Surf n Turf

As part of my transformation into a full-fledged California boy, I must learn to surf. It has been a lifelong dream of mine and for one reason or another I've never tried it. I enjoyed many a summer in Florida visiting family, where I spent countless hours catching waves on my boogie board and thinking that I was an all-around badass. So I finally planned a trip to the beach on the opposite coast of my youth and got my first impromptu lesson. I did this by meeting Calvin, my new friend and kindred spirit. Calvin grew up in Florida and is an accomplished (actual) surfer, as I soon discovered once we arrived in Pacifica and hit the water.

My education began much before getting in the water. Calvin, myself and Andrew (my buddy and another first-timer) pulled into the parking lot of the Nor-Cal Surf Shop and prepared for my premier surfing experience. Not realizing that the water temperature is drastically different that Florida, I was first introduced to the wetsuit. There is little else in the world as mortifying as being, pale, freezing and basically naked, trying to wriggle into an extremely-tight layer of seal fat in front of pretty girls and surfer dudes. After my pasty, battle royale with the wetsuit (which I eventually won) I expertly selected my surfboard by pointing to a small, fierce-looking board and saying, “that one.” To which Calvin pointed to one that looked like a D-Day landing craft and said, “Um, how about this one.”

We paid for our gear for the day, on the cheap too I might add, and headed into the frigid water for several hours of extreme fun and multiple near drownings. I should clarify that surf lessons means that Calvin, who has surfed his whole life, will catch waves and do tricks all while knitting scarves for needy children while I lay panting on my board after forty-five minutes of trying to paddle beyond the breakers.

Calvin, at first, had me try to catch the “small” waves out past the breakers, where everyone, including small children can learn to surf. I have done all of my wave-catching solely off the coast of Central Florida, which is much gentler since even the Atlantic Ocean knows it is where all the old and feeble live. The Northern Pacific waves, however, are much less forgiving and as an added bonus, are freezing. Literally, freezing. A few times I lost my board I just latched on to a passing ice floe until I regained my strength.

After several more of the aforementioned near drownings, I attempted the smaller waves...ie Florida waves, which means that after the California waves break and the real surfers are finished, I can pick up their sloppy seconds on the second break of the wave (Florida wave) and try to surf the white wash. And I did, with moderate success...especially if you consider success to be planting your feet on the board, attempting to stand and plummeting face-first into five feet of water. I also discovered that, as a strategy, drinking several gallons of seawater does nothing to improve your skills.

Apparently, I beat the odds because later Calvin confessed that he had never seen someone take that much abuse from the waves and never give up, so there's always that. All kidding aside (and the six times that my shoulder came out of its socket), I seriously had more fun than is probably allowed by law...especially if you consider all of the public urination...

So I am basically hooked on surfing. I think that if an activity that involves you wearing a skin-tight suit, diving into fifty degree water, and spending most of your time in what feels like nature's cold-cycle at the laundromat, has to be a pretty amazing experience to endure all that and still love it. Oh, I forgot about sharks too, but that only seems to be a problem if one actually bites you, which I suppose could be a deal-breaker for enjoying the sport fully, but if you retain all your limbs, then you kinda don't think about it...

So after four or five hours of “surfing” we headed back to the surf shop and I once again had the joy of changing out of a wetsuit in front of yet another attractive surfer girl, which likely would have scarred me for life if it weren't for the sheer exhilaration I felt from my first day in the surf.

We packed up our things, which when you rent everything is basically just your clothes, and drove back home. Remember when you are a kid and you're outside playing and having so much fun that you forget to eat or drink, like nothing else in the world matters or exists? That is how surfing felt to me...albeit much colder (with a few warms spots).