Surfin' in the RSA

All right dudes and dudettes. This next story is totally sick …man. So like, here we go.

Surfing enthusiasts will tell you Cape Town is one of the sport’s Meccas. The first weekend here I was able to experience this knowledge first hand. Early Saturday morning I received a phone call from my coworker Mark asking if I would be down for hitting the waves with him and another intern, Tannis. Although I’ve often fantasized about growing out my hair and being a beach bum in some exotic locale I have never actually surfed before. Did I want to risk the freezing cold water? Absolutely. Would I look funny in a wetsuit? I was counting on it. So without much further consideration I decided to devote the rest of the day to getting pummeled by the ocean. Being a decent snowboarder (and a former very-mediocre skateboarder) I’m actually surprised I had never given this aqueous sport a try. I’m thinking growing up in Minnesota, a thousand miles from the nearest coast, probably had something to do with it.

After briefly experimenting with all the wrong ways to put on an obnoxiously bright wet suit I was ready to meet my new best friend – the blue whale of surfboards, a 10 foot buoyant plank which had the tendency to smack unsuspecting Capetonians on its way down to the beach. I nicknamed it the Beast. Although a storm loomed threateningly in the distance, and clouds rimmed the horizon, the sun continued to shine on us the entire day. With the wetsuit the water didn’t seem that cold, even for the Southern-Hemispheres “winter”. Compared to the rugged northern woods of Minnesota and north shore of Lake Superior this whole Atlantic didn’t seem so tough.

Now on to the meaty stuff. Mark, who grew up surfing, gave me a crash course in what to do. What follows was the basic lesson plan. 1) Go in ocean. 2) Find big wave. 3) Swim. 4) Stand up. 5) Surf and look cool…Piece of cake. The first time around I got through steps 1 – 3 just fine, but when it came time to “stand up” I did so only to find that the wave was now in front of me and I sank pathetically into the ocean. Refusing to be beaten I turned around and tried again. This time I made it up. I was officially a surfer! Riding this wave was a kick. It felt a little like snowboarding, only falling tasted saltier.

The next hour or so was spent on steps 4 and 5. Although I can’t say I necessarily looked “cool” I definitely looked upright (a step in the right direction). However, the fun didn’t last long. Surfing requires a lot of awkward swimming motions to maneuver the board in the water. This was very difficult on my shoulder, which had been dislocated last November in a vicious, freak-broomball accident. During my surfing expedition the ball of the shoulder would occasionally “pop” out of the socket a little. Now, I’m no doctor but I can’t imagine that’s healthy…or normal. At one point, just as I was pushing up onto my feet, my shoulder became dislodged and I was unable to put it back in place. With one arm contorted awkwardly I used the other to grip the Beast and weather the wave, body surfing all the way back to shore. Tannis said I should probably sit out the rest of the day. As I popped my shoulder back into place I had to agree with her.

Although my surfing experience was cut short, it was still really enjoyable. Everything aside from the damaging-my-body part was sweet. The next day I started rehab on my injured joint and it’s definitely getting better (I’m sure you’re all worried). I’ll have to figure out a way to fix my shoulder so it doesn’t bother me. Otherwise I’d imagine my career as a professional surfer will end in an early retirement and I’d have to stick to other beach activities – like lounging around or burying people in the sand. Definitely not as cool.