The Surfing Graduate

Hello and welcome to the surfing graduate. Each week i will weave tails from experiences from my life as a surfing instructor or we will look at the extremely under appreciated world of surfing.

Most surfing stories start on a sunny beach in California or Australia, with a young, wide eyed child looking out on a glorious day of firing waves barrelling left and right. My story however, starts on a gloomy snowy day half way up a Snowdonian mountain in Wales. This seems an unlikely setting for a surf story but bare with me.

From the age of 5 my parents would consistently drag me up mountains every Sunday much to my sisters and my displeasure. This is not to say we didn't have good days, but not many 5- 12 year old children wish to spent there precious weekends trekking up rainy, tiring mountains on a December morning. I'd summited Scarfell Pike (Englands highest mountain) by 6, Snowdon (Wales highest) by 8 and Ben Nevis (Scotlands/UKs highest) by age 12. There are few tall mountains to climb in the UK so by the age of 12 we were well and truly on the victory lap, which brings us to my story.

Its a cold february afternoon and my dad and i have summited a snowdonian mountain i've forgotten the name of. The snow on the peak melting in the midday sun and collecting in the lake at the base of the peak. This mountain-side lake half way up the mountain escaped into a "stream" which ran down the moutain into some river or lake at its base. This steam however had formed into a raging torrent of white water rushing down the mountain. We were faced with trying to cross this turbulent water to get down the mountain. Now as i have previously said it was february, cold windy and rainy, so i was fitted in full winter clothes. The only way to cross this "stream" was to to jump from stone in stone in the hope that we dont fall in. So we have a 12 year old and his father crossing a raging river. We reach a large gap between stones, impassible by 12 year old standards. My dad acting as a human safty rope stands with one leg on each stone ready to swing me across. I with utter faith in my hero grab his hand so that i can swing across...

Like a more realistic version of "Gravity" i slowly distance myself from my farther half way through the swing. As my head hits the freezing water i can see my glove grasped firmly in my dads hand. oh fuck! my glove had come off and i was washing down the river banging into rocks left right and center. No joke, i was in shock, i had no idea what was happening, lucky i had the good sense to grab at the nearest rock i could see after hundred meters of panic. All i remember at this point is clinging to the rock, nothing else, no care about my safety or how cold it was, just "hold on." Finally i was lifted from the water and carried to the edge of the river where we preceeded to walk as normal. After hundred meters of walking we saw what was waiting for me down the river. A 50 meter water fall collapsing onto a jungle of rocks. It is at this point my dad asks me if i'm ok? I happily respond with a cheery "its ok, my gore-tex kept me dry."

So how does this relate to surfing? Its just a strange mountaineering story. Well after a 2 hour drive home my mum sees me, quiet, blue and shivering. Apparently my gore-tex wasn't completely water proof and i was infact socked to the skin, though i don't remember it this way. She yells at my dad, and i mean yells. The dogs are summoned by this yell. Well after a hot bath and a good deal of screaming my dad walks up to me with guilt on his face. I feel sorry for him now but i felt nothing but opportunity when i was twelve. He asked me if there was any sport i really wanted to try. I don't really know why but i said surfing. We had been to the beach before and i had a body board, but there was something intriguing about standing up on a way.

My parents bought me a second had board and the next sunday off we went to the beach. I was ecstatic, Not only had i got a fantastic present, but i was not being dragged up a mountain again! Maybe its the reason i love surfing so much within seconds of being in the water.

Now my first experience surfing was not exactly a success. We knew nothing about surfing, little about the ocean and even less about what waves to catch. Looking back now i see how dangerous this was, but whats life without a little danger eh. No lessons and no wax on the board, Abersoch beach in wales was about to get one more kook.
My first attempt I jump onto the board in the water with my dad next to me and instantly side all the way off the other side headfirst into a wave crashing on top of me. The second attempt went a little better, i grabed the rails of the board and held on best i could. My dad pushed me onto a rather steep wave. The wave sent me hurtling into the sand bank on the bottom of the sea, the surfboard on the other hand took it upon its self to take flight causing the neighbouring swimmers to flee from the rather large and heavy kite soaring through the air.

This continued in this fashion for a while, it was nice as we ended up with our own little bit of ocean that everyone else avoided. I would like to say that there was a eureka moment where i stood up and everyone clapped. However it wasn't until two Sundays and a block of surf wax later, when i finally stood up.

Thanks for reading,
I will be doing various types of posts from more personal stories to whats currently happening in the WSL (world surfing league)

-- The Surf Graduate --