When I first moved to California, I was determined that I would learn how to surf. As a teenager in Savannah, Georgia I watched surfing competitions on TV whenever I got the chance and dreamt that someday I would shoot the curl.
So, I came to California imagining sunny, sandy beaches and me surfing like a natural. I rushed over to Santa Cruz and took my first surf lesson and found that this was not the beach I had dreamt of. It was cold. I had to wear a wetsuit. And it was cold.
Still, I loved surfing. The feeling of finding that balance point and being propelled gracefully toward the shore. Cold as I was, I was hooked, and soon bought a used board. I spent many weekends pulling on my wetsuit and booties, paddling out into the frigid Pacific Ocean, and trying my best to catch a wave (which I did a couple of times, though never completely mastered the art).
In the end, I gave up on surfing in Santa Cruz. The water is just too cold for this Southern girl. But I’m happy to surf when we visit the warmer waters of Hawaii, and I learned a lot about life from surfing.
Continue reading “Riding the wave”