Learn to surf. It’s one of those I’ll-get-to-it-someday life goals that feels good just to think about. It’s refreshing just to imagine warm surf against your chest or the sunshine heat warming your shoulders and cheeks. And surfers– the ones what actually know what they’re doing–display as much grace as a humanly possible when slicing through the waves. Much like a concert violinist and the beginning student learning to tune the instrument, a professional baseball player and a kid breaking in his first mitt, there is a great distance between the novice and the pro, but it’s a distance that can be crossed. Just one step at a time. And my first step was at my introductory surf lesson in Pacific Beach.
Surfing called to me softly and sporadically over the years. I enjoy the climates where surfers surf and appreciate the approach to life often espoused by those of the surfing order. I’d thought about learning to surf for so long I didn’t know if it was really something I wanted or something I thought I should want. As if I wanted to be the type of person who at least wanted to learn how to surf. Whatever the motivation, it sounded exciting and scary and new. My confidence was bolstered by my friend, Caty, who was also down to take her first surf lesson. So we took the plunge and signed up.
The day’s classroom
We headed for Pacific Beach to meet with our instructor, Erik: a ginger bearded bloke from Belgium who’d surfed just about everywhere. Belgium, South Africa, both coasts of the U.S. He was very chill, as one would expect, and helped us with the first step of selecting and donning our wetsuits. You don’t wear much underneath a wetsuit, sliding it on like a second skin. The sea was choppy and the wind blowing, so I felt trepidation that this thin layer of neoprene would prove a sufficient barrier between me and the ocean chill. But I must say, the wetsuit is a marvel of modern maritime technology. And it was invented right in California all the way back in 1952. It provides more warmth than you know, especially if you’re heating up by crashing your way to and through waves.
With Erik sitting in front of us with his shades on and hoodie pulled tight around his face, we spent the first 20 or so minutes on the beach learning the different parts of the surfboard and the basic ideas of catching a wave. “First you catch the wave, then the wave catches you.” said Erik, explaining the yin-yang-type balance between surfer and surf. Though he gave us a few more mechanics about where to position ourselves on the board and how to push ourselves up, there wasn’t much more instruction than catch the wave, then be caught yourself.
Feeling the sun, hearing the roar
After a few more bits of explanation–like leaning forward on your board once you’re standing (a very hopeful bit of instruction, I thought) and wanting to feel a bit like you’re constantly falling downhill, he lead us to the waves.
We figured out when to get on, the moment to start paddling, when to stop paddling and push down, and then how to continue pushing down to ride the wave into shore. Absolute fun! Despite experiencing the same water-swallowing, wave slapping, and tumbing under surf that I’d heard from previous surfing novices, it was awesome. It was tough to get out into the waves and then into a lane with enough time to catch a wave. At one point, the waves were coming so frequently we couldn’t even spin the board around fast enough to point it ashore before the next wave was upon me. After a few minutes of trying to struggle with the timing, Erik simply suggest we just move down the beach to a different equal and work with that sandbar. No problem. It was one of the many times when Erik and his surf philosophy provide the simple answer to a problem I was making much harder than it needed to be.
Hanging loose post-lesson with my friend, Caty
We surfed for about two hours. It was tiring, especially when you would paddle forward five feet only to have the sea pick you up and deposit you seven feet back toward the shore. Digging in didn’t help. The ocean is stronger than you. Instead, as Erik and his easy-going approach taught me, jumping up in place and riding the wave back down proved the best way to avoid losing ground. Don’t fight problem. Ride the problem out. The ocean did slap my left ear with a *pop*, depositing some water deep enough in the canal that it remains this day, one week later, despite the application of swimmer’s ear drops, a hair dryer, and multiple bumps of the palm to the temple. But all in all no pain.
I look forward to renting a board and practicing what I learned and was sure to ask Erik for some pointers before we left. Erik shared the following wisdom:
Study the sea first, then pick where you want to go. But don’t wait too long.
Find your wave and just go for it.
If there are too many people, just ride farther down the beach to another spot. And there’s always another spot.
Stop when you’re stoked. We always wanna be stoked when we stop.
I’m tempted to draw some heavy-handed comparisons between the surfer’s words and life, I don’t think Erik would approve of burdening these ideas with too much weight. Then again, Erik probably wouldn’t care. He’s just cruising down the shore, looking for the next wave.
Inspired to visit the California Surfing Museum in Oceanside, CA
Mostly a collection of various surfboards, but I did snag a cool sticker. So, I got that going for me.
