d definitely make it to the next round. Next to the judges’ tent, a few riders are huddled together, looking at their phones. The results are online!

Fernando Mesquita and I have advanced to the next round. I’m in first place. Wow! What’s going on here?! So my tactic with the dry sail must have paid off.

A short time later, it’s time for my next heat. Things are starting to get stressful… If I finish in first or second place here, I’ll make it to the semifinals.

So I quickly slip on my contest shirt and head out to the water. The atmosphere out there is electric right now. The other riders in the heat are warming up, patting each other on the back, and we’re taking photos together. This heat is going to be tough. At 50, I’m the youngest in the field and have to compete against the combined windsurfing experience of Piero Dalla, Sergio Alonso, and Ivanjo.

Beep! Here we go again! The 4.8 is still manageable, but it really pulls on my hand upwind in the bay. The four of us take off side by side at full speed. Out there, the first set is forming, and we all have the same idea: first, nail the jump, and then more or less relax and look for waves.

It’s like being on a trampoline. Rocket Airs, Table Top, Donkey Kick, and me again with my standard jump: front loop. This time I catch the wave perfectly! Push off, rise, rotate… whoa! That’s high! It feels like I’m rotating completely vertically, so I decide to open the sail after all and land butt-first. Better no points than swimming ashore with two half-boards!

Over the next 17 minutes, the wind keeps dying down. Good thing we’ve all already caught our waves. The waves are big and clean, but choosing the right ones gets harder and harder as the wind drops. By the end, we’ve all caught at least one good wave and had a proper ride.

We walk along the shore together; there’s not enough wind—or energy on my part—to tack. After two liters of water and a chocolate bar, I work up the courage to check the results. It wasn’t as good as my first heat—I’m sure of that. Piero Dalla is in first place with his big waves and those seemingly endless rides. I’m in luck! Second place! That means I’m through to the semifinals!

Back on shore, Florian from Berlin approaches me: “Hey, the two of us are in the same semifinal heat as Peter and Alice. We’re heading out together for the evening session. Come with us!” No sooner said than done. The four of us head out into the evening. I hadn’t met Florian and Alice before. Peter, the fourth member of the group, had knocked me out in the preliminary round when I’d set up a sail that was a bit too big.

But there’s no sign of the sail being too big this evening. Quite the opposite, actually. Even with a 5.2, I sometimes get stuck. Peter, who’s more in my weight class, suffers the same fate. Alice and Florian, on the other hand, are ripping and freestyling like crazy! If the wind doesn’t pick up significantly in the semifinals, I can already imagine how it’ll end….

On Monday, the third day of the contest, there are no heats. The wind and waves let us down, and the forecast doesn’t look any better until the weekend.

So, for now, sightseeing is on the agenda. Essaouira is the next biggest city and it’s beautiful! Just right for me as a first-timer in Morocco. Inexpensive food, friendly people, and a great beach where you can rent camels and horses to ride.

In the old town, I top up my Moroccan cell phone card, buy “genuine Apple” headphones for the equivalent of three euros, and pick up a Tuareg compass! Tuesday proves the weather forecast right. No surfing today, but I do enjoy a “Contest Cocktail” at “Beach and Friends” on the beach in Essaouira.

Since the weather forecast promises absolutely no windsurfing conditions until Thursday, I drive to Marrakech that evening—a distance of just under 180 km. Near Jemaa el Fna, I park my van in a guarded parking lot. Hunger immediately drives me into the hustle and bustle.

Every evening, Jemaa el Fna has a carnival-like atmosphere: countless restaurants disguised as food stalls, street performers, fruit stands, musicians, storytellers, locals, and tourists fill the square and the surrounding souks. If you’re looking for peace and solitude, this is definitely the wrong place to be.

I let myself drift through the narrow alleys, dodging donkey carts and mopeds. This is the Morocco I imagined. It’s amazing! Incredibly good! After a while, I find a pizzeria that serves really good pizza for 30 dirhams (a little less than three euros). It might not be typical Moroccan food, but who cares.

The next morning, the square looks like a different place. The restaurants and many of the street performers have disappeared: shopping time! After some tough haggling, I buy two djellabas. I’ve wanted one of these typical Moroccan oversized hooded shirts for a long time.

Afterward, I find a snack bar on the edge of the souks, next to a moped repair shop and a blacksmith. Besides me, the only other people there are Moroccan schoolchildren. Great! If anyone knows where to get a cheap, filling meal, it’s this crowd. For 40 dirhams (just under four euros), I get something like a döner with fries and a Coke. The owner is happy that I’m enjoying it and gives me another serving of fries for free. Awesome! I instantly like anyone who gives me free food.

With a full stomach and shopping bags in hand, I head back to Essaouira—I don’t want to miss the wind or the contest there… When I roll into the parking lot that evening, I spot Fran’s rigged-up gear. Damn! I hope I didn’t miss anything? But Fran reassures me: There was no gliding possible, and he only caught a few waves. It’ll definitely be windier tomorrow!

Or maybe not. Friday is the next contest day! Man, this could all get pretty tight now! The awards ceremony is already on Saturday morning!

Beep! It’s Friday, and the second semifinal with me has just started. There’s hardly any wind, and only two waves count—no jumps. I rigged up my 5.2 in the “Ostholstein potato sack” setup: my belly’s sticking out like crazy! Still, I can only park out there. But with a few breaks for washing up, I get a good view of the others’ action.

Florian Kellner has a great eye for the waves and rides sets almost as high as the mast with four to five turns. Alice Troulliard is also fearlessly ripping through the big waves. Peter Wagner, who’s about my weight class, manages to catch several nice waves thanks to his larger board and breaks them down like a pro. And even I catch two waves—though they’re significantly smaller—and end up, deservedly, in last place in the second semifinal.

Florian Kellner wins with 7.6 points, ahead of Alice Troulliard with 4.0 points. Peter Wagner follows very closely behind (3.96 points). I score a whopping 2.17 points, which means I’m now truly out of the running.

The amateur final starts right after that. Florian wins ahead of Piero Dalla, who had previously won the other semifinal. Matthias Aeberhard and Alice Trouillard follow in third and fourth place.

The action continues immediately on the water. It’s the Pro Men’s turn. Seven heats are run, from the quarterfinals to the finals. Here, too, only two waves count, and no jumps are allowed. As the sun sets, Jahdan Tyger from Basel is declared the winner. A clean goiter secures him the victory. Just 0.2 points behind is Marc Alonso from Tarifa, followed by Yves Masnada.

My time in Essaouira is coming to an end. I’ll see many of these people again in Tarifa in a week. Before that, I’m spending a week sightseeing around Morocco. The Sahara, Fes, and Chefchaouen are on the itinerary.

Surfing in the contest was incredibly fun and, as a complete amateur, gave me some interesting insights into the organization and the competition itself. I don’t know if I’ll ever surf in a contest again. Only being able to get out on the water when it’s “my turn,” constantly checking to see if the order changes, and having competitors out there—that’s not really my thing. But if you’re ever in the mood to get a taste of what a contest is like in great conditions with an awesome atmosphere at an affordable price, I can highly recommend this event! And if you make it into the top three as an amateur, you’ll get a wild card to compete as a pro the following year!

June 25, 2026 © DAILY DOSE  |  Text: Marc Frenzel  |  Fotos/Grafiken: @watermark360, Marc Frenzel  |  translation: DE