What Surfing's All About

Yesterday I enjoyed perhaps my most fabulous hour with a surfboard. Nearly two hours in the water but the first half of that was the nuts!

The plan was to go out at Combesgate but it was soooooooo busy. Forget it. I may be getting better now but I still prefer to avoid the crowds if possible. It was low pushing tide and from the top I saw a nice wave nearby with nobody on it so I went for that. After paddling out I realised there really was a good little wave here: 2-3ft right, clean, tubing a little. After my first wipeout had thrown my board painfully into my arm in the whitewater (for a moment I was worried I may not be able to carry on and I've got a bruise the size of my hand to show for it,) I caught a couple of lovely waves. This is what it's all about - I was thinking. I was soon joined by a nice fella called Phil (from Woolacombe) on his 8ft longboard and we shared some great sets while chatting inbetween. Nobody else joined us. The pleasure in finding a lovely quiet little wave, finding I'm a competent enough surfer now to really surf waves like this (scooting along and cutting up and off the wave just as it closes out) and sharing the waves with a friendly surfing soul. This is what I had hoped surfing was all about when I started five months ago. Beautiful.

Finally after surfing in and falling in the whitewater I felt the rocks under my feet and thought it time to paddle on in search of a different wave, but I knew that was really it for the evening. Regardless, I happily stayed in as long as the autumn light would let me. My feet slapped their way up to the car in the dark; with the lights of Woolacombe sparkling - as if they knew how I was feeling.


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