Surfing in Jaco Costa Rica
My stomach is in a whole tangled mess of unmanageable knots and I am not quite sure why I’m nervous…I grew up near the Atlantic ocean, I love jumping over and under the waves as they crash overhead and head towards the shore; throw a surfboard into the mix, however, and it somehow feels very different. Excitement and nerves clashing together, becoming indistinguishable from one another. The anticipation of learning something new, accepting it may be challenging but persisting nonetheless.
After two days of unsuccessful attempts at surfing, I was dying to catch my first wave. Despite my initial apprehensions, I was confident that with the guidance of a professional teacher I would find success. Not to insinuate that Brandon, my unofficial teacher during my first two attempts at surfing, wasn’t doing a swell job…but, in the end, a trained professional with years of surfing and teaching experience would have better results. What’s the sign I’ve seen at many a ski resort…? oh yea…“Friends don’t let friends teach friends”. The same can be said for surfing! I was due for a new teacher and my first official surf lesson with Anna in Costa Rica.
We approached the surf shop by car but had to slow down as the way was blocked by a woman riding a longboard. She was tall and tan with blonde hair that had been bleached by many hours spent in the sun. She was making long and wide turns; leading with her shoulders as if she was surfing a concrete wave. Javier, the gentleman who had driven us down to the south end of the beach where the waves were kinder, informed me that this was Anna, my surf instructor. Anna greeted me with a warm smile. It was a beautiful clear day and despite it being the height of the rainy season we had yet to see any rain today. The season meant the water was not crowded by other beginners and I hardly had to compete for space or worry about accidentally bumping into someone or having them bumping into me.
The sun burned brightly into our eyes as we waded into the water after practicing our pop-ups on land. Anna shielded her eyes with her hands and squinted out at the ocean, patiently waiting for the thunderous clap and crash of a wave that had enough power to allow me to safely practice popping up on the board in the whitewash that followed. Her presence alone made me feel 100% more confident. Repeatedly, we’d pushed out into the waves up to our chests. Battling against each surge I’d occasionally make my way out deep enough only to be carried back towards shore by the immense force of a wave. It could be a discouraging moment, the realization that I’d been pushed back to where I had started, and much more tired than I was initially…Nonetheless, I’d set out again in pursuit of catching a wave that had yet to appear but that I trusted was on its way.
The lesson progressed and I could feel my confidence growing. I came alive with each approaching wave and Anna shouting “paddle! paddle! paddle!”. A surge would follow, carrying my board forward which signaled it was time to place my hands by my chest, push up, plant my feet, focus my eyes on the direction I wanted to go and enjoy the ride.
As our lesson approached its end the sky burned red above us as it made its slow descent towards the horizon. My muscles ached and I could feel bruises forming on my knees and rib cage. I couldn’t help but smile. Exhaustion was settling but childlike joy coursed through me begging for just one more wave.
