Health and Fitness Magazine

Wave Hello

I was surfing a few weeks ago, sitting in front of my computer with a cup of coffee, when I happened upon the news that Plymouth University was introducing a new - surf science and technology.  But this was surfing of the active kind.  Sport, art form, lifestyle – surfing can be any of these, and at its best, all three, said the prospectus, going on to describe modules as diverse as tides and beaches, human biology and surf-event management.  I didn’t have three years to spare, but I liked the idea of qualifying as a surfie chick, so I called Surf South West in Croyde, North Devon, for advice.

“Get yourself down here, we’ll have you up on your feet within a day," said the instructor Darren Burrett, confidently.  “You’ll love it."  He was right.  I went for the weekend and stayed a week.  And I did learn to surf in a day.

10:30am Darren and Justin pull up outside the surf shack in a Baywatch-style yellow Land Rover, complete with surfboards strapped on the roof.  Within minutes, I’m grappling with a damp, chilly wet suit and presented with an enormous surfboard.  This is a swell board – the equivalent of L-plates in the surfing world.  “Anyone who sees you with that knows you’re a beginner and will keep out of your way," grins Darren.

11am I head down to the waters edge, surfboard tucked under my arm.  But it’s not time for the ocean yet.  Instead, we lie on our boards in a semicircle around Darren while he runs through the anatomy of the surfboard.  The Swell boards are foam, so if they donk you or someone else on the head, it shouldn’t hurt.  Darren tells us where to position ourselves on the board to prevent nose-diving or stalling.  We learn how to paddle (front-crawl arms, not butterfly), and finally he shows us how to get up on our feet.  The textbook jump from lying to standing looks effortless, but the difficulty with which I achieve this on the beach doesn’t bode well for a choppy sea.  So Darren shows me an easier way.  Instead of effectively combining a press-up with a squat thrust, you slide on to your knees, then lift one foot up and push up into the familiar surfer pose: one leg forward, one back, knees bent.

11:30am Head awash with do’s and don’ts I’m ready for the real thing.  Justin tells me to stick to waist-deep water, as it’s easier to swing around and climb on to the board.  Going “out the back", beyond where the waves break is not for newcomers.  On this stormy, grey day the sea is rough and, with a strong current and a relentless surge of white water, getting out there is hard enough, let alone coming back.  “You’ve go to show who’s boss," says Justin, as I spit out half the Atlantic.  “Don’t jump over the waves as they hit you, jump into them, otherwise you’ll be back on the beach."  Throwing myself into the waves, I finally turn my board shorewards and, picking my wave (look for a nice even line of white water), I start to paddle frantically.  The wave hits, the board lifts and surges forward.  It’s such a thrill that I forget to even try to stand up and before I know it I’m practically on the beach.

12pm I’m getting to grips with choosing the good waves now, and I’m up to a one-knee stance.  It’s an exhausting business – just staying in one place takes all my leg strength; battling against the current, paddling and attempted standing manoeuvres are like a months worth of press-ups, squats and back extensions rolled into one.  Come to think of it, did you ever see a fat surfer?  As technique and morale wane, we break for lunch.

1:30pm Nicely warmed with mugs of tea, it’s a tough task to get back in the water.  But I’m determined and time’s running out.  I catch a wave, slide my knees forward and, suddenly, I’m on my feet.  I can hardly believe it.

2pm I’m hooked.  I paddle for a wave, it’s a big one, the board moves fast and instinctively, I grip on.  I look down and see the Swell logo in front of my eyes.  Justin’s words reverberate in my head: position yourself well below the logo.  If you can read Swell, it’s the last thing you’ll see before you hit the bottom.  Too late, I am ejected headfirst towards the sandy floor.  When I surface, spluttering and muttering, Justin say’s: “Don’t get angry at the waves.  The minute you start doing that, you loose it.  Just take it easy."  Surfing philosophy in a nutshell.

A week later, I’ve lost my L-plates and progressed to a real surfboard.  The soreness in my wrists, triceps, shoulders and chest has gone (just).  I’m covered in bruises from ill-timed clashes with my fibreglass friend, but I’m having the time of my life.  Best of all, despite far too many cream teas, I haven’t put on a single pound.

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