The Start of a Quiver - July 20, 2010

After my Roxy failure, I made two determinations: 

1)   Don’t get a soft-top.  While it would give a little if it were to sail into my noggin, my knees couldn’t take it.  After an hour on the thing, they looked like those of a nine-year-old who had fallen off her bike. 

2)   Don’t get something too narrow.  Admittedly, trying to remain upright while sitting on the board was a fun way to stay occupied when waiting for a wave (I mean, who doesn’t like a challenge?), but it wasn’t so fun when I’d miss a wave because I had inadvertently rolled over right in front of it.

So I decided to look at some boards at a surf shop to see what they had in stock.  But, before I had a chance to go, Ted stopped by Mr. Surf’s to get some recommendations. 

“The salesman suggested a fun shape for your height and skill level,” he told me.  “Maybe we should borrow a board to see if it’s a good fit.”

I liked the idea; that way we’d know what to keep an eye out for in the used board inventory, but the only problem with borrowing a store’s board is that you can’t put wax on it.  Still, I could at least get an idea of how the size worked.

The next day, there was some small surf—perfect for a push session—so he was going to pick up the board from the shop and we’d hit the beach after work.  He came into my cube just before I packed up for the day and as we were chatting about something, he pulled out of his pocket a bar of what looked to be soap and started smelling it…intensely.  Now, he does the same thing with citrus (something about growing up in Miami and smelling the grapefruit hanging from the trees in his grandparents’ yard), so I blew past it at first, but then the deep inhalations became distracting so I asked what he was smelling. 

“It’s Mrs. Palmer’s surfboard wax, tropical scented,” he explained between sniffs.  I assumed it was for his board since we couldn’t wax the one I was going to demo, but he ended that assumption when he told me it was for me.

“What do you mean it’s for me?” I asked cautiously.  “What did you do?” 

He didn’t answer my question, nor did he let me peak in the surf bag in the back of his car as we drove to the beach, but when we got to the sand and unzipped the bag, there it was—my new board.  I can’t explain it, but I just knew it was going to be a keeper.  It was a real board, no soft top here; it had a good size to it (7’6”), but most importantly, it was GREEN—my favorite color! 

He showed me how to wax the board so that the riding area is evenly covered and it was during this time that I was able to admire the beauty of it.  At the nose of the board, it’s lime green with a dark green trim and it fades to white with yellow trim at the tail.  NSP is the company that made it and it’s more durable than traditional boards because it’s made with epoxy instead of fiberglass-covered foam, which gets dents and dings relatively easily.

Once the board was covered with a healthy layer of wax, we walked down to where the waves were breaking nicely.  It was definitely a small day but having someone push you can compensate for some pretty weak waves.  When the first surfable wave came, my boyfriend told me when to start paddling and then shoved the board.  When I felt the small wave start to pick up the back of my board, I popped up and rode it in toward the beach.

The board felt great!  It’s a foot smaller than what I’ve been learning on so it’s faster to paddle and faster to ride, and it feels a little more maneuverable.  I rode wave after wave until the sun sank down below the horizon and people started packing up their beach chairs.  I can’t believe I have my own surfboard.

I think I’ll call her “Greenie.”

The 7'6" NSP Funboard

 

 

Practicality Schmacticality - July 16, 2010

I’m a pretty practical person.  I still pack my lunch even though I left elementary school a long time ago, I once paid my electric bill with money my dad and stepmom gave me for an Easter dress; and I bring my own, typically healthy, snacks to the movies.  So when the idea of me having my own surf board was brought up, I thought, but those are expensive and we can just share.

Yet, the idea did appeal to me.  I never spend money, real money, on anything indulgent like this, and my parents gave me cash for my birthday a year ago specifically intended for something recreational.  So after mulling it over for a while, I decided I would start perusing local shops for a gently used board.  

The Roxy Foam-Top

However, Ted had a different idea and two days after my birthday, he found potentially the icing on the cake.  When I went over to his house that afternoon, I set my purse down before walking into the kitchen.  When I turned back around, his eyes were a little wide but I didn’t think much of it.  We chatted a bit; then when I went to get something out of my bag, it caught my eye.  There was a big, pink, Roxy surf board hanging from the wall practically screaming “Happy Birthday Maureen!!!” 

“Omigod!” I blurted out.  “What is this??  What is this on your wall??” 

He teased me about not having the self-proclaimed could-be-a-spy-if-I-wanted-to sense of observation and wished me a happy late birthday.  It was an adorable 7-foot soft‑top which he borrowed from a shop that sells used boards and it was mine if I liked it.  So we took it for a spin the next day. 

Even though I tried to look casual as I carried the board down to the beach, it was all I could do not to break into a trot to get to the water’s edge.  As I paddled out, I felt more anchored on the board because it wasn’t as smooth as the fiberglass one I’d been learning on.

Soft-top boards are made with rugged foam so they are easier for learning (plus if it bonks you in the head, it doesn’t hurt as much), and it has more friction so you never have to worry about slipping around on it when paddling.  Also, we thought a soft top would be more buoyant so it would also be easier to paddle out.  I didn’t notice much of a difference with that but then again, all I was focused on was catching that first, perfect wave on my new board.

There was a decent easterly wind so I had to keep paddling down the beach to hold my position, but it quickly became obvious that paddling was going to be easier than sitting on the board because the darn thing kept rolling over!  I don’t know what it was.  Maybe because this board was much shorter than the 8’6” that I’d gotten used to and quite a bit narrower, or maybe it was the shape of the board, but I just couldn’t stay on the thing!

A Prime Example of a Pearl

What began as funny quickly turned into frustrating because when a potential wave would come, I’d try to turn my board to face the shore but instead I’d roll it over and miss the damn wave!  Then on the waves that I did get in position for in time, I ended up pearling the nose into the water when I went to pop up.  This would send me face forward into the wave where I’d inevitably get tumbled about before I could come up for air.

To make matters worse, my typical knee bruises I’ve grown used to since picking up this sport were becoming more like mild road rash.  I realized it was from rubbing against the foam top, and the salt water only added to the problem.  Even my ridiculous boy-length board shorts weren’t going to protect my knees from the strawberries that were forming.

But if it’s one thing I have, it’s heart (or a stubborn nature), so I kept trying for that illusive perfect wave.  Over and over again I tried and I was either too far back on the board causing the wave to roll up under me or, as was more often the case, I was too far forward and I would pearl the nose, ending all chances of a ride. 

On what ended up being my last wave, I got impatient and leaned too far forward.  The front of the board dipped into the water and the back of it got lifted up by the wave…into the washer machine I went.  As I was getting “maytagged” underneath the wave, the oh-so buoyant board shot straight up out of the water spinning around, which caught the attention of everyone on the beach who were now appreciating the Roxy logo in all of its bright-pink glory.

After I paddled back to the beach, all the while focusing on not rolling off the board and embarrassing myself in front of the tourists, I picked up the “soft” top and hobbled up to the surf bag.  I finally got to survey my scraped-up knees up close and it became clear:  maybe this isn't "my board" after all.