Not necessarily a new surf trip, but a repeat.
When I left my last post at Imperial College to move to California, I promised my Prof that I would return in a few months for the lab's alumni party. In less than 3 months, I rocked up half dazed from a beer on the sunny side of the canal in East London, hyper after watching the Women's Street League Skateboarding Pro qualifying round. As I entered the underground 1920s styled bowling alley in our black tie cocktail dresses and happily painted faces, a few people genuinely asked if I was ok, which felt strangely remarkable. Three months ago I gave my last sub-group talk. It was hyper-emotional, strung together data with tears of pain, stymied by questions of “What will happen next?”. I had a plan to start my own company. But then... surfing. Everyone asked me what I was doing, and I wanted to lie and say nothing. But I just told the truth; I work as hard as I can learning colloidal chemistry to make new products for a brilliant skin care company, part-time. The rest of the 24 hours, I surf, eat, sleep, and dream. Actually I said it the other way around. I surf and then some other stuff. It felt strange telling my Prof I am uber-obsessed with surfing and not collagen. Well, that is not true, I almost had (and probably will have) words with a newspaper for their ill-advised article on collagen.
I stayed a few hours, had too many beers (1.5) and talked to the many wonderful minds. Then I jumped on the overnight bus to Newquay, because... surfing.
London was exceptionally warm this day, and as life does, reality hit us at midnight. Lightening irradiated the skies as they opened and drained off days of rain in a few moments. The flooded highways and the road rage of a misunderstood bus driver certainly would cause anyone to rethink their motive for being on an overnight National Express bus from London to Newquay. I got in at 6 am and slept for a few hours before heading out with Mike from Escape Surf School. Recall I wanted to return to Reubin and tell him, that everything he taught me last year June, I have kept true to my heart and use everyday. You know that turn I am trying to perfect in the pool? Ruebin taught me that. How to know a swell is coming in, Ruebin taught me that. How to read that my body and mind are not connected, yep, that was Ruebin too. But as luck would favour (prepared mind or not), I got put in the semi-intermediate session where Mike taught us how to do an s-turn on our boards.
Towan was nearly flat with intervals of a few 1-2 ft waves. When they came, they were short but glassy smooth with enough time to make an attempt at an S. It was difficult, as the school had a large beginner class, and Reubin was booked for a private session. But even in these few moments of not too many waves, I did not regret the sleepless 14 hours I bussed to and from London.
Set your stance, weight evenly distributed, with the stringer in the middle of your arches. Squat, grab the rail, let your shoulders sit back, guiding hand slightly behind and toes slightly up, heels into the board. WOOOOAAAAAHHH. Back to the stance, go straight. Then weight in toes, head slightly over rail…RAAAAAHHH!! I barely got to do this. I am still a beginner who struggles with a third world squat. But what a lesson!! One thing worth mentioning: I was cold (a few days later I am coughing out my lungs in Copenhagen). This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I bought my own 4/3 wetsuit. As much as I love being in the cold water, I prefer to have my heart kept warm by woollen lining. Anyway, after the session, I had a quick chat with Reubin, my heart leapt when he said, “I saw you catch a few waves.” (read between those lines). I was glad he saw that I was trying. After meeting several surf instructors, only a few I connect to. The extra care I have for Ruebin or Zé or João or Aym, I have not assessed yet. My current theory is that I care because they cared. The surf instructors who were patient with me and taught me more than standing on a board in the little time we had together have all created a deeper meaning than just riding a wave. Although I surf for my soul, I’d like them to know that their time (precious as time is) was not wasted with me.
I tried to relive the first time I went to Newquay but this time it was very different. Less alcohol for one, and no hostel, two. But most importantly, it felt like another connection was made at Towan, and Fistral. Another surf home, maybe. With the great food and even greater people it was all Lush, as they say. It was lush.
