Adventures in finding my aquatic niche.
By Andrea Wright
Since moving to Hawaii two years ago, I’ve been eager to try new adventures. I braved wading through rocky streams on hiking trails, dabbling in hula, climbing through volcanic caves, and jumping off steep cliffs. But, much to my dismay, I failed at surfing
Admittedly, I’m not very coordinated, but I thought I’d be able to pick up surfing after a few tries. Wrong. I seemed to get progressively worse the more I tried. I couldn’t even carry the board to the water, let alone stand on it. Paddling was doable but tiring, but I was a pro at sitting on the board.
After four whole-hearted sessions, two collisions, days of sore shoulders, and one surfer who told me I was “going to kill someone out here,” I threw in the towel.
But my favorite part of surfing was catching a good wave and helplessly holding on as the strength of the sea charged me toward the shore. (Of course, that’s probably because I never actually stood up, but I digress.) Not wanting to desert the water completely, I decided that bodyboarding would be my new hobby.
I had some experience bodyboarding. I remember countless summers at the New Jersey shore, riding the waves for hours with my dad when I was a little girl. I’d cling to his back as he caught a wave, loving the exhilarating feeling of being swallowed by the sea.
As I got older, he’d teach me certain tricks – keep your chest up, hold the board tightly, take a deep breath, and … here it comes … kick! With a little nudge and precise timing, I’d be sailing through the water – eyes burning, water shooting up my nose, and not knowing which way was up. This was one of my fondest memories of childhood.
So I made plans to go bodyboarding with my friend Melvin. “You’ll need fins,” he said. What? But Dad never used fins. “And I’ll have to teach you a few moves first.” Suddenly I realized, I’m not in Jersey anymore. I reluctantly purchased a cheap pair of fins, and off we went to Waimanalo Beach.
My first lesson was a duck dive. I paid little attention when Melvin demonstrated this move; my plan was to just get out there and do it. But I quickly realized how necessary the technique was when the second wave clobbered me and sent my board flying. The idea of the duck dive is to push yourself and the board under the wave, so you don’t end up sprawled on the shoreline like I did.
After a few insignificant rides wearing the fins, I decided to ditch them. It was impossible to stand with them, and at this point my focus was more on staying afloat than catching a wave. “It’s harder without fins. You’ll have to kick faster,” Melvin warned. He was right, but at least I could regain my composure at the end of the ride.
Slowly, I began to catch on. Granted, I had plenty of wipe-outs, but I learned what waves to catch, when to start kicking, and how to keep my chest up if I didn’t want to do a nose-dive. Melvin joked that I was riding like a tourist – arms stretched in front of me, head close to the board, and riding straight in. After watching his technique, I understood what he meant. He propped himself up on his elbows and angled himself to ride along the crest of the wave. But, I argued, I had to start somewhere.
After an hour, I was tired and battered. Since I hadn’t mastered the ever-important duck dive, I was repeatedly knocked around attempting to get over the waves with my board. Although the near-drowning sensation brought back memories of childhood, I could have done without choking on water this time around.
Overall, I really enjoyed the experience, but didn’t like worrying about the board (same goes for surfing). But I think I’m getting closer to finding my watersport of choice. So, I’ve decided that body-surfing will be my next adventure. No fins, no boards, no leashes – just me and the water.
“What are you waiting for? Try now,” Melvin coaxed.
Maybe next time. Right now, I need a nap.
