Perils of Surfing

"How hard could it be?" Ha! Turns out, it's pretty hard. Soon enough, I had discovered that negotiating the waves with a big board is nothing like floating or swimming through them mermaid-style.

It reminded me of when I was learning to ski: I'd been so excited until the first tumble down the mountain. At 10 years old, I was both frightened and excited. Fast-forward 40+ years and I was in for some new tumbles - and still super excited.

Unlike skiing or any other sport, surfing is connecting with a moving power source: the wave. This power is both frightening and exhilarating.

The optimal power-point of the wave is right where it's breaking.  Here, every molecule from the top of the wave to the sand is a big, turning, horizontal column of water.  If it remains open, it's called a “barrel”.

The waves I surf aren't big enough to create barrels, which means: all water & no air. Getting caught up in the churn is called being in the "washing machine." While I'm there, I'm turning with the water and don't know where the surface is or when I'll find it. Even though it's only for a few seconds, it feels like I'm holding my breath longer.

The chances of getting caught up the washing machine go way up while surfing because you’re trying to pop up as it breaks.

I also learned about the dreaded nose-dive, also called pearling. The term "pearling" comes from "pearl diving." The surfing term has nothing to do with actually diving for pearls. It's an ego-defeating wipe-out where the nose of your board gets stuck in the wave; you slide headfirst off the board and get a face full of water. To make matters worse, the board shoots up in the air, coming down in the vicinity of your head, which can be dangerous.

In my excitement, I hadn't anticipated all the salt-water drama. One little misstep, hesitation or mistake resulted in a WIPEOUT!! I often emerged from a session with bruises not knowing how I got them.

To add insult to injury, little children out-surfed me.

I rode very few waves in the early days. Some of the waves I did catch were already broken, which wouldn't considered REAL surfing by any surfer worth her salt. 😁😁

I had rightfully earned the title of a beginner or "Kook," the Hawaiian word for "Shit." 😕

So why do this, if it's this hard? Because catching a wave is awesome! During that moment, everything disappears; it's just the wave and me. Being able to ride the wave, all the way into the shore, and play with it on the way, gives me a sense of inexplicable freedom. In the early days, the one ride I’d catch all day was worth all the pearling and washing machines I'd experienced.

Ironically, I was simultaneously addicted, frustrated and fearful. I was driven to ride more waves
but I had been beaten up by them so often, that every time I entered the ocean, I had a knot in my
stomach. I had a lot to learn and a constraining fear to overcome.

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