Rhythm of the Waves
We left our heroines in Puerto Rico, realizing that paradise isn’t perfect. They narrowly escaped fire coral, sea urchins, and being crushed by gigantic waves - and that was just the first day. Debra and I wondered if we’d ever get our surfing groove, while Maria and Christina didn’t seem to have any such qualms. Not to be deterred, we headed back to the beach, this time with a coach highly regarded in Latin America, Robert Ferrer. The ocean gods granted us smaller waves (shoulder height), so paradise was already better. I told Robert I wanted to be doing top and bottom turns, which seemed almost impossible at the time. We all paddled out, greeting new friends we’d met the previous night at Robert’s small feast and jam-fest. Robert is very practical and believes in giving small, easily digestible instructions – little things that make such a big difference. He intends to gently instill confidence. He explained when to compress (squat on the board) and where to look for a bott