Reflections: A Year Surfing
Northshore beach in San Juan, La Union.
It has been a year since I stood on a surfboard in San Juan, La Union. I remember asking myself, “Why the fuck am I doing this,” as I lie on my belly while my surf instructor pushed me against harsh, breaking waves.
I wasn't any good; I was never the sporty type. I didn't even know how to swim. Some people learn to surf and ride a board on their first try and clearly I wasn't one of them. I think I managed to ride once or twice during that one-hour session. I was a total sporting failure - up till now - but I found something beautiful on that Saturday that I was going to keep in my heart indefinitely: a love for the ocean, a love for falling and endlessly trying, a love for travelling, and a love for hot, semi-naked people.
Beginnings
My calendar year's worth of surfing has its interesting stories. It began when I hooked up with a sun-tanned surfer with impressive shoulder blades and rocking hot abs.
I was like, “Damn, if surfing does this to your body, then I am surely taking up the sport.”
Besides him, one of my favorite local rock icons was a surfer, too, and it seemed like really hot people were taking up the sport. I decided to join the bandwagon with a beach-body dream while looking forward to watching sunsets of lavender and tangerine.
Kidding! The main reason I went to La Union on my birthday weekend and dipped my toes into surfing was so that I could “feel closer” to Mr. Surfer and remember him while I inhaled some salty beach air.
We were never together on the beach, I never saw him surfing in real life, and we were never together - but, anyways - end of sappy story.
But that was just the start. I continued to go on surf trips and tried my awful best at learning the sport, regardless of the frustration, regardless of how much I sucked at it, regardless of the costs. I found myself hooked and obsessively checking weather forecasts and watching YouTube videos for surfing techniques.
I started to get into the whole culture of it. I was determined on not being a total kook.
Injuries and Pains
“Surfing is one of the most difficult sports to master.”
No wave is ever the same - unless you're in a wave pool - and weather conditions can either bring out the best or the worst in the surf.
I've seen clear, sunny days with perfect wind speeds and glassy sets of breaking waves, coming in perfectly set intervals. They make long, smooth rides easier to accomplish. On the other hand, I've witnessed awful weather and gnarly waves that beat the shit out of me, crawling for my life back to the shore and nearly drowning after a wipe out.
I have sprained my shoulder trying to catch a wave, in vain. I have been hit by my board plenty of times (getting bruised will remind you to take surf safety more seriously). I have been wiped out with my leash wrapped around my neck. The soles of my feet have bled thanks to reefs. Luckily, I have never had to deal with jelly fish.
There is a distinct memory of myself sitting by a riverbank, gazing into the blue, all alone, one hot afternoon. It was a wasted surf session (if you could even call it one); I wasn't catching waves, let alone standing on them. I dinged my brand new board. My eyes were watery out of sheer frustration.
I was in love with something that didn't want me back. It was painful.
Adventures and Misadventures
I went alone in almost all my travels. Carpooling with other surfers was a thing that I didn't do (maybe someday, perhaps?) so I figured out and did everything on my own - from booking bus tickets to finding accommodation. I'd had countless, tireless conversations with drivers who always picked on the fact that I was a girl travelling solo (it's “dangerous and atypical.”)
Most of the time though, it was awesome. It felt like I was a totally free spirit who could do anything and go anywhere I wanted, because I simply could. (Well, except catch waves and consistently ride them.)
It also meant that I had the opportunity (or the misfortune) to engage in activities outside of a normal “surf travel itinerary”, such as hooking up with locals (which I don't highly recommend). In another place, I'd experienced being invited to a christening and feeling like I was part of a family.
Some of these “families” and friends I lost in sordid circumstances, with a bit of regret and never-going-back-to-that-spot kind of drama - but things like that happen to us whether we're out surfing or not. It's a fact of life, I just got more prone to it because I was naive and vulnerable, doing many things at the same time with minimal guidance for the first time in my life.
Truly, there are nice and not-so-nice things about my solo travelling as a surfer. Still, I don't see myself consistently travelling in a pack of surfers soon, because I still kind of enjoy the unique, solitary reflection that I experience as a solo traveler.
After all, we're all alone together in the lineup.
Popping back up
So basically, my first year of surfing has been all about testing the waters and the limits of my own resilience. It found answers to the question, “Is this hobby something I can really pursue, is it even worth pursuing?”
Along the way, I studied the logistics of travel, visiting new places, and encountering new people. I had become a certified weekend warrior.
Best achievement? Getting comfortable on my board in the water, managing to paddle out through waist to shoulder high swells. Occasionally surviving drops and actually riding waves.
It surprises me how far my motivations have gone from checking out the surf because I was infatuated with another surfer, to getting myself all beaten up, wrestling against nature, because there's nothing like conquering the elements while I ride on a wave.
I have much, much room for improvement - I'll probably be learning all my life - on the physical side of the sport, and I am willing to endure years of body aches and injuries if that's what's needed. If I really want to make something out of myself as a surfer, even if it just meant that I will be catching waves and having fun, I need to work hard for it. I need to fully commit on this aspect. Surfing is, after all, a grueling physical activity.
It is a relationship that you have with yourself and the ocean, with nothing else in between.