On January 10th something big happened, I got a taste for something that wasn’t alcoholic or vegan. I attempted surfing.
Sat in the garden a few days previously, a lovely Kiwi gal offered me her wetsuit to go with the lads for a surf at Sumner Beach. As someone with generally terrible balance and with no solid recreational sport for the last 5 years of my life – except the gym – I had initially put myself forward for a laugh, expecting to fail miserably. And initially it was just that, I took the pithy bodyboard out while the big boys got up on their boards, but soon after the guys took pity on me and Aaron showed me the basics of the board and catching a wave.
Was I incredible? No. Did I faceplant? yes, many times. Did I swallow a lot of salt water? fuck yes. Did I manage to stand? YES, and even just at the crouched level that I was, I stood for a solid few seconds – and the feeling? It was bloody fucking phenomenal. I wouldn’t manage much more than that single stand but it was enough to trigger something – I wanted to try it again and again and get good.
The last time I had put myself forward for a recreational sport had been Hockey try-outs in my first year of university and the experience was, in a word; awful. Horse girls get a bad reputation for being bitchy/posh and rightfully so, but I truly believe that Hockey Girls are actually the worst. Surfing hadn’t been like this at all, everyone was so chill at my newbie status and sympathised with the falls and the muck-ups, because ultimately everyone on the board fell off eventually. And where swallowing saltwater was a universal outcome for all involved, I had nothing to feel embarrassed about.
With an abundance of boards available in the flat I decided then and there to buy a wetsuit of my own with my fourth pay – gbye saving goals. But heck has it been worth it. Since then I’ve managed to go at least once a week, getting better and better and trying new boards/beaches. This has been more wholesome than mishap, and I’m aware that if you’re here you’re likely partly interested in my mistakes more so than the successes – you sick bastards – but there have been some incredible falls. On one particularly choppy day I swallowed more saltwater than air and almost gave up. The waves were huge and I could hardly get out from being battered down and flipped over. On one wave I was flipped off the board in a way that saw my legs fully in the air and head under water and on another occasion I was pushed backwards at some pace for an age, eventually being spun forward to the point that I could stand for one sweet second.
Aside from this the moments between paddling for a wave and paddling out to the waves, when I’m just sat on the board under the sun and it’s just quiet – I feel peaceful and fucking majestic tbh. I’m aware its very basic white bitch comes to NZ/AUS and suddenly loves surfing -but call me a cliche because I have a recreational sport that I LIKE!
Fu***ing off; a personal tale of travels, triumphs and travesties. 