Surfin' Devon-aaaay

I think surfing might be my new calling. Since I can remember I've had a bit of a fear of large expanses of open water, and this has been coupled with a major 'Big Jessie'-ishness about getting into cold water. But again, I'm over all that nonsense, and since we have been holidaying on the doorstep of two of Devonshire's finest surfy hotspots, I felt compelled to give it ago.

Batting away the ridicule from my family I hired a wetsuit and a body-board (let's start slowly) and skipped off down to the shore. Gnarly. I ignored the coldness, and boy was it freezamondo, and just ran/lurched into the surf, Croyd had some fantastic waves and it didn't take long to be submerged. My feet were painfully cold for about 5 minutes, but the rest of me actually felt toasty warm in my fetching wetsuit (I think they're a little bit sexy?). The bay was pleasingly full of gnarly surf-dudes and I realised my new venture had an secondary interest level.

The waves came thick and fast and it was knackering, working my way out a bit before I was carried straight back in on a crest. Well, kind of. It felt great; exhilarating and as though I knew exactly what I was doing - but I'm sure it looked a little like floundering. After about 30 minutes I heard an announcement from the lifeguards van and involving the words 'rip tide'. Looking up I realised I had drifted a long way down the bay, and then I noticed two figures leaping up and down on the sand and generally behaving in quite a loopy manner. Aha - Mum and Dad. I made a bit of a note to self to make my next surfing trip one without les parentals. Bless their hearts. So I waded out and that was it for Day One of new surfing hobby.

But it's given me a bit of a bug and back I went today - of course, just my luck, we had bit of a mill-pond situation in both Woolacombe and Croyd. 'Flat as a witch's tit' said my brother. But I was determined to follow it through, so I hired the kit again and spent an hour bobbing about, with a light paddle every now and again. I think I caught one wave. Lots of disappointed gnarly dudes bobbed alongside me in the stillness and there were several pointless lessons going on. Some were just having lessons in bobbing.

However - I have several friends who love surfing too, and now I know that hopping into freezing British waters isn't half so bad when you're encased head to toe in rubber, there will definitely be more trips planned. Certainly if I've anything to do with it. The only downside was no feeling in either foot for an hour or so after I'd towelled off, but - hey, no pain no gain.

Surf's most definitely up!