Margot's Musings

When I was in Fiji I decided that it was time to attempt my childhood dream of learning how to surf. One of the older guys offered to show me the ropes. “They’re really small today, so you should have no problems,” he said motioning behind him to what I had considered pretty decent waves. “Um, ok” I coolly answered. After lying beached whale like on top of my board for a few moments, he offered to help me “read the surf” and get me started on a few waves. After a few failed impromptu attempts and much salt water up my noes, he left me with a cheery: “Have fun lovie, remember that’s the most important thing!”

Fun. Yup, that’s why I was up at the crack of dawn in an unattractive wetsuit. This was supposed to be enjoyable. I continued to try convince myself of this simple truth as I battled the “small” surf, with significantly smaller arm muscles. It was only a matter of time.

The ocean was definitely winning this one. I’d been out for almost 30 minutes and I’d managed only 2 unsuccessful attempts. I realized that part of this was due to intimidation. The great big sea is quite a force to be reckoned with. In my nose-watered, eyes prickling, wetsuit rash state, I was starting to understand the extent of her power. Despite my slow progress on the actual surf front, I was learning one of the greatest lessons of the sport. While we attempt to harness the might of her force, the sea is ultimately in control. You need to understand and respect this. You are a bobbing coconut and she will treat you as such if you don’t learn to read and temper her moods.

I paddled out in another half hearted, arm-weak attempt. I turned to check my markers on land, and was brought back to the present moment by a friend’s yell alerting me to the big wave encroaching on my personal space. There was nothing else to do. I gripped the edge of my board, tensed my legs and prepared for the imminent wall of water onslaught. Miraculously, I managed to hang on. I felt the rush of break propelling me forward, its white misty froth blurring my view. In a moment of connection, I lifted myself onto one knee. I felt the ocean egg me on. I tensed my stomach muscles, and brought myself standing. This glory lasted the briefest of moments, but I had done it. I had stood up on a wave.

As I paddled back out, I could hardly contain the grin on my face. I knew I had a long way to go, but I felt the initiation stages were easing up. Somehow, the Ocean and I were going to come to an understanding.