My First Surf Lesson
“Me llamo Charlie,” he said with a grin, and the name fit him well. Half Indian, half California surfer man, Charlie wore big hip silver police sunglasses but his lips were wide and flat, betraying his indigenous roots. His hair fell to his shoulders in streaming brown waves which he tucked behind his ears when he nodded “yes” the way that only real surfer dudes do. He had streaked it blond and I couldn’t help imagining him among adolescent girls in the supermarket, picking out just the right color and then applying it in his cinder block bedroom back home, grinning all the time.
Charlie was a fun guy, or dude, really. He turned the music up in his beater car and sang along. He rolled down the windows and shouted at the people we almost killed as we sped past. Then he’d sit back in his chair and giggle. Charlie made me laugh but he was by no means a good surf instructor.
The typical land lesson came first. Our boards in the sand of la Playa Linda, we paddled, stood, and rode those waves! Then it was time to get in the water. La Playa Linda is a long, rare stretch of restaurant and umbrella-free beach lined by a seemingly endless grove of palm trees.
From the shore Charlie pointed to the waves, his long hair blowing in the wind, and into the rough waters we plunged. The boys made it past the breakers with ease buy I found myself fighting with each wave, dragging my board into the rushing foam which would knock me down and then my board would be dragging me back to shore by the leash around my ankle. Charlie helped me by enthusiastically miming swimming motions with his arms from afar.
Soon enough I made it out there and watched from my bobbing board as Charlie pulled the boys into the waves, one by one, and yelled “arriba!,” which meant “now stand!” Most of them flopped, rolling in the sea foam. Cyril stood, of course, and then decided to go off on his own to catch some bigger waves. Charlie pulled my board into the waves a few times and yelled “arriba!” and I stood! And I fell. Once, twice, five times I fell and let the waves toss me around.
“Now try on your own!” Charlie said, and went off to help someone else for the rest of the lesson. I looked to him for mimed advice as he tossed his hair in the waves and I wondered why surf lessons cost $25 an hour.
Tags: Travel
bonniecaton
January 26th, 2007 at 12:05 pm
Go to Hawaii for surf lessons. In the summer the waves are small and the “I’m just learning” boards are BIG…great for stability. The lessons may cost the same but I guarantee you will stand on those hulkin’ boards. Heck, you may be able to even do a jig they are that stable.
Sounds like the car ride was an adventure too!
-momma
January 26th, 2007 at 2:47 pm
Ha, your surf lesson sounds as productive as my snowboard lesson. Sounds like fun though, I hope you had some good food and beer afterwards.
February 1st, 2007 at 9:24 am
I gave Layson snowboard lessons last week and she says the back foot kick out technique reminds her of surfing in Hawai’i. So maybe I’d be a natural and we could go to Hawai’i and go surfing….I miss you bon.
February 4th, 2007 at 8:20 am
This is a great account of your times down south Bonnie! It’s been such a nice respite from our strangely cool winter here in Oregon to click on this blog and be transported far away with your wonderful, descriptive passages!