A Day to Give Thanks - November 25, 2010

What a day to give thanks!  It’s unseasonably warm for late November and the sky was the deepest, clearest blue today that you could ask for.  The water temp is now somewhere in the mid-70s, so it was perfect for our new wetsuits. 

Ted’s youngest daughter came in town for the holiday but our family dinner at my dad and stepmom’s house didn’t start until 3:00.  That gave us plenty of time for a morning session before we needed to get in the kitchen to prepare our dishes.  So we loaded up our boards and drove down to the state park. 

We were not by any means the only people with this idea – all the local surfers and stand-up paddle boarders were out in the water, and everyone had the same goofy grin.  The three of us quickly realized why when we looked at the waves.  They were slow lefts, meaning they closed out slowly from right to left rather than breaking all at once soon after they built tall enough to ride.  These are the conditions that make for the long rides that surfers absolutely covet.  More importantly for my skill level, the waves weren’t too big but yet they were powerful, so they were super easy to get up on. 

We had a blast watching the soul surfers – many of whom were around when surfing first emerged along our coastline – come by us on their long boards.  It was beautiful to see their classic wave rider style: standing tall on the board, close to the nose, with the front foot extended out like a graceful dancer.  The boards themselves were works of art.  One man had a wooden board akin to those of the 1950s when the sport was first gaining popularity.  Sharing waves with these soul surfers made me appreciate this wonderful hobby all the more. 

Just before calling it a day (there was pear salad and minced meat pie to make!), the three of us all spotted the same wave.  We had been chatting in our own little lineup away from the crowd when we saw this perfect wave slowly approaching from the horizon.  Almost in unison, we turned our boards to face the beach, dropped to our bellies, and started paddling.  Usually when several surfers all vie for the same wave, only one or two end up catching it; it’s just the way it goes.  For us though, the heavens had another plan.  All three of us caught this beautiful, clean wave and when we each realized that the other two had the same fortune, we squealed with delight (okay, maybe not Ted, but he was pretty freaking stoked too).  We were grinning from ear to ear, cheering each other on all the way to the beach.  It was amazing…a wave that we’ll never forget.

What a great way to spend Thanksgiving Day morning.

Wetsuit Time - November 12, 2010

I made it half-way through the fall without a wetsuit, and if it were left up to me, Thrifty Thelma, I’d see if I could push it to Christmas.  However, as the weeks went by, Ted noticed that I was shivering more and more during our sessions and he could probably hear my teeth chattering over the wind and the waves.  So to the surf shop we went.

My only other experience with a wetsuit was during high school swim practice in the late fall when a teammate brought a few suits to the pool.  There were no other takers when she offered them up, so I figured I’d give it a shot. 

With no instruction, I inefficiently began yanking it on.  By the time I finally had it up and zipped, I was not only exhausted (who knew it’d be this hard??), I was uncertain that it was the best fit.  I had to wait for my teammate to finish her warm up – that’s how long it took me to get it on – to ask her if the weird fit was due to the fact that it was her brother’s wetsuit. 

“Zipper goes in the back, Maureen,” she told me before she pushed off the wall to begin her next set of laps.

Huh.  That’s a simple fix – by the time I get this off and then back on again, swim practice will only be half over.

So I was a little nervous about getting back into a wetsuit, but luckily my experience at Mr. Surf’s wasn’t nearly as trying as the Mosley High School pool deck in 1998.  The clerk at the surf shop gave me a plastic bag to put my foot in before stepping through the leg of the suit to reduce the friction.  It worked like a charm and with a few other tips for getting into and out of a wetsuit (peel it off, don’t pull it off), I was pleasantly surprised at the ease with which the whole thing went down. 

I tried on two and ended up selecting a wonderfully stretchy 3/2 full suit.  The 3/2 measurement is in reference to the thickness in millimeters – it’s three around the core and two through the arms and legs.  That way, it’s a good blend of warmth where you need it most, and mobility everywhere else.

Next up was my boyfriend, who wanted to replace his old wetsuit.  Now, if I knew the spectacle that was about to ensue, I would have brought the camera.  He chose three suits to try on but for some reason, he seemed hurried to get through each one (note, putting on a wetsuit is not something you should rush).  It probably didn’t help that more than one attendant knocked on his fitting room door to make sure he didn’t need anything.  While they were just being attentive, I think it may have contributed to his rushing.

He liked the first two options, so he tried them both on one more time to make a decision.  Now the attendants were gathering around his door making small talk and trying to be helpful.  When he had the first one back on, he stepped out to show us…and that’s when I saw it, the pervasive beads of sweat that so frequently crop up just below his hairline.  He’ll start to sweat over just about anything.  Even eating something spicy will do it (and by “spicy,” I don’t mean a level of heat only found in a place like Goa, even a slice of pepper jack will get him cranking).  To borrow the words of my college roommate’s father, he has an “efficient cooling system.”

By the time he put back on the third option (so his fifth wetsuit donning of the day), he was sweating so much that the store owner actually asked him if he was okay.  He of course responded in a manner so nonchalantly that, if you were speaking to him over the phone and didn’t see his face becoming more flushed with each passing minute, you’d think he was lounging on the sofa watching The Masters.

As he continued posturing with this passé demeanor discussing the pros and cons of the two finalists, the number of attendants “helping” him was steadily growing (I guess news of The Sweater, had gotten around the shop).  But Ted’s not one to wilt under pressure.  Almost as though to make a point, he continued to weigh his choices until he eventually decided on the last suit he had on.  I think everyone breathed a sigh of relief when he went back into the dressing room to take off the neoprene insulation.

He must have really made an impression because they remembered him a few weeks later.  He was in the store to rent a suit for his daughter when the owner approached him.  He said something along the lines of, “Hey man, were you ok?  I’ve never seen someone get so overheated from trying on a wetsuit before.”

Not overheated, just efficiently processing the heat.

His Quicksilver and my Roxy 3/2 wetsuites

Video Blog = VLOG - October 10, 2010

This waterproof video camera is CRAZY cool!  We’ve used it quite a bit in the last month and Ted has put together a little montage of my surfing.  It's super melodramatic - you gotta do something to spice it up when the surfing isn't exactly a Wow Fest - and he went for a Spike Lee thing with his entry. 

When he was looking for a good song to use for the soundtrack, I think he was inspired by my Irish dancer-esque dismounts (you'll see what I mean).  Some people think river dance when they hear this kind of music.  Ted, evidently, thinks surf video.

Ugh…I Think I Cracked a Rib – September 20, 2010

Surf Safety Tip #1:  Don’t dive off your board; fall backward instead. 

I’ve heard this again and again – diving off your board when you don’t know how deep it is can be dangerous, so don't do it.  But I just can’t seem to break that habit.  Every time I miss a wave but pop up anyway (another weird pattern I’ve developed), I find it natural to dive off.  I don’t know what it is.  Maybe it’s from summers on the swim team when I had to practice diving off the block again, and again, and again…I just can’t seem to stop.

This came to a head today when we went out after work to try our new waterproof video camera.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to film because I was having a difficult time catching waves; they just kept rolling up under me and I was left standing on my board.  After a while, this really started to agitate me and Mad Mo does not make for good pictures or video, so Ted put the camera away and grabbed his board. 

To make matters worse, the rip was preventing me from holding my position in the lineup.  You see, the way a wave breaks has almost everything to do with the bottom, and bottoms are varied because of sand bars, trenches, etc.  Therefore, certain areas of the beach are good for surfing so surfers “line up” at those spots to catch the waves.   But because rips or heavy winds are frequently in play, you have to work at constantly paddling against them so you don’t get taken down the beach.  In addition to the extra energy required to constantly paddle over, you have to be continually aware of where you are on the lineup.  If you’re just looking out at the waves, you don’t realize you’ve been drifting until you’re eight beach houses over.  At this point it's too late to paddle back, you have to go back to the beach and walk back.

I’m particularly prone to this distraction and Ted had to keep telling me to paddle over.  Finally at one point this afternoon he said with a notably forceful tone, “Maureen.  The lineup is here,” as he emphatically pointed to where he was sitting.  This of course struck a cord with me (I mean, what does it matter if I’m not catching as many waves because I’m not right on the lineup?).  So I did what any good 6-year-old would do and paddled over toward him, beyond him, and then beyond that, until I was a healthy 50 yards down the beach in the other direction.

That’ll show him…I guess.

My frustration grew as I continued having trouble getting in front of the waves and I’m pretty sure my attitude showed.  After missing the next wave, and popping up anyway, it happened.  I dove off my board and because of my triumphant paddle over to the other side of the lineup, I was now, unwittingly, over the sandbar.  So when I dove in, I must have just cleared the bottom with my arms, head, and chest, but as I began to arch back up to the surface, I crashed the bottom of my rib cage into the sandbar.  This sent a shrill of pain through my body – I guess I came down with a lot of speed – and my eyes were watering up by the time I resurfaced. 

I didn’t really know what to do.  Ted and I were, ugh…taking a breaking from talking to each other, and there were tourists on the beach probably wondering why I kept popping up on a non‑moving board only to dive off of it.  So I gingerly got back on my board and slowly paddled back out. 

Each paddle stroke caused a tinge of pain and I couldn’t take a full breath.  I sat on my board for a while pretending to be looking for waves when I was really just trying to fight the tears that were desperately wanting to break out in full stream. 

“Oh please no,” I thought, I can’t be a bad surfer and a crying surfer!  In my head I heard Tom Hanks say is his talk/yell way that we all love, “There’s no crying in surfing!”

Ted, whose board is a foot longer and that much harder to get in front of waves, wasn’t having much luck either, so he put his board up and came back out to get some video footage.   I pretended not to know he was approaching me so I could continue “looking for waves” as I tried to get myself together.  He must have been able to tell that I was caging the CryBear because he immediately asked what was wrong.

“I cracked a rib on the sandbar,” I blurted out.  Concern overtook his face and he said, “Ok, let’s go home; we can start with icing it.”  When I turned down his offer, he thought one of two things: a) she’s really tough and utterly dedicated to the sport, or b) she didn’t crack a rib. 

Once he surmised it was the latter, he kindly but patronizingly asked me, “What did we learn about diving off the board?”

He must have snapped this just after he asked that question because this is not a happy face:

Solo Session - September 2, 2010

Today was my first time out by myself – Yep, my training wheels are no more!  Ted wasn't able to go with me but the waves were too pretty to pass up, so I borrowed his SUV and took my board down to the beach.

It was just past 7 a.m. when I got there, and the waves were cleanly shaped 2-footers, perfect for honing my newly attained skill of catching my own waves.  This was my fourth surf session in a row because we’ve had a great swell for the last few days that has brought in small but consistent waves.  We even did a double session on Thursday, an hour or so in the water before work and then a few hours after.  You’d think I’d be exhausted by now (which I am) and ready for a break (but I’m not). 

Yep, it’s official; I’ve totally got surf stoke.

Swell Info's Surf Forcast

Each morning, I check the local surf report and look up the charts on http://www.swellinfo.com/.  The green, blue, and red graph that depicts both the wave height and the conditions (clean/fair/choppy) has become a daily fixture on my computer screen.  I’ve even conjured my coworkers into driving by the surf each Wednesday morning.  Ok, it’s not as bad as it sounds; it’s on our way back from a meeting we have at an office that’s just a block off the beach.  It’s not like we have to go out of our way.  Still, I think I’ve got it bad.

So back to this morning.  Paddling out by myself felt so independent, so…true surfer.  Up until now, I’ve probably looked like the girl whose learning to surf because her boyfriend does – but now, I feel more legitimate.  Granted, I’ve got beginner slung across my board each time it launches into the air after being pearled into a wave, but it’s clear this is my hobby and not just something I’m doing so I can hang out with my guy.

I was out there for almost three hours and it was quite a surf session.  After so much time in the water this week, I had full-on belly rash.  Even though I was wearing a rash guard by this point, I hadn’t for the first three sessions and the skin on my stomach was rubbed raw by the combination of surfboard wax and salt water.  So each time I had to lie down on my board, it was all I could do not to yelp.

There was one other surfer and though much more advanced than I, he was still figuring out the waves as well.  We both had our share of waves that passed us by because we couldn’t get in front of them, and likewise with the waves that led to pearls – even when we made a conscious effort to pull the nose back out of the water once we saw it going in.  It’s just that he, no more than 15 years old, had far more successes.

Still, when I got my last ride and headed in, I looked back to the kid and threw him a big wave.  He immediately reciprocated and it was like there was an unspoken respect for each other.  Even though we didn’t talk when we were in the lineup, we shared a passion that connected us. 

This passion drives us surfers to jump out of bed early before work – or, even more notable, on a Saturday, our only day off – just so we can catch a few waves before we begin the day.  It makes us willing to keep gutting it out after we’ve gotten tumbled around in the waves time and again, swallowed untold amounts of salt water, or become bleary eyed from the constant glare.  This passion for surfing even enables us to ignore our belly rashes that remind us – each and every time we jump on the board – how stupid we were not to wear a rash guard during the previous three sessions.

So...when’s the surf gonna be up again?

Soul Ride - August 28, 2010

I did it!!  I FINALLY did it!!  I caught my own wave and I am BESIDE myself with glee.  The ride itself is a bit of a blur because I was just so slap happy when it was happening.  I guess it was a good ride but the whole time I was in disbelief that I finally got in front of one – under my own paddle power – and rode it into shore.  I didn’t want to admit it but I was actually beginning to wonder if I would be forever relegated to having someone push me.  It’s cute right now having the BF help me out but at some point you have to take the training wheels off.

The timing worked out quite well because soon after this personal triumph, we had several days of surf that was big enough for me to catch on my own wave…and you better believe, we hit them every day.  Starting on Wednesday after work, Ted picked me up at the office with the boards poking out of his rear window.  Wave, after wave, after wave – we surfed our hearts out.  Of course my rides were spotty, some waves I caught, many of them I didn’t, but it was great practice. 

But honestly, the coolest thing about moving to this next step is that Ted is finally able to get back out on his board.  Up until now, he’s been mostly pushing me, so this was a great breakthrough for our surfing together. 

There’s nothing like sitting on your board, next to your partner, watching the sun dip into the water before you grab your final wave of the night.

Famous Amos - August 22, 2010

I’m famous!!  Okay, maybe not that famous, but today I made it on the surf report that a local surf shop provides through their website: http://www.mrsurfs.com/surf_report.php. 

Each day, the shop owner photographs a variety of spots along the beach so the locals know what the surf is doing.  He obviously photographs surfers when that’s an option but on days that it’s not good surf, he’ll just grab a shot or two of the beach. 

However, this morning was kind of a hybrid of the two: it was way too small for discerning surfers but, for a desperate one like me who’s lucky enough to have a boyfriend who will provide a push, it was a perfect day to get on Mr. Surf’s.  

Mr. Surf's Surf Report

I was so excited that I thought this should not only be shared with my family and close friends, but that it should also be displayed on my cube wall at work.  The same coworker who photoshopped my face on the guy with a broken board a few weeks ago decided he’d doctor up this next one with a breaching shark.  I guess it’s befitting, since Shark Week just finished up…

Duck Diving 101 - August 13, 2010

Ok.  I give.  Even a strong-willed girl like me will eventually figure out when to throw in the towel.  Maybe it's not in the cards for me to catch my own waves on this trip.  After all, I've only been surfing a month now and as I’ve been told a few times before, I may need to do a little expectation management. 

So I decided to use today’s session, the last one of the trip, to practice my duck dive.  This is the way that surfers push themselves and their boards under an oncoming wave while paddling out to the lineup.  

The duck dive is a necessity for surfing in waves that are too big to paddle up and over, and I just know this will make my getting out to the lineup significantly easier.  It’s so frustrating when I’m trying to paddle out and each oncoming wave picks me up and moves me back toward the shore.  Just as I recover from one face-smacking wave and begin making forward progress again, another one comes and I start all over again.

I did some reading online and it said to grab the nose of the board just before a wave comes and push it down at a 45-degree angle.  At the same time, push one foot down on the tail and lift the other foot up in the air, which will act as leverage to get the board down into the water.  After the wave passes overhead, allow the board to point back up so you can resurface and resume paddling immediately.  If you search images of duck dives on Google, you'll find some pretty cool shots like this one:





Seems simple enough.

Before the first wave, I get the board moving with a few quick strokes, then reach up to grab the rails (side of the board) right at the nose to push it down.  Oddly, the board barely moves. 

Let’s try this again, with a little more gusto this time.  I paddle a little harder, then really force the nose down.  Here's the result:

Now, I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure this little move isn't going to get me under 6-foot waves.

I continue to try – harder and harder I try – but I show no improvement.  Holy smokes!  How is this so hard??  I mean, my board’s not a shorty, but at 7’6”, it’s not exactly a longboard either. 

After my last attempt, I’m so frustrated I actually get off my board and try to swim to the outside, towing it behind me via the leash.  This is the most inefficient way to get to the outside, and I haven’t done it since that fateful day off the coast of Massachusetts when I had borrowed a friend’s board to “try a little something called surfing.”

When Ted saw me swimming through the waves with Greenie trailing behind me impeding any real progress, he knew I was at my wits’ end.  So he swam over and offered to push me into some waves so I could at least score a ride or two before the vacation ended.  I didn’t put up a fight this time.  I was so emotionally defeated, and the only thing that would make me feel better was a little ride, whether or not I caught it on my own.

At this point, my expectations had been efficiently curbed – if I was able to pop up and ride for even just a few feet, I’d be happy – but I guess that’s right where fate wanted me.  Since I was so focused on trying to shove an obviously too buoyant board underwater, I was unaware that the winds had been backing off that afternoon.  And without those persistent west winds, things began cleaning up.  

With the first push Ted gave me, I not only popped up quite easily, I had my first true drop in.  This is a monumental moment in a beginner surfer’s journey.  Up until now, I’ve just ridden the waves’ white water straight to the beach.  But now, for the first time, I caught the wave before it broke, dropped into position, and actually rode horizontally (or at least at an angle) down the beach a little way.  It’s this riding parallel to the beach that gives way to longer rides, and unless you can master that as a beginner surfer, there’s no advancing to the next level.

I heard Ted cheering behind me and his daughter was clapping for me near the shore.  I was thrilled; I didn’t care that I needed a push to catch the wave.  This was an achievement that I wasn’t even looking for, and as I found out today, sometimes those are the best kind.

Swing and a Miss - August 10, 2010

We’re a few days into our vacation now and this place is an absolute paradise.  We’ve been playing tennis, catching up on summer reading, and of course surfing every chance we get. 

St. George Island

Each morning before breakfast, we check out the surf and plan our day accordingly.  As we venture back and forth to the coast, we take this small sandy trail through a pine forest that ends at the beach.  There’s nothing like being able to just walk our boards down to the gulf rather than have to load up the car and drive.  Our new way feels so…surf camp-ish. 

Perhaps I’m pretending this is a true surf vacation because each morning as we look observe the blown-out conditions that no real surfer would waste her time on, I suggest, “Why don’t we just try it?”  I just can’t imagine not surfing while we’re so close to the water! 

But it’s only gotten worse since we arrived.  The winds have been steadily blowing out of the southwest, which continues to chop up the waves, and the rip current gets stronger by the day.  Yesterday morning as I paddled out, my surf partners stayed on the shore and watched as I pointed straight out but got so pushed by the winds that I made a diagonal path through the water.   By the time I made it to the outside, I was 300 yards down the beach. 

And that’s another thing - there really is no “outside” right now since the surf is so chopped up.  So even though I was sitting outside the area where most of the waves were breaking, the occasional one would break right on top of my sad little head.  This of course agitated me considerably, particularly the times that the waves actually picked me up and flipped me over - board and

all - before washing me back to shore…where I had to start my paddle out all over again.

Not.  Happy.

But like most good Irish women, I can get a little bull-headed, even when I know it makes WAY more sense to give up.  I really wanted to start catching my own waves, so I talked myself into believing that if I just paddled hard enough, I would be successful.   

So the session was essentially a repeat of the first morning: paddle-paddle-paddle, pop up, nada.  I’m left there standing on the board. 

I tried it over and over again for what seemed like half a day (though I’m pretty sure it wasn’t much over half an hour) and with each failed attempt, I got more and more angry.  As I would fall backwards off my non-moving board, I’d let out a guttural yell that would only stop when my head smacked the water.

Ted offered to help a couple of times but I felt like that contradicted what I was trying to do: be able to surf independently.  But he still stayed out with me (I think he was worried I was going to exhaust myself to the point of drowning) and decided to snap these telling photographs.

Two words: 

Epic.

Fail.

Paddle! Paddle! Paddle! - August 8, 2010

Before breakfast, Ted's daughter and I were going to go for a jog but we decided to check out the waves before we began our trod through the muggy morning air.  According to the surf report, not much of anything was forecasted for the entire week, but a stiff southeast wind began blowing during the night so we were hoping that would push up some waves by the next afternoon. 

She and I walked a block to the gulf and right where our street dead-ended was a home under construction.  We skirted around the concrete beginnings of what will soon be the pool of some lucky beachfront homeowner, then hoisted ourselves up onto their unfinished boardwalk. 

What we saw when we got to the top of the boardwalk was almost magical.  There were waves—clean, pretty, and most importantly, big enough to catch without a push from someone.  We couldn't believe our luck!  While the run would have been good, we decided to can it in favor of grabbing our rash guards and boards.

We ran back down the boardwalk and jumped off the back where the stairs will eventually be built.   As we were trucking through the dirt-filled construction zone, the building contractor turned into the driveway.  We must have looked so guilty—like a couple of kids who had just tried out a potato gun on their neighbor's back porch.  Luckily he didn't question our trespassing, so a short time later we were paddling out. 

Ted decided to work with his daughter as it had been several years since her last time on a board and she wanted a refresher.  Plus, now that I've been surfing for a few weeks and have gotten comfortable with the pop-up, I've could continue working on paddling into my own waves. 

Something I've learned about paddling for your own waves:  It's significantly harder to generate enough speed in order to get in front of the wave.  It's surprising how much edge someone's push can give you.  With that extra speed, all you really have to focus on is your pop-up and keeping your balance until the wave is over.  But when you don’t have enough speed going into a wave, most of them will pass you by and you'll end up looking like an idiot standing up on your board as the wave moves on without you. 



Looking from the shore, this is me, now standing, as the wave passes by.



This was pretty much the experience of the entire morning.  I was only able to catch one wave, and that was at the beginning of the session.  This was such a tease because it showed me I was in fact capable of doing it, I just wasn't capable repeating it.  I tried to keep my frustration at bay because I didn't want to come across completely childish, but as the morning went on, I became more exhausted—therefore less patient—and I had to move down the beach to avoid ruining the surf session for everyone else with my expletives.



I’ve really got to figure this out.