I had only ever been surfing once in my life at the age of
twelve with a school activities trip, we had gone to Fistral Beach in Newquay
for an hour lesson. Unfortunately, the instructors had informed us that the
surf wasn’t very good and that we may not get chance to catch any substantial
waves as the sea was very calm. That was fine by me as a 4 foot 6 runt of the
litter who could barely swim, never mind surf. I remember dragging my 8 foot
board (that’s right, almost twice my size) into the sea to experience the most
terrifying hour of my life. With fifteen or so other children there, the 3
instructors couldn’t watch us all, so it took about 10 minutes for one of them
to notice my mangled body being thrown around by the little waves. I managed to
lie on my board once or twice, but after about 45 minutes I was very tired and
too nervous to face to the onslaught of the water anymore. I returned to the safety
of my teachers and my asthma inhaler.
But 8 years later as I walked out onto Perranporth Beach in
my mum’s 1980s short sleeved wetsuit, I was feeling more optimistic this time.
If anything I felt as though if I drowned, Ed would notice pretty soon and come
fish me out by my collar. My friend and surf instructor for the day, Ed, is my
opposite in height, looming over me like a skyscraper at 6 foot so could
probably pull me to safety with his crane like arms. However, in the last 8 years,
I had also managed to grow an inch every year, so now I at a colossal 5 foot 3 no
waves could stand in my way.
Ed had told me that today was supposed to be one of the most
perfect days for surfing as the conditions were great- not too choppy and
perfect for beginners- so I was ready. We waded out into the sea, I noticed the
look from all of the others surfers as they admired my neon pink and black
wetsuit. With the words ‘Ocean Force’ on the front, they all knew that it was
about to go down. I was borrowing Ed’s 6 foot board, which I was told wasn’t
the best to learn on, because it’s near impossible to get off your stomach if
you were a beginner, but I was determined to tame the waves and be the best
surfer ever (well at least get on my knees).
Once I had managed to flop my body weight onto the poor defenceless
board and paddle manically I soon got used to the taste of sea water, as the
waves passed over my head. But after some practise, my hard work paid off and I
caught my first wave. The rush of moving with the wave, an untameable essence
that lets you ride along with it was incredible. I could finally understand why
you see surfers talking about the ocean like it was a person that they were in
love with, I felt like I could write a sonnet about my first wave (Beatrice)
right then and there.
After I had ridden a few magnificent waves lying on my
stomach, I felt as though I should try and stand on one now. I watched Ed do it
and it seemed near impossible. His tall slender frame, although gangly seemed
to glide along the waves, I just couldn’t imagine my stump of a body doing the
same. But I tried, and failed, numerous times, I had even tried the technique
Ed used of balancing by turning your hand into a monkey claw, but to no avail.
Gangly Ed with the white board I borrowed
I received some hefty thumps in the leg, which soon turned into big black
bruises, which definitely occurred when a shark appeared out of nowhere and I
fought it off with my bare hands.
We had been there in
the sea for 3 hours now and our bodies were beginning to give up but I was
determined. Then right near the end, I managed to catch a beautiful wave and
get to my knees, worshipping it all the way into the beach. It wasn’t standing
but I saw it as a triumph!
And even now as I slave away serving people their lunch, I
look out of the window at the ocean and vow to get back on that board and be embraced
by my new friend, the sea once more.
P.S. Unfortunately, there was no documented footage of me in my one of a kind wetsuit, but maybe next time readers.
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