Surf’s Up
Learning to surf in my 50s
Learning to surf was always on my bucket list. I grew up in the Santa Cruz area, with ample opportunity to try it — but I never quite fit in with the Santa Cruz vibe. I couldn’t tan, I hadn’t been blonde since 7th grade, I wasn’t effortlessly athletic. I ran more to Janeane Garofalo in Romy & Michelle. It bugged me, because it looked like something I might enjoy.
Fast forward to age 52. I used quarantine (and the lack of a two hour commute) to pick up new hobbies, including guitar. It’s part of an overall approach to fixing my perfectionism problem. If I’m not naturally good at something, I don’t try it, which means I miss out on some really special things. I’m encouraging my daughters not to live that way — and decided I needed to take my own advice. So here I am, trying two things that don’t come easy. At least with guitar, the chances of injuring myself are slim. As my supportive friend Scott in Melbourne said: “Way to go for picking-up the most physically challenging sport, in the coldest waters, with the wonkiest waves. What’s after this, a picnic on Everest…?”
My first opportunity came during a trip to Santa Barbara last July, checking out college with my 17 year old daughter. I saw an ad for a local surf school and thought: why not? Why not now? With some extreme coaxing, I got my daughter to agree to a 9am lesson in Ventura at Mondo’s. It was heaven: the sun was out, it was warm, the waves were gentle at this beginner beach, and we had a gorgeous young instructor named Ally who was so kind and supportive. She showed us how to pop up to our feet on the beach, and we practiced a few times before going in the ocean. I got to my feet on the very first baby wave she pushed me into. I thought: I’m a natural. This is my new life.
Fast forward to my next experience. I signed up with a local surf school called Adventure Out, bought a secondhand wetsuit, and took a two-day class in Pacifica. Due to COVID-19 and raging fires and bad air quality, the first lesson was rescheduled a few times. We finally hit the beach on a grey, foggy day with terrifying surf conditions. My beginner’s luck might have manifested as a bit of cockiness. But learning to surf here wasn’t like doing it in Southern California. It was more like being punched in the face repeatedly by the ocean while trying to stagger through the breaking waves with a 9 foot board.
Forget that bit about being a natural. I was a beginner, and a terrible one at that. I could barely get to my feet, and when I did I would promptly fall right off. But the instructors were amazing, the laughs were non-stop, I made new friends (shout out to Rachael and Rohit!) and I didn’t regret it for a moment. Except that one experience where I got so cold I couldn’t unzip my wetsuit afterward, and sat in my car crying — I do regret that.
After a couple disastrous attempts to pop up in the whitewater at Pacifica on my own, I almost quit. Then a good friend, Mardi, convinced me to try Bolinas with her and her teen son, and everything turned around. Under her son’s gentle coaching, I got my mojo back. He taught me how to check my balance on the board before paddling into a wave, and not to grip the rails (the edges of the board) which is a one-way ticket to falling off. Under his guidance, I had my first drop-in from the outside (no, I’m not exactly sure what that means either, but he told me I did it so I’m happy about it. Unless it’s a breach of surf etiquette, in which case I’m sorry). Bolinas is sheltered with gentle waves for beginners. Everyone there is learning; there is no attitude. No worries about getting in someone’s way and being yelled at. My favorite moments were bobbing around on the outside with other surfers, chatting them up, feeling at peace withe world, no electronic distractions. A wave starts forming and one guy shouts “This is it friends! WE’RE GOING HOME!” and we all turn our boards around and point toward shore and start paddling.
This new hobby is HARD. You practice popping up on the beach and think you’ve got it, but it’s nothing like doing it in the water when an instructor is yelling “PADDLE!!!” at you. I haven’t mastered how to do it gracefully yet. And speaking of paddling — a big part of surfing is getting out to the right spot. It’s exhausting. The first few times in Bolinas, I got so tired from paddling out (especially to the Patch, an area further out) that I couldn’t paddle hard enough to catch a wave. It takes incredible upper body strength. And flexibility! Yoga helps, especially cobra and warrior pose. Strength, balance and flexibility are required, and I’m so proud of all the people over 50 out there giving it their all. It doesn’t even matter if you get to your feet. It’s a huge accomplishment simply paddling out and bobbing around in the waves. Once you’re done, you have to carry your board back to the car. That is not as easy as it sounds when you’re wiped out.
I was a bit worried that surfing would be like skiing for me (or cooking) — a lot of effort and build-up for a very short payoff. While it’s indeed a lot of effort and build-up — getting up early to secure a parking spot and hauling gear around — the payoff is immense, and it’s not just when you’re riding a wave. Being out in the water, seeing seals pop their doggie faces up next to you, watching pelicans fly overhead, being free from digital distractions, and bobbing in the waves on your board next to fellow addicts — it’s heaven. All of it. Especially the enormous meal you get to have afterward because you’ve earned it. And beer! I don’t even like beer, but now post-surfing, a beer is just what the surf doctor ordered.
I made it to Maui this summer for a post-vaccination graduation trip for my daughter. While there, I reconnected with a friend from the Santa Cruz music scene. Joe was a former surf instructor now living the easy life on the West Shore. There was an island wide shortage of rental cars, so we got around by hitching rides on his Door Dash deliveries and taking tacos and burgers all over the west shore. He introduced me to the wonders of sunset surfing at Launiupoko Beach on his fiberglass board with a GoPro. I’m still catching baby waves and doing the slow beginner pop up — more of a slow crawl-up, really — but the point is, I’m getting out there.
Another thing about new hobbies is that they lead to new friends. Rachel lives in my town and was thrilled to find a like-minded pal. We’ve gone out twice together, and last time brought along two others who bought wetsuits and boards and geared up for midlife surfing.
As I write this, I’m still smiling from my Bolinas outing last week. Rachel and I got up at the crack of dawn and drove out in her old stick shift truck, feeling rather badass for a couple of middle-aged broads. It was a short outing, but I had the most amazing ride of my nascent surfing career. I don’t remember catching the wave, all I remember is standing up and suddenly I was flying toward the beach with two guys flanking me, all three of us grinning from ear to ear. The guy on my left reached out his hand for a high five. Not being quite good enough to get closer to him without hitting him, I leaped off my board and gave him a perfect high five on the way down into the water. It was bliss.
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Lessons from learning to surf in my 50s
- Do something athletic! I think especially for girls, being athletic during the high school years pays dividends down the road, since it encourages you to focus more on what your body can do instead of what it looks like. After one ill-fated semester running track simply to pad my college application, I gave up anything athletic. It just wasn’t for me. But it’s never too late to start! So get out there. It isn’t about what you look like, it’s about what you do.
- The women who surf are beautiful, in that natural, I-don’t-give-a-f*ck way. The best way. I want that. As a first step, I ditched the push-up, padded, squished, won’t-stay-in-place suit for a functional one from Athleta and didn’t look back.
- Sunblock!!! Oh my God use sunblock. Not the drugstore stuff, get the surf store stuff that turns you into someone from the Blue Man Group. And it’s still not enough if you’re as pale as I am. I’ve now got freckles on my cheekbones despite waterproof SPF 80, and the back of my legs burnt to a crisp paddling out in Maui. I just placed an order for a facekini. I’ll look like a complete fool but I don’t care. Uh, I think I don’t care. I’ll report back.
- Everyone pees in their wetsuit, I’m told. Except for me. Mine is so tight that the one time I gave in and did it, the pee pooled up inside the suit and didn’t leave. My friend told me to swish it out by scooping ocean water in through the neck hole. I tried it. The now-diluted ocean water pee combo pooled up in my right calf, giving me one normal calf and one giant inflated calf as I squelched up the beach looking like I had an inflatable leg. I plan to simply suffer from now on and hold it.
- Choosing a surfboard to buy is hard! Like guitars, everyone has an opinion. I am paralyzed with indecision — go for the Costco beginner board or something with a bit more longevity? The more people I ask, the more confused I get. So I am continuing to surf on a borrowed 9 foot foamie.
- Going surfing might be the only time I’m happy to wake up at the crack of dawn on a weekend. It’s like morning worship.
Shout-out to all the people who encouraged and supported me in this — especially Scott, Alan, Hootrider Joe, Maria, Rachel, Mardi and Koan, Rachael and Rohit.
