Take It From a Novice

“Catch a wave and you’ll be sittin’ on top of the world.” That Beach Boys line sums up the feeling that can accompany a sweet ride down the line. Behind that experience, however, lurks a whole set of behaviors and lessons that, together, enable one to ride a wave. Many of these lessons are not really taught at surf school or camp, yet they must be learned.

In some respects, I’m offering a “top 10” list of lessons. But my list isn’t the standard list of surfing tips. There’s no “three steps to popping up” lesson here. Instead, I offer what seem to me to be pretty important “larger” lessons about learning to surf, only some of which you’ll encounter in surf lessons.

Dismiss my lessons as off-base, echo them by offering your own take, or dig deeper to add sub-lessons.

I rode my first “official” waves on Father’s Day this year. Over the next 90 days, I spent roughly 175 hours in the water, paddling around, paddling into waves, popping up, wiping out, and riding waves. Truth be told, I’m fudging a bit because I tried to surf in late 2013 and stood up a few times. But I had my first “sittin’ on top of the world” experience on Father’s Day.

Since then, I’ve been in the water to surf at dawn, dark, sunset, and midday, ridden at high, mid, and low tide, paddled into one-foot ankle biters on flat days and head-high breaks with onshore breezes and chop. On many days, I have been in the water twice: at dawn and after dinner. I’m still very much a novice (kook?), but I’m learning every time I’m around a board.

One: Repair is Part of Surfing.

If you ride, you will ding your board. Your board is your tool. If you’re afraid to ding that custom shaped and tinted longboard, hang it on the wall.

Learn how to handle at least the basic repairs on your own. This will save money. More importantly, it strengthens your relationship with your board as you come to know the nose, the rail, and the tail, the glass, the color, and the foam, and the ways that each part contributes to the overall function of the tool. Doing the repair yourself probably means you’ll be back in the water sooner than if you put the board in the shop. And time spent fixing your dings helps you appreciate the value of making good choices when you’re in the water.

There are exceptions. Color-matching tints, fin box repairs, and major damage are probably best handled by those who repair boards for a living.

Two: Surfing is about Work and Rest.

Surfing is as much about back, neck, arm, and abdomen strength as it is about balance and timing.

Most of your surf time is spent paddling: out, in, around, over, slowly, quickly, powerfully. And the whole time, you’re arching your back a bit, holding your head off the board to look around and see what’s coming. Surf and you will be sore. Surf regularly and you will get stronger.

Paddling out past the shore breaks on anything but the smallest days will fatigue you, and committed paddling into a wave will drain you a bit. On many occasions, I have come close to catching a wave, immediately tried to nab the next one, and found myself lacking that final punch needed to get into the wave.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, rest in the lineup is good for both social relations and muscle recovery. Take a wave when your mind, body, and spirit are ready to commit.

Three. Like a Good Tool, a Surfboard can be a Weapon.

My longboard, plus the leash, puts any other person within a twenty-foot radius in danger if I lose control.

If my twenty-five pound log hits someone as it approaches the limit of my leash, the situation could get very ugly – and fast. (And I’m not talking about damage to the board, which could also be ugly.)

So I try to surf where I’m less of a danger to others. In a crowded line up, find me off to the side a bit. Does it cost me the best waves? Sometimes. Do I need the overhead surf when there are plenty of chest high waves to be had down the beach? No.

Four. Longboards are Versatile.

The longboard has an effective range that includes 90% of the surf most of us encounter. They don’t do as well when the surf gets much over about five feet. Depending on the break, of course, a longboard is more prone to pearling on a drop in as the wave gets larger – and steeper. I know that some can ride overhead surf on a longboard. I’ve even done it. Paddle in early on a more gentle break and it’s a lot of fun.

But I’ve also pearled so badly on chest and head high surf that I feared the nose of my board hit bottom. This leaves me scrambling to search for the damage while trying not to get pounded by the next wave.

The flipside is that you can have a great session in two-foot surf on a longboard, and you’ll probably have the surf mostly to yourself.

Five. End on a Nice Ride and the Feeling Lingers.

As a novice, I can only guess that this is what it means to be “stoked” after a session.

It’s not always possible to end on such a high note, but it is truly wonderful when it happens. The hard paddle out, the wipeouts, the missed waves, and cool chill of a flushed wetsuit all drop away as your entire being tingles from the experience of that last ride.

Six. Your Board Can Be a Danger to You.

Foam is soft but the hard fiberglass coating that makes it a durable wave machine can leave a nasty lump on your head or bruise (or even break) a limb. Get clobbered and a concussion is most definitely not out of the question. It’s no fun being dazed and clawing for your board as the surf seems to want to drown you. I’m nursing two nasty scrapes on the shin of my back leg, and all I did was lose my footing and bang my leg on the tail of my board while dropping into a wave.

Those fins that hold your line and help you control turns are really knife-like objects just under your back foot. Slip off in the wrong way at the wrong time and you can quickly start leaking hemoglobin. I sliced the ball of my foot on a fin back in mid-July; the skin has grown back, thankfully, but I’m acutely aware of that scar-knot every time I use the ball of my foot to turn the board.

Seven. Board shorts and Surf Shirts are Functional Attire.

Surf shorts aren’t a rebellion against the Speedo. Surf wax works a bit like hot wax applied to the chest or legs, but it works more slowly and less effectively. Surf in shorts and no shirt, and the wax will remove the hair from your chest and the insides of your legs. I wear board shorts and I still have a smooth “wax job” where my legs straddle the board.

Eight. Dawn Patrol on the East Coast is Wonderful.

Rise in the dark, hit the water as dawn breaks on the horizon, and have the Atlantic all (or mostly) to yourself.

There’s a quiet camaraderie in the wee morning hours, especially when the surf is average. It can be early morning mayhem when the break is firing, but most days are truly wonderful.

This is not unlike any morning exercise routine. The committed (and those who perhaps should be committed) are out doing their thing. They do it for themselves. And there’s a lot to be said for a day that includes surf, stoke, and work, all in that order.

Nine. Night surfing.

Surfing after sunset is really, really fun. But I don’t recommend it unless the moon is out. It’s just too hard to see the waves, to time your paddle, and even to tell what you’re riding once you’re on the wave. Put these elements together and you have a recipe for missed waves and wipeouts that are more likely to produce injuries. The only time I really clocked my head on my board was at night. I couldn’t see anything.

But clear skies and a full moon can make for a great session.

Ten. Surfing is One of the Hardest Things to Learn.

Every component of the surfing experience is moving, and it requires a whole portfolio of skills: balance, weight distribution, specific fitness, timing, position on the board and in the wave, and much, much more.

The “ground” shifts underneath you, changes from break to break, day to day, and wave to wave. Subtle positioning on the board can mean the difference between catching the wave, pearling, or not getting into the wave. Getting it right on one wave is no assurance that you’ll get it right on the next one. And getting into the wave is only the beginning.

The popup demands fluidity, speed, and precision in timing, position, and balance. Once up, fore, aft, and side-to-side movements must be calibrated to the size, shape, and speed of the wave, as well as to your position on the wave. And turning the board introduces a whole new set of variables to the equation, each of which must be calibrated on the fly if you’re not to bury the rail, sink the nose, fall off the side, or worse.

Like anything, though, practice brings gains. The gains come in very small increments, may not be immediately replicable given the shifting surf conditions, and will include considerable backsliding along the way.

But those small gains are all the more pleasurable because they are so hard to make.