Number 52: Learn to Surf

There are certain moments in life where you just have a moment. That time when you are stood, taking in a scene and promise to yourself that whatever lies in front of your eyes will never disappear from your memory. During my first day of surfing in North Devon this weekend this is exactly what happened to me. I had already had an amazing day by riding my first wave, thus ensuring me being absolutely buzzing for at least the next twenty-four hours, but that feeling was to be topped later in the evening as I surfed my first sunset on Saunton beach.

Along with three others, two who I had never met before, I made my way down to the South West for a weekend of surfing. I was joined by Chris, who I went to school with and two friends of his Jim and Rea. They were reasonably experienced surfers making the trips a few times previously in the summer months and I was the complete novice.

Arriving at a beautiful, quaint B&B in the quiet coastal village of Croyde just after midnight we were greeted by the owner and made our way to our rooms. A detached annex out the back that was reasonably soundproof, much to the relief, I am sure, of the owner. To celebrate our safe arrival (and because Chris found it lying around in the boot of his car) we opened a bottle of wine before heading to bed. With no cork screw handy, any appliance became used in an effort to get into the bottle. Eventually we settled on a spoon as the method of choice, used to push the cork all the way down the bottle and when it came to sliding the cork out of the neck into the bottle, red wine spurted out all over my face and covering the once white walls and ceiling. It was not a good start. After a military operation to remove the wine, mostly by poor Rea, it was a drain of our glasses a slightly tipsy sing song and off to bed in preparation of surfing the next day.

We awoke, slightly groggy to sun pouring in through the thin blinds and made our way down to the beach. I had no clue what to expect and what were good waves but was informed by Jim and Chris that the lines steaming into the beach were a good thing- I was yet to be convinced. After a very quick lesson on the surfing basics it was into the water to attempt this skill I have wanted to do for so long. The wetsuits we hired were a godsend as the Atlantic Ocean in mid-September is not quite as exotic or warm as some of the other Surfing hotspots around the world.

My first session of surfing was perhaps the most frustrating few hours in my life. Being a highly competitive person I get extremely irate if I am not able to do something straight away. Luckily I had Rea, as well as Chris and Jim at some intervals, ensuring me that it does take time to master as wave and wave came into crash me off my foam board. Shortly before our lunch break I felt I was getting ever closer to mastering it and knew that my first wave was not far away.

My optimism was to have some grounding after lunch as I latched myself onto a wave, glided along and miraculously found my feet as the wave continued to take me along. I lifted my hands in the air, calling for anyone to witness my magnificent achievement and was celebrating so much that another wave came crashing towards me and knocked me clean into the water. It is a strange thing about surfing, and given that riding that wave now gives me the right to speak about it, is that there is very little in the sport that will top the feeling of when you catch that first wave- for a good twenty minutes I was screaming at the top of my lungs in celebration. Although catching a nine-foot, tunnel wave like they do on the TV, I imagine, gives a pretty good sense of achievement. But that sense of achievement and surrealism was topped later in the evening when we went back to surf the beach at sunset.

Although I had grasped the whole surfing concept reasonably well at this point, my cockiness ensured that the odd wave took me under. I emerged from one of those, mouth filled with salt water rubbing my eyes to find the moon breaking out behind the cliffs inland. The moon was not quite full but not too far off and it was beginning to become more prominent in the perfectly blue sky. I turned a full ninety degrees at this moment out to sea just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving a strange but beautiful purple hazy colour. It was at that moment that I had to stop myself and take in the stunning scene around me. As I stood taking in this magnificent moment, a huge wave came over head and dragged me under- it felt like some cheap shot from God.

There is something about going away that fills this urge to drink. Luckily Saturday night did not turn into a heavy night, thanks to the local pub The Thatch chucking us out at midnight, but if it wasn’t for that it could well have been a heavy night. Nonetheless we arose bright and early Sunday morning, once again, with hazy eyes and heavy heads to more beautiful blues skies. While the original plan was to be up and on the beach by eight-thirty the hangover ensured that we didn’t reach the beach until an hour or so later. More surfing continued, as my experience ensured I progressed but my relatively unfounded cockiness ensured that natures waves kept me in shape every now and then, before returning to the B&B for some food. After a short rest - two hours later we woke in our beds after what was supposed to be a brief ‘power nap’ it was back out onto the water for one last surfing session. Due to the great waves brought on this day both Saunton and Croyde beaches were full to bursting point so we found a quieter beach just a few miles further along the coast. Putsborough beach was slightly more enclosed than the other beaches, with rocks and cliffs running along the left hand side but the waves coming in were much stronger than any we had experienced all weekend.

When nature can rain an endless blow of waves down on you and all your response canbe is try and come up for air before the next wave comes crashing in it can lead to you feeling incredibly insignificant. On Putsborough beach during our final afternoon of surfing this was exactly how I felt. I managed to catch a couple of waves but the majority of my afternoon was spent coming up for air and then being dragged back under by another, sometimes stronger wave.

Back in the safety and warmth of my own home it is certainly something I am proud of attempting and hope to get into more whilst travelling the world next year. My belief that I am a complete natural at this sport took a large blow on Sunday afternoon as the bigger waves completely defeated me. Looking at some internet clips of the pros riding four, even five foot waves knocked me back even further but it is certainly something I will aim towards, if not perhaps achieve.