The last day of Trek America was upon us. In the evening we planned to go out for a nice meal at some San Diegan establishment but the day was to be made up of more activities.
About half the group opted for world-famous tourist attraction, SeaWorld, where you can go and get soaked with water when Shamu the killer whale does his impression of Free Willy. The other half, including myself opted for another day on the beach. It wasn’t the sand or sun that was calling me though, it was the surf..
Obviously I know absolutely nothing about surfing. A wave is a wave is a wave, but luckily Andrew is a keen surfer and can often be found in the freezing waters of the British Isles trying to ‘hang ten’ (no idea what that means). The waves speak to him on a much deeper level than they do with me. The plan was for Andrew to introduce me to said waves and give me a bit of a surfing lesson.
Cowabunga!?
We found ourselves a surf shop one block from the beach and hired our equipment. A wetsuit and a surfboard. Being someone who knows how to stand up on a surf board and steer it in his desired direction, Andrew went for some sleek looking piece of surf engineering for maximum speed and control. Me, being someone who would probably be spending more time in the water than on the board was advised to go for a board with the biggest surface area possible. It was somewhat less sleek than Andrew’s and about twice the size. As a result, carrying it under one arm whilst heading down to the beach with it was an awkward and hazardous affair. Turning corners was a real problem as you have to keep an awareness of everyone else in your turning circle (which is very big when you’re carrying such a long surfboard). Fail to do this and there was a good chance of scattering unaware passers by all over the sidewalk.
On the beach we kitted up. Naturally I put my wetsuit on back to front (zip goes on the back apparently) and also nearly dived into the waves still wearing my sunglassesd. After these two false starts though, I was finally ready to follow Andrew into the water.
“Right, all you need to do see, is wait for a wave to break, start paddling, do a press up on the board, bring your knees into your body and stand up.” Andrew said in the pre-surf briefing. I had a feeling it would be a tad harder than that.
Surfing has a horrifically steep learning curve to overcome. The first obstacle is actually getting out to the waves themselves and where they’re breaking. This means having to paddle your way through all the already broken waves that are coming towards you first. You paddle forward a bit, a wave comes, and washes you back to where you started. Either that or it wipes you out completely so that you come back up coughing and spluttering a lungful of seawater.
Make out to the area where the waves are breaking and now the challenge is to successfully ride your board, back to the shore. This is basically impossible. The first hour in the water at least, was spent waiting for a wave, waiting for a wave, here comes a wave, get ready for the wave, start paddling, press-up and SMACK. The the wave decides it’s having none of this press-up nonsense, takes the board from under your feet and hurls it over your head. Whilst this is going on you’re being dragged at it’s mercy until it gets bored and spits you out quite violently. Rinse and repeat all that about 352395692 times and that is learning to surf in a nutshell.
Whilst all this is taking place, Andrew is effortlessly gliding about the waves on his board looking how a surfer should look. He’s catching the waves a lot further out as well (more difficult) whereas i’m waiting for them to turn into ‘little waves’ a bit closer to the shore. Eventually though, all my falling off and ingestion of seawater pays off. The key, I found, is making sure you’re perfectly balanced before you even attempt the press-up bit.
Laurence Castle, Surfing USA, Take 352395693: I paddle out, the wave is coming, I begin to paddle in front of it. Just as I sense the white froth of the breaking wave behind me I double-check, ‘am I perfectly balanced?‘ the answer is a confident yes. Trying to be as smooth as possible I push myself up onto the board, tuck the knees in and plant my two feet on the enormous board. I slowly bend my knees to become more upright and hey presto i am indeed standing up, on a surfboard, in that typical surfer stance. I am the lord of the beach, king of the Californian coastline, and somewhere out there, someone is listening to the Beach Boys, and they are singing about me.
My balance isn’t that perfect and I topple off about two seconds later. But now I realise that it wasn’t as impossible as previously thought, and i’m hankering to get back out and catch my next wave. Over the next four hours there is much falling off, but this is interspersed with the very occasional ride on the crest of the wave. Whilst each succesful surf for me only lasts mere seconds, the adrenaline rush and sense of accomplishment is huge. After trying my hand at skateboarding and ‘aggressive blading’ back in my teens, and failing miserably, could it be that i’ve found my extreme sport calling?
Probably not. But at least my shins, knees and elbows remain relatively intact with surfing and you feel darn cool wandering along the seafront with your board and wetsuit, getting nods of approval from the other board riders.
The final evening was spent with a farewell group meal at an Italian restaurant called ‘Lotsa Pasta’. The food was much better than the name.
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