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An Account of 1 Woman Learning
to Surf
Late
October of 1984, my boyfriend,
Chuck, and I had our very first
surfing experience together.
We were in college at the time.
He was a music major and myself
- physical education. We'd talk
for hours, roaming about the
campus. He'd been a surfer since
he was 12 years old and quite
the natural (as on his first
day he stood up, riding white
water all the way to the beach).
He would tell me of deep green
tubes, being totally surrounded
by water, truly inside the wave.
Jumping off the pier, surfing
big hurricane swells that created
walls of water with 15 foot
faces. I felt his enthusiasm
and being more of a participant
than spectator, I just had to
learn. I had seen surfers gliding
effortlessly across the waves
in their soulful dance with
the sea. It was so beautiful
and contagious to me and now
I had a perfect teacher.
I had ventured out to sea, with
board, once before. Tethered
to a bungi leash, the first
wipe out provided me with the
first lesson - ditch the bungi.
The board sprung back to my
left cheekbone with such fortitude
that I barely knew what hit
me. I gave blood that day.
On this particular and crisp
October day, Chuck handed me
the top of an old diving suit
that seemed to be a little too
small. I squished myself into
it and he zipped up the front
which promptly forced my 2 size
A's up to my chin. We've laughed
about that for years. I don't
remember much else about that
session except that surfing
was not going to be easy to
learn and perhaps lesson # 2
- the wetsuit needs to fit.
I didn't surf again until the
next summer. Purchased an inexpensive
body board and played with it
for about 2 weeks before acquiring
my first surf board. The surf
board was a hefty single fin.
A pintail with wingers and a
pot leaf on the nose. However,
the body board provided a few
lessons, one in particular about
going over the falls and where
not to be. Somehow I managed
to get on top of the wave before
it pitched. The wave lifted
me and I was higher up than
before. I was amazed by a most
spectacular view of the beach
and the ocean before me. Then
it happened - I was pitched,
tumbled and treated most unmercifully
by the sea. But I was hooked.
The remainder of the summer
progressed in like fashion.
I'd go surfin', take a good
lickin' for about 15 or 20 minutes,
go in and try again later. Chuck
surfed with me a lot. He was
(and still is) a marvelous teacher.
Extremely patient and encouraging,
he would only give me what I
could handle - 1 or 2 pointers
at a time that could be directly
applied to the situation. I
was blessed to have such a teacher.
I also surfed with a girlfriend
who was my co-worker at a small
cafe and was a beginning surfer.
One day we paddled out in big
conditions but gentle enough
to allow our presence. She and
I sat bobbing on the outside
as swells rolled in slowly.
Neither of us took off on anything
but agreed how wonderful it
was to be sitting there surrounded
by the ocean's beauty, enjoying
her inhabitants, energy, and
rhythym - even though we weren't
catching any waves.
The very next spring, June of
1986, Chuck and I married and
spent our honeymoon camping
and surfing at Sebastian Inlet.
That was where I learned the
bikini lesson. I had been surfing
for almost 1 year (with the
exception of winter, since I
had not a wetsuit) with skills
progressing at a snails pace.
One wave provided me with such
a thrashing that it took my
bikini as a consolation prize.
Did I mention the crowd? Lesson
# 100 and some thing - a 1 piece
is best for learning. Of course
today there are several alternatives
to the bikini that are very
functional and allows one to
maintain some degree of modesty.
To this day, I still tend to
choose the 1 piece for challenging
surf but have found that the
more I "gracefully agree" with
the ocean and go with her flow,
the more she allows me to keep
my bikini intact. And to this
day, I am still challenged by
the sea, learning lessons, thankful
to be enjoying her beauty and
energy, never bored, always
fit and anxiously awaiting my
next surf session.
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