On Surfing

 

I still remember the first time I surfed. The first time I surfed is actually far removed from the first time I experienced surfing. I had been surfing for a considerable time really but the first time I really caught a wave remains etched in my mind. It was sunny. I was in Saunton and the board I had was borrowed from the shop I worked in. It was the ‘General Lee’. A 10’, bright orange longboard with a confederate flag sprayed on the deck. I trimmed along a small peeling wave, and I felt alive. Well, that’s how I remember it today anyway.

My first experience of surfing was very different. That was in the winter. It was cold. It was wet and it was windy. It was probably quite big too, not that it mattered as I hardly ventured out of my depth. So wary was I of what felt like the sublime fury of the Atlantic Ocean. 

I came down with some friends who were into surfing. I was so stoked to have been able to come along. I borrowed a wetsuit, a grey Billabong 3/2. Flat lock stitching meant the water seeped through the seams and it was freezing. I had no boots, no gloves and certainly no hood. It was the nineties and I had recently been medically discharged from the army. A breach explosion in the chain gun I was firing had a ‘cook off’ and I was left partially sighted. It was all a life changing experience.

That day we ‘surfed’ Saunton, Croyde and Putsbourough. I struggled at every beach and loved every minute.