Storm Rider: Life of a Surfer | #7

Being back on the coast reminds me of how much surfing is my life

Hi friends,

I am currently back with family in Perth, Australia. I took time off, even from writing this week, so I’ve decided to share a piece I’d written earlier (Jan 2022, to be exact). It’s about my life surfing the English south coast of Newquay in Cornwall during the pandemic. Being by the coast always reminds me of how much surfing embodies my philosophy and way of life. Enjoy!

Today we cycled and swam on this island called Rottnest. Yes, this place IS real!

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Timed to pull me out of my reverie right before first light, the alarm buzzes. I roll out of bed and into my bikini. Hazy and half asleep, I stumble into the bathroom and slide into my 5 mm wetsuit. The wetsuit left to dry from the day before shocks me with its cool temperature. I feel a little more awake. I pull on my surfing hood, tug the neck of the wetsuit over my head and zip the front zipper that crosses my chest diagonally. With each step, more cold transfers onto my skin. It never fails to send a shiver through my body.

I roll up the wetsuit around my ankles, slide on my wet boots and roll the wetsuit down over the boots. Now my feet are atop a puddle of water inside the neoprene boots. This puddle of water will soon be a source of warmth. I twist my earplugs in and slip on my crab claw gloves also 5 mm of neoprene. 

Only pic I can find of the outfit — was a time when I was rushing to finish work while already in my wetsuit ready for the evening waves!

I am in my dawn patrol uniform. Out in the hallway, I pick up my board under one arm. I pull the handle of the front door with force, swinging it as far open as it would go and rush out. I only ever make it half out before it threatens to slam right into my surfboard and so I have to inch my way out while keeping the door opened. 

I drag my surfboard down the two flights of stairs and I am finally out in the open. Suddenly my adrenalin picks up. It always does. A mixture of cold winter air, yesterday’s seawater on my skin and the anticipation of a surf session. I feel the excitement rise up inside me as much as the first time I stood up on a board. The feeling never gets old. Full of excitement and propelled by the chance that I might get to be the very first person in the ocean, I start running with the surfboard under my left arm towards the vast open ocean. It is waiting for me to ride its powerful energy. 

Surfing Towan Beach in Cornwall’s surf capital, Newquay back in November 2020

My breed has been called by a number of different names over time. Dawn patrol for we patrol the ocean at dawn hunting for good waves. Storm riders for we ride waves right after a storm has taken place. And because a storm has taken place and I am out at first light, this morning I am both a dawn patroller and a storm rider.

I never surf in the storm. It is too dangerous. But like storms, there is uncertainty in surfing. There is uncertainty in every single wave. Out in the ocean, it is you versus mother nature.

Mother nature can work in your favour but she owes you nothing.

Not even your life.

Knowing this is both horrifying but exhilarating at the same time. You are at her utter mercy.

Every single wave is different; every single ride is different. You would never try to master each and every wave. You'd only try to master the method of understanding how to navigate those waves. This is one of the most humbling experiences in life. 

No two waves are the same. There is too much at play. The depth of the bed beneath the water; the material that bed is made from; the wind speed; the wind duration; the distance of wind travel over open water; direction of tide; the speed of tide.

Each wave is a new adventure; a new obstacle course; a new landscape. But the more time you spend in the water learning to be with the wave; make friends with it; ride it, the more you become in sync.

Each wave is a lesson to be learnt, a part of you to be torn down and shaped.

Some waves are more unforgiving than others but learning to ride them; to have faith in your method is learning to get better at trusting your gut instinct. 

Mother Nature and its force through the strength of the swell has lessons to teach and if you are willing to learn, each wave will teach you something and serve to reshape you towards a different being.