Ugh, it's been three months since I last posted. I'm lame. Sorry.
I have a peculiar problem.
I love anything and everything about the ocean, but I'm terrified of large waves.
So, of course, when my family went to learn how to surf a few years back, I did not participate.
Well, for the first day anyways.
But after seeing and hearing how much fun they were having, I decided "don't knock it 'till you try it, right?"
And surf I did.
Eeeh, let's back up a little.
That summer, there was a surf camp in my childhood beach town of Cayucos, California. Since it was free, my family totally jumped on board. Surf boards and wetsuits were rented, for everyone but me. Adamant that I was too terrified to try, I simply didn't. I thought I was perfectly content to stay on shore and splash around in the wet sand. Well, I watched them. I watched them try, I watched them fail, but most of all, I watched them succeed. I decided it looked fun, and then they came back and told me how thrilling and easy it was, I knew I had to add it to my repertoire of things I've done.
My wetsuit was rented, and I joined the surf camp.
Now, when learning to surf, you don't simply get on a surfboard and start surfing. Oh no. You learn the techniques on land, first! Here's how you paddle, here's how you stand up, here's this, here's that, don't do this, don't do that, etc, etc.
After paddling all over the place and getting nowhere but a bunch of sand in my suit, it was finally time to give it a go. I had to face my fear. As a very small, at the time not yet fully grown (but still small as fully grown), human being attempting to conquer the greatest power known to earth, I had to bring my father along. We waded out until the ocean was rocking up against my chest and I mounted that big yellow board. I sat, getting used to the feel of the power, doom, and death frolicking under my butt. But then it came.
The swell, the mound, the terror came ripping through the blue liquid, and as instructed, I lay down on my belly. With a push from my father, I began paddling, racing the wave. Of course, I can't outrun the ocean, and it quickly caught me.
Overtake me, it did not. Pick me up and drag me along, it did.
One does not simply stand up on ones first trip on a surfboard, so I merely floated along, pulled by the wave until my board ran up against the sand.
I did it. I surfed.
The challenge, however, was not yet done. Seven more tries awaited me.
On my seventh time out, it was time. Placing my palms at the edge of my board, steadying my rocking as the water hurried me along, I pushed up and placed my feet wide apart. Extending my arms for balance, I looked out and shouted for joy! I was standing on the water! The small wave gently placed me back on shore and I daintily stepped off, not before grabbing my board.
Thrilled I had defeated my fear, I surfed again and again.
Then I discovered pearling.
Surfing is a delicate sport concerned primarily with balance. When the balance is not right, surfing is not right, and things go wrong. Well, if you happen to be unlucky enough, as I was, to flop your belly down too far forward, well, the extra weight on the front obeys the law of gravity, pulling the front of the board down. From a surfer's point of view, this is frightening, but you know it's happening. However, you can't stop it. So you sit and watch as the water rushes up to kiss you and hug you and envelope you in a swirling, twirling, confusing, painful, suffocating mess of doom until you are brutally washed up on shore like driftwood. You can't breath, you can't see, and you're in danger of having your board (which is strapped to your ankle) pull you back out to sea. Agonizingly, you crawl up the sand, away from the ocean's grasp until you can cough up everything you swallowed and try again.
Pearling sucks.
Don't pearl.
But do surf.
Surfing is fun.
I wanna go back.
Sooooo badly. Anyone wanna take me?
Also, does anyone have suggestions for my next post? I'll love you forever if you do! :)
I have a peculiar problem.
I love anything and everything about the ocean, but I'm terrified of large waves.
So, of course, when my family went to learn how to surf a few years back, I did not participate.
Well, for the first day anyways.
But after seeing and hearing how much fun they were having, I decided "don't knock it 'till you try it, right?"
And surf I did.
Eeeh, let's back up a little.
That summer, there was a surf camp in my childhood beach town of Cayucos, California. Since it was free, my family totally jumped on board. Surf boards and wetsuits were rented, for everyone but me. Adamant that I was too terrified to try, I simply didn't. I thought I was perfectly content to stay on shore and splash around in the wet sand. Well, I watched them. I watched them try, I watched them fail, but most of all, I watched them succeed. I decided it looked fun, and then they came back and told me how thrilling and easy it was, I knew I had to add it to my repertoire of things I've done.
My wetsuit was rented, and I joined the surf camp.
Now, when learning to surf, you don't simply get on a surfboard and start surfing. Oh no. You learn the techniques on land, first! Here's how you paddle, here's how you stand up, here's this, here's that, don't do this, don't do that, etc, etc.
After paddling all over the place and getting nowhere but a bunch of sand in my suit, it was finally time to give it a go. I had to face my fear. As a very small, at the time not yet fully grown (but still small as fully grown), human being attempting to conquer the greatest power known to earth, I had to bring my father along. We waded out until the ocean was rocking up against my chest and I mounted that big yellow board. I sat, getting used to the feel of the power, doom, and death frolicking under my butt. But then it came.
The swell, the mound, the terror came ripping through the blue liquid, and as instructed, I lay down on my belly. With a push from my father, I began paddling, racing the wave. Of course, I can't outrun the ocean, and it quickly caught me.
Overtake me, it did not. Pick me up and drag me along, it did.
One does not simply stand up on ones first trip on a surfboard, so I merely floated along, pulled by the wave until my board ran up against the sand.
I did it. I surfed.
The challenge, however, was not yet done. Seven more tries awaited me.
On my seventh time out, it was time. Placing my palms at the edge of my board, steadying my rocking as the water hurried me along, I pushed up and placed my feet wide apart. Extending my arms for balance, I looked out and shouted for joy! I was standing on the water! The small wave gently placed me back on shore and I daintily stepped off, not before grabbing my board.
Thrilled I had defeated my fear, I surfed again and again.
Then I discovered pearling.
Surfing is a delicate sport concerned primarily with balance. When the balance is not right, surfing is not right, and things go wrong. Well, if you happen to be unlucky enough, as I was, to flop your belly down too far forward, well, the extra weight on the front obeys the law of gravity, pulling the front of the board down. From a surfer's point of view, this is frightening, but you know it's happening. However, you can't stop it. So you sit and watch as the water rushes up to kiss you and hug you and envelope you in a swirling, twirling, confusing, painful, suffocating mess of doom until you are brutally washed up on shore like driftwood. You can't breath, you can't see, and you're in danger of having your board (which is strapped to your ankle) pull you back out to sea. Agonizingly, you crawl up the sand, away from the ocean's grasp until you can cough up everything you swallowed and try again.
Pearling sucks.
Don't pearl.
But do surf.
Surfing is fun.
I wanna go back.
Sooooo badly. Anyone wanna take me?
Also, does anyone have suggestions for my next post? I'll love you forever if you do! :)
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