Reality Bites: A Note To The Supercoach
First up: I mean you no disrespect, Mr Van Bastolaer. Few surfers in history have been more generous, stoked, or filled with genuine mana, or know better every inch of the world’s most extraordinary reef break than your good self. Please take what follows as the whimsical thought experiment it is.
But, sir, your kindness took my fledgling surfing life and drove a knife through its heart the moment it was conceived.
I am a well-to-do sportsperson/model/tech-innovator/VIP of moderate renown, and because my expertise lies within Kelly Slater’s esoteric field of interest, I was invited to the Lemoore/Abu Dhabi wave pool recently, where I enjoyed very much my first ever surfing experience.
Raimana, you were wonderfully kind and helpful from the moment we met, and even I, with zero surfing experience, appreciate the phenomenal skill and strength it took for you to ride beside me as the wave began to break, helped me get to my feet, even catching me as I slipped, placing me upright back on my board, getting my feet in the right place, pointing me and my craft in the right direction, and sending me on my way.
It’s impossible to describe the sensations of cutting across that wave – gliding across a million ball bearings, at a speed that takes my breath away, yet in a state of deep stillness as the wave and the world came at me in slow motion – infinite wavelets vibrating through the board and up to my heart. I can never repay you for a joy that I’ll never forget.
But there lies the problem, mate. After Lemoore/Abu Dhabi, I took my memory of that exquisite ride down to the beach, went surfing with the regular folk. Jeez Louise!
How can I reconcile the memory of our time together – of being gently placed into exquisite perfection – with the shit-show of trying to catch waves when I have no idea how they behave; and when I do get lucky, failing to get to my feet a dozen times; and when I do get to my feet, falling off every time anyway?
I have zero patience for this, because I know how it feels on the other side of that chasm between beginner and accomplished.
I should have known – with surfing as with anything – it’s those fumbling steps along the way that make it special: the reward correlating with the effort invested.
Those hard-won milestones – getting to your feet the first time, finding a bit of unbroken shoulder to give you hint of that glide, your first little bank off the top – Huey hands it out in miserly amounts at the start, and that scarcity’s exactly what makes it magic as you prise those little moments open.
It’s not your fault, of course. I commissioned your services – and the perfection of that mechanical wave did the rest – but when you put me in a fireman’s hold and carried me to the mountaintop, your noble act robbed me of the resilience I’d need to pursue this caper.
Or…perhaps it’s a clever ploy on your part? Destroy the scale on someone’s first-ever wave and make the reality of the actual learning curve insufferable by comparison?
The result? One less surfer in the lineup!
If this is the case … well played, good sir, well played! The legend grows.
// DING ALLEY
Comments
In case you're wondering.
Sound on too.
How s the shape of that little rebound wave out back.
Oooh, this was a bittersweet one.
The "million ball bearings" so evocative (I always think of teflon), and then the sad circus of the tub and all that ride it.
The cartoon pic nails it for me.
I agree totally. It's genius.
Took me 2 days to catch this one particular first of many first waves once. An absolute pearler, 1ft peeling through, with me gliding on it.
Until this guy and his pregnant wife walked out, waist deep into my line and I had to bail. Sweet memories.
Pools would be sooo much easier.
surfing is a different experience for everybody.
My memories of learning back in the eighties with crap wetsuits, ill proportioned hard surfboard and cold water were a bit different.
It was more like going into a mediaeval battle ground ready to be humbled and smashed. Coming out cold and dazed and wondering how anyone could master this.
More masochistic but I still loved it.
At first I thought you had to go out when it was big to learn to surf, that didn't end well. That and the fact that there were a sum total of zero actual surfers who wanted to help you on your journey or impart any knowledge. Cold hostility was all you could hope for.
Wetties in the late 70's , Ha! how stiff were they. My first one was an old diving suit that had a collar and zipped up the front. Even when they improved through the 80's you ended up with chaffing. It looked like I was a hit with the girls covered in love bites around my neck during my teens.
My first number was a purple and black long John dive suit. Purple up top, black down bottom, 5mm all over. I think it was supposed to be paired with a jacket.
My legs were in a sauna and my torso an ice bath.
My first wettie was like a Hessian sack and was held together wire some sort of glue AND fishing line.
I shit you not. And it was a long arm spring in southern Vicco.
But couldn't wait to get out there after school.
Imagine a thread like this in 20 years time:
'my first wettie was a petro-chemical laden Rip Curl E-bomb that could you believe had zips? I almost scratched my finger on it and got tired shoulders after 2 hours of paddling, I shit you not'
you had a wetsuit, and a board? thats luxury...
Luxury.....spot on Vince -
Wetsuit... as if - When I learnt to surf as a kid my mum threw me a large black garbage bag with holes cut out for my head and arms!....
Board... ha - that was used fence paling that gave me splinters every time I tried to stand up!
Try and tell kids that today and they wont believe ya...
ha, we used to dreeeeeam of fence palings and gar bags.
Ha.. the abuse ridicule and scowls from older surfers when you were learning let alone the wrong boards and no wettie ..and absolutely no advice from anybody i can remember just disapoitment from your parents that you where turning into one of those skeg heads with no future ..Ah goodtimes
You've hit the nail on the head there. Despite all the hardships, we were hooked and loving every minute of it. I've never been so certain of anything in my life the day I decided I wanted to be a surfer. My enthusiasm has not wavered an iota in the subsequent 37 years.
I remember very clearly considering it was 50 odd yrs ago when i made it out the back for the first time on what i remember as big day (probably only head high) at the age of about 10 . Thinking fuck this im going back in took of to late on a wave got spat down it with the white water couldnt see and never been so fast on a board before still lying down hanging on to the bouncing thing unable to steer and feeling rather uncomftable about it all ran smack into one of the locals on his way back out .While he ripped my legrope of he absofuckinglutely made me aware that he wasnt happy gave me solid clout across the ear and sent my board towards the beach with outme and on the swim in i decided i was never going near another surfboard or them fkrs on em again ...lasted about a day but didnt go near the lineups for a bit..
What is it, $10K+ for an hour session in the tub with Raimana?? It would be funny to see how someone who just learnt in a pool deal with the real thing for the first time. I do imagine the attrition rate would be quite high.
After the pool maybe a couple of sessions with other super coaches might be needed.
I recommend learning Wave Ki.
In the mid seventies we had one board to share between three of us and no wetsuits untill I found a rip curl front zip no sleeve jacket on Torquay golf course and swapped it with an older local for a torn up spring suit that at least fitted. As cold as I must have been I have no memory of being uncomfortable in the slightest nor of the sunburn and ground up nipples that my mum reminds me of, all I recall is the force of the waves pushing as I bounced along in front of it and that buzz when a close out would backoff a little and allow me a split second of FaceTime, some of those moments are the clearest memories of childhood with fun that I can't imagine being matched on any man made wave ever.
Beautifully put mate.
It’s been my view for some years now that every surf school graduate is compulsorily required to buy and surf a 5’8” hypto crypto for two years .
That should slow em up a. Bit
Ha ha!
1970's as a 14 year old surfing Pines in winter with my brother on a late '60's plank that weighed a ton, Wore a woolen jumper, corduroy trousers, socks and sneakers, with a warm change of clothes waiting on the beach! That first wetty was heaven!
Here's a good one. Does anyone here remember being so cold after a surf that you couldn't turn the key in the lock of your car. Not such a problem now with push button unlock but it used to be a thorny one. Also I just reckon you don't get that cold with modern suits.
Yep. Was the bitter reality surfing through a Danish winter (~0 deg water). Trick was to leave keys in the ignition and doors unlocked, rush into the car post surf and turn the key before your hands turned into blocks of concrete.
This was in the 80s in shitty windsurf drysuits and diving gloves. And the waves were worse, but worth it.
Haha, you beat me on that one islandbay, I can't compete with that. Lucky the crime rates weren't bad in Denmark, coming in to no car would have been life threatening!
Sure can...... you hands became claw like all knotted and twisted
Sure do . Myself and Macca, (who draws the Ding Alley illos) surfed Bells for six hours midwinter in our Piping Hot smoothies (seconds I recall) in the mid '80s. Two hours at Rincon, two hours at centreside, two hours at Southside. Our hands were useless claws and it took much fumbling and swearing to unlock Macca's Datsun.
The mighty Datsun and Piping Hot both sadly fallen by the wayside.
Six hour session is hardcore given the conditions and the gear!
Great piece Gra, gentle ribbing of the schism we find ourselves in between the generations of surfers.
Surfing never used to be a thing that you could buy your way into, it required equal graft from everyone but now I'm not so sure; wave pools, exclusive rights at class waves and surf coaches pushing clients in at Keramas. Where are we headed?
The mighty Datsun and Piping Hot both sadly fallen by the wayside.
Six hour session is hardcore given the conditions and the gear!
Great piece Gra, gentle ribbing of the schism we find ourselves in between the generations of surfers.
Surfing never used to be a thing that you could buy your way into, it required equal graft from everyone but now I'm not so sure; wave pools, exclusive rights at class waves and surf coaches pushing clients in at Keramas. Where are we headed?
"Cold enough to freeze the retreads off a 180B",, The Nugget (movie)
Walked a short distance home after an early before school one day and my hands were that frozen, I couldn't undo the velcro on the back of my old wetty that holds the zip up. The olds were at work and I had about 5 minutes to get on the school bus. Didn't make it.
My parents didn't believe me so they tried to ground me from surfing for a week. I told them I wasn't bullshitting and they could ground me all they like, it wouldn't stop me. They said they'd make it a month if I did.
I suited up next day and gleefully announced to them that I was going for a paddle. They looked pretty pissed about it, mumbled something under their breaths and probably gave up all hope for me after that. Let's just say they weren't really big on "surfies" to begin with.
That little rebellious moment was the beginning of many more to come.
Great story, loved that.