Boarding school: surf camp helps get you into the swim

Muscle & Fitness/Hers, June-July, 2004 by Daryn Eller

i'VE CLIMBED MOUNTAINS, kayaked open water, skied steep slopes, competed in swim meets, but somehow I had managed to live most of my life in Southern California and never learned to surf. That, I decided, needed to change, which is why I found myself in La Jolla Shores one summer weekend, enrolled in a two-day Surf Diva clinic.

Lessons began at 7:30 a.m. I may never have been a surfer, but I'd dated enough of them to know that the water is calmer and glassier early in the morning, so I purposely had chosen the early sessions. As it turned out, I needn't have worried. The waves at this particular northern San Diego beach are routinely small and the water pretty calm just about any time of day. In short, it's the perfect place to learn to surf.

Arriving at the camp, I sized up the competition--er, crowd. OK, so I get a little competitive when it comes to sports. Even though a lot of the women were younger than me (our group of about 30 ranged in age from their teens to 30s and, like me, 40s) and some were looking as buff as pro Layne Beachley in their bikinis, I was determined to hold my own.

As we sat on the sand, five female instructors talked to us about currents, riptides and the nature of waves. They instructed us on surf etiquette (one person per wave, defer to whoever catches it first) and, perhaps most important, how to avoid looking like a novice.

"Don't, for instance, ever drag your board by the leash," directed one of the instructors, referring to the rubber rope that attaches around your ankle and ensures that you don't lose your board when you (inevitably) wipe out. "And when you walk out into the water, point your board forward (out to sea) and hold it alongside of you, not in front of your body." This no-no, we learned, was not only geeky, it was dangerous: Hold a board in front of you and most likely a wave will flip it--taking you along for the ride.

Next, we got down to the heart of the matter: How to stand on the board, or as the surf divas call it, the "pop-up." Safely confined to the sand and lying on our beached boards, we practiced the maneuver. Go ahead, try it at home: Prone, pretend to paddle a few strokes, place your hands on the board in push-up position, then, simultaneously thrusting your upper body up and off the board and jumping your feet forward, pcp into a bent-knee stance. We performed the pop-up over and over and over again--but could we do the same thing with a wave threatening to crash on top of us? One could only hope.

"OK, into your wetsuits," said the head instructor, Sandra. I've worn one plenty of times and even own one for snorkeling, so why was it that, in front of an audience, I put mine on inside out? Nerves, I guess. I had visions of getting conked on the head with my board or, worse, failing to excel at the sport (I told you I was competitive). Finally, properly sausaged into the neoprene, I headed for the water.

I was teamed with two teenagers and a young woman in her 20s with long blond hair, tawny skin and bravado--she even went without a wetsuit. She seemed like a well-seasoned surfer, but swore it was her first time. We were assigned to Sandra, which was reassuring (we knew she knew what she was doing), and I was glad to learn that she'd be out there with us as we waited on our boards for the sets to roll in.

The next hour basically went like this: I'd lie on my board, look over my shoulder to check if a wave was coming, then paddle like a maniac when a good one did come to keep pace with its momentum, catch it, pop up (or not) and fall. Then I'd regroup, gather my wits about me, head back out into the surf and do it all over again. It immediately became clear that one of the most important aspects of the exercise is paddling. Paddling is the meat and potatoes of surfing. If you don't do it hard and fast enough, the wave will crest and break and you'll be left behind. "Paddle! Paddle!" I could hear Sandra yell over the roar of the white water.

My first inkling that something good was happening was when I started taking some big falls, resurfacing with a mouthful of salty foam. That meant I was actually popping up all the way--not staying up for long, but giving it a try, a sign that I had overcome my initial trepidation. By the end of the two-hour clinic, I had successfully popped up several times and even stayed up in a few instances. How did everyone else do? I have no idea. Surfing is a little like yoga in that it demands that you focus intently on what you're doing; get distracted, and the wave will tumble you like a pair of jeans in a clothes dryer. The most attention I paid to my fellow surfers was trying not to run them over--and to get out of their way when they were heading for me.

By the time I whipped off my wetsuit that day, I was exhilarated--and worn out and hungry. The idea of renting a board for the rest of the day and practicing some more as I'd planned earlier seemed ludicrous. I could think of only two things: a hot shower and some hotcakes.

The next morning I awoke grumbling. All that popping and paddling had made the muscles in my shoulders and along the sides of my chest ache. To make matters worse, I had spent the previous afternoon at the San Diego Zoo, an exquisite place that also happens to be the size of a small country. I had traipsed around there for three hours and my legs, already fatigued from my surfing endeavors, were a little wobbly. Still, I was feeling pretty confident. At least now I (sort of) knew what I was doing out there. Plus, I had practiced my pop-up in my hotel room the night before and it was looking pretty good!