As a professional surfer, Dayyan Neve seldom finds himself more than a dozen yards from a palm tree, a tropical ocean or a girl in a bikini. So far this year he has felt the caress of warm waters in Brazil, Hawaii, Australia and California.

So what on earth was he doing in gale-lashed Thurso at 6.30am last Wednesday morning, wading into a raging sea that was barely seven degrees above freezing, without a beach babe in sight? Unlikely as it might seem, Thurso has just broken into the surfing big league. Neve is one of 130 surfers from all over the globe taking part in the O’Neill Highland Open, the most prestigious surfing competition held in Scotland and the latest addition to the world professional surfing circuit.

At 59 degrees north, it is the most northerly world-class surfing tournament ever held, and it is proving something of a culture and climate shock for all concerned.

Neve, a 28-year-old from Sydney, Australia, was just finishing his heat when the hail storm hit late on Wednesday morning. Lumps of ice the size of large peas pebble-dashed him and assorted Brazilians and South Africans on Thurso’s rocky shore. The reaction on most of their faces was a stricken combination of bemusement and horror.

“I just stood there and started laughing,” says Neve, now safely wrapped up in layers of designer board gear and looking out over the waves through aviator shades. “I couldn’t stop, I thought it was so funny. Surfing in hailstones. That’s a first for me, definitely.”

We all think we know what surfing is. It might be the opening sequence of Hawaii Five-O. Or the cover of The Beach Boys’ greatest hits. It is the smell of Ambre Solaire. It is certainly not the whiff of manure on a muddy Caithness farm, near a dozy Scottish town best known for its proximity to the Dounreay nuclear research plant.

Perched on a clifftop overlooking the shore near the ruins of Thurso Castle is the travelling circus of the World Qualifying Series (WQS). Judges, sponsors, organisers, underwater cameramen and competitors stand in tented shelters and mobile catering vans, sipping steaming cups of “Bad Boy red pepper and chilli” soup.

Designer stubble or wispy brown beards seem to be compulsory for the men, as do expensive oversized sunglasses and 1980s blonde highlights. Glamorous Dutch women in Puffa jackets sashay past, carrying clipboards.

Large flags bearing the sponsors’ names have just been taken down because the flagpoles were bending horizontal in the wind. A hundred yards away, four surfers are making the most of their 25-minute heat, trying to catch one of the slate-grey rolling waves for which Thurso is famed.

Their moves look picture- perfect, catching a crest and then leaping upright with one movement, riding the board along a 16ft-high wall of icy water. A commentary relayed through loudspeakers by a growl-voiced American is gibberish to the uninitiated. The surfers attempt a “front-side tail-slide” or “hold tight to a bronco”; they “snap off the top back into the pocket” or “kick out into the channel”.

The man who has brought the WQS to Thurso is Bernhard Ritzer, a laid-back 38-year-old Dutchman who is events manager for the main sponsor, O’Neill Europe, the maker of surfing gear.

To guarantee a good turnout he has put up $100,000 (£56,000) in prize money, making the Highland Open the second-richest tournament of the 15 held so far this year in the WQS.

In a mobile office buffeted by wind he explains that the cold is part of the appeal. “It’s definitely extreme,” he says, “but part of surfing is exploring new territory. This is the same as finding a new corner of Tahiti.

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