We surfed, we fell, we hurt

It’s Tuesday morning just before 10:00. We’re on the beach at Westward Ho! (I know, a place name with an exclamation mark, how exciting! More on that below) We’re standing outside a converted horse-box surf school run by Mark. The weather gods have thankfully smiled down on us as the sky is blue and the sun is trying its hardest and I’m hopping from one leg to another pouring myself into a wetsuit. Oh, joy!

We set off in pairs with our boards, in convoy for a short walk to the sand where we gather in a circle, wide-eyed and nervous (just me?) for the two hours ahead. We listen carefully and nod eagerly as our instructor explains the basics needed to safely begin our surfing experience: how to hold the board, how to get on the board, how to fall off the board. We go through these again with a couple of sandy dry runs popping onto our knees and then standing up. Sounds simple enough – just add water.

Then we’re off.

We drag our boards into the water to battle the elements right at the point where sand, sea and sky meet in a mellifluous tussle and we watch for the waves.

He made it look and sound so simple. A few steps to follow. Lay flat on the board until you see the wave coming, then start to paddle with your arms. When you feel the wave take the board, paddle three more strokes, then up. Knees first, graciously ascending onto two feet to ride towards the shore.

But when you also throw in the variables of waves, balance, confidence and strength, those few steps become a bit of a blur.

I had low expectations of how much we could actually learn in two hours. I was surprised. All of us, even me, managed to get to our feet. Okay, so I only managed it twice for about a millisecond each time before wiping out – I’ll take it.

My daughter was a natural. Each time she caught a wave it was as though the sea slowed down, giving her all the time she needed.

Ollie, being a skater, thought his board skills would easily transfer. Turns out water is different from concrete and wheels respond differently to waves.

I’d like to say I was a natural. I wasn’t. It pains me slightly to admit that my husband was better than me.

We surfed, we fell, we hurt ourselves.

We got up, grappled for our boards and waded out against the waves once more.

We hauled ourselves up and tried again.

And we did it again and again.

I had snot streaming down my face and saltwater stinging at my eyes and burning my throat.

It was brilliant.

My dreams of looking like Lori Petty casually sitting on a board out at sea were quickly quashed. After nearly two hours repeatedly falling in the water, I’m hungry and tired, that really good tired, but more breaking point than Point Break.

Westward Waves Surf School

Head just east from Westward Ho! and into Northam Burrows, you’ll see a converted horsebox. A magnificently unorthodox surf school from where Mark runs lessons each day in groups or private lessons. It’s fully equipped with two changing rooms and a selection of wetsuits and boards to kit out the lessons.

Mark seemed to be some kind of surfing ninja, not missing anything that we did, offering words of encouragement when needed, steadying boards, and not allowing anyone to rest too long. After the initial briefing and introduction, we headed into the water where he moved from student to student ensuring that we all got the most from our two hours.

And of course, there was food

After working up an appetite falling off our surfboards and desperate for something to take the salty taste from our mouths, we headed back to Westward Ho! for lunch but basically late brunch at the Rockpool Cafe. Perhaps it was because I was hungry and tired, but the food was really good. I devoured an all-day breakfast of bubble & squeak with fried eggs and veggie sausages washed down with a flat white.

Westward Ho!

Westward Ho! in North Devon has a beautiful stretch of sandy beach offering an open shoreline suited to learning to surf, and is much quieter than the nearby beaches of Bude or Saunton. It was created to be a holiday village in Victorian times taking its name from the Charles Kingsley novel and is still a popular holiday destination.

This is my fifth serving on the #Write52 challenge. One post each week for a whole year. To read more from us, search ‘Write52’ on Twitter.