I’ve never been shot out of cannon, though don’t let that give the impression that I wouldn’t give it a go if I thought it’d be fun and wouldn’t kill me. I believe this curiosity and adventurousness is there in me because I imagine I’ve experienced the same thrill before, usually while standing on a board of some sort, being propelled through one of the universe’s fundamental elements like earth or water or snow in some sort of natural surrounding. The most recent instance was last weekend when I tried, yet again, to surf.
I say tried because the cannon bit came before I was able to stand up. Also, surfing is hard. I did a surf camp of sorts on a tropical holiday a few years ago, and managed to go from zero to… not hero, but maybe one, over that time. I have stood on a board and caught waves before, but for all intents and purposes, I am a complete beginner. Trips in the last couple of years to beaches with beginner-friendly breaks around Mayo and Sligo have shown me that this is not as easy as just showing up.
They should have called it ‘Waiting’
There is a lot of waiting involved. Waiting might actually be a more appropriate name for it than surfing, especially when you’re starting out. Paddling, watching, waiting. Not a lot of surfing. But it’s not just idling in the sea. There’s a lot to learned from paddling, watching and waiting. The timing of the waves as they come in. Where you should place yourself in the water. Where other people are waiting, and what they’re watching. I remarked to my more experienced friend on the stunning views of Ben Bulben, Slieve League and the rest of the surrounds from the north-facing west Sligo shore and was reminded that no-one down here is looking at the views – they’re watching the waves.
You’re watching and waiting for your chance. Timing is everything. There’s a bit of etiquette to be observed too when you’re sharing the water with others. So it’s nice to just wait and watch. At the end of the day, you’re sitting in the ocean so it’s not a bad place to sit. As long as you’ve a good wetsuit, of course. But then I had enough waiting, and would try to catch a wave. Not as easy as it seems. You’ve to go for the right waves. Hard to know the difference when you’re starting out.
It takes time
You just have to spend a lot of time in the water. Your feet will probably get cold first. Not in Bali, you can spend all day sitting in the warm equatorial ocean. The most useful thing about that surf camp wasn’t the instruction on how to stand up, it was that you’d a fella who lives and surfs and breathes in that ocean every day able to tell when the right wave was coming – one just for you – with just a glance at what looks like the smallest of ripples, though I’ve a feeling those locals could prophesise the waves based on some combination of the weather, the time of year, the position of the sun, some kind of muscle memory, and maybe even what his mother cooked for dinner last night. You can’t learn these things from a book, a forecast, or someone telling you. You just need to spend a lot of time doing it. There’s a lot of patience required. Your hands will probably start to get cold next. After a while you don’t need to watch as much, you start to sense things a bit more.
After all that waiting, I got one. Well, my board got one. Propelled through the sea like I was being shot out of a cannon, it’s an exhilarating feeling. It’s easy to get carried away and just let the wave take you. Well, easy to get carried away and also incredibly difficult not to just let yourself get carried away with it. Sure isn’t it fun enough? To just bodyboard your way into the shore. No – you’ve a job to do. Stand up.
Remembering that feeling of exhilaration
There’s a feeling of exhilaration that I haven’t felt very often elsewhere. Snowboarding, yes, though not on your typical run. It’d be more like sending yourself down a very steep and very narrow chute where you’ve no option of stopping and you have to just point your board straight and hope you’re good enough. If you think about it too much – how and when and which way to turn and all that – you’re done. So you’ve to hope your body reacts quickly enough. And the only way to train your body is by doing. That takes a lot of patience as well. It’s a good feeling, but it’s intense. And you could die, or so it feels.
I can only compare it to what it must be like to be in a car crash. Your peripheral vision goes blurry and all you can see clearly for a moment is your board beneath you. The speed is jarring and you just cling on for dear life. You can’t believe how fast you’re going, and the thought of even standing up is insane. How the hell could you stand up on this out of control piece of… I don’t even know what this fecking thing is made of, it’s not wood, is it? It can’t be. This is mental. Oh shit – I’m heading for those rocks over there. How the hell do I turn? I can’t. I’m still flying. This is incredible. Oh fuck. That’s it: I’m done.
You try again
I bail off the board. I feel like I’ve surfed, even though I couldn’t even contemplate standing on the board. How in the name of God would you stand on such an unsteady patch of material? It doesn’t look that fast when everyone else is doing it. The difference in speed between what it looks like and what it feels like when you’re actually doing it is stark, like the difference in snowboarding between how steep a slope looks and what it’s actually like looking down from above it.
You get that a lot as a beginner. You might ‘catch’ a lot of waves but it’s such a rush in the moment that you can’t even contemplate trying to stand up. Until you reach a beautiful moment of realisation: it’s only the wave that’s moving. Which means it’s just as easy to stand up on this board now as it is if it were floating dead in the ocean and you were to step onto it. Well, I mean it’s not that easy, obviously. But whatever gets you through the day. Eventually I had that realisation, that all I had to do was pop up like I’d practiced on the land, or like I was doing a burpee.
It pays to be patient
I got the next one. Got that same feeling of being shot out of a cannon. That same rush of speed and exhilaration and movement. The same blinding feeling where all I can see is the board. And in the steadiness of the board, I could see myself standing on it. I pushed my hands down under my shoulders, I jump up, and I’m standing. Once up, that feeling overpowering speed dies down a little and you gain a sense of mastery over what you’re doing. You might stand for a second, or two, or half a second. It always feels like longer. But eventually, it all comes to an end. Even a professional surfer’s ride ends with him in the water. And after just that second or two or five of glory, I feel like a pro. Or at least better than last time.
Which leads you to the best feeling you can have when you’ve done something, whether it’s catching a wave or going on a date: I can’t wait to try it again. Stand for a second longer, catch a slightly bigger wave, spot the right wave next time, a little bit quicker; develop your surfer’s instinct just a little bit. It’ll take a while, mind. But I feel like I deserve another chance. After all, I’ve spent enough time paddling, watching, and waiting.
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If you liked this you might enjoy…
…Part 2: Getting over the initial hump:
…more on finding flow in the natural wonders of the Wild Atlantic Way:
…why living a life of flow is good for you: