Surf Camp
It’s been over a week since I left for surf camp, and although the trip was only two and a half days, I’ve spent a good portion of the time since recovering, which is why I’ve only just gotten around to posting about it. Still, apologies for the delay, and without further ado, here is my full report. No pictures I’m afraid, cameras and the ocean don’t mix.
Day One
The trip began outside Sydney Central YHA, where I was told to be waiting at 7.15pm for a ‘luxury coach’, which would pick us up and take us 3 hours up the coast to a place called Bulahdelah, where the surf school is based. When I got there, a small handful of people were scattered outside. I considered approaching some of them to see if they were also waiting to go to surf school, but it’s a busy hostel, and there were a lot of people coming and going, so I thought the chances were pretty slim. But mostly I’m just not that sociable.
Eventually and somewhat late, a rusty, battered minibus started to pull round the corner, with We Are The Champions blaring out at full volume. I couldn’t hear that, though, as it was drowned out by the caterwauling of the 15 or so crispy-fried twenty-somethings occupying the bus. Sticking their heads out the windows, and constantly looking around to make sure they had the full attention of the passersby (in a totally non-obvious way), they slipped in and out of the song, taking every opportunity between lyrics and mid line to scream and wave.
As the minibus pulled up outside the hostel, it became fairly apparent that this was our ‘luxury coach’, and I felt overwhelmed with a sense of despair when the occupants of the bus beckoned for us all to get on. Now, I love to party as much as the next guy (actually, probably more), and I don’t know, maybe I’m getting old, but I suddenly realised that I actually really did want to learn to surf. Sure, I wanted to have a good time, but I was worried that this trip was going to rapidly degrade into nothing more than a booze-soaked beach party which, while fun, didn’t seem worth the $200 I had paid for the trip. But mostly, I just thought they were a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots.
Much to my elation, it transpired that they were returning from their trip, and were getting off the bus. Not satisfied that they’d sufficiently caught the attention of the entire population of New South Wales, they made sure they did this as loudly as possible too. I won’t go into detail, as I feel it’s probably time to move on and start describing my trip rather than theirs, but I will say that we were given warnings not to use the pool or the showers at surf camp. Don’t ask why, you don’t want to know.
Eventually Steve (our driver and surf instructor for the duration of our trip), after a cheeky smooch with a lobster girl from the previous group, managed to get us all onto the bus, and them off. Once they stopped banging on the sides and trying to climb in through the windows (if you’re picturing some kind of Dawn of the Dead scenario, you’d be about right), the bus pulled away. Within a few minutes after that, we pulled up again to pick up a crate of beer, and then we were back on the road.
The trip up to surf camp was pretty uneventful, but did take close to four hours. It probably needn’t have taken that long, but there was a stop for dinner, and then I had to ask Steve to pull over again; drinking beer on a 3-4 hour bus trip was nice and all, but inevitably lead to me needing to pay the price all men must eventually pay to the porcelain god. Anyway, we eventually got to camp at about 11.30pm, to find another group on a surf trip, rather inebriated and gathered round a fire. After dumping our bags in our cabin, a few of us joined them for a drink or two, before turning in for the night.
Day Two
At 7am we got woken up for breakfast, before being given time for a quick freshen up before departure. We were all marched round to the board shed (which is a shed, in which they keep the surf boards), handed a wetsuit, and told to jump on the bus, while Steve attached a trailer to the back carrying all our surf boards. We drove about half an hour to a beach at Booti Booti, where we unloaded the boards and awaited our first lesson. The surf technique they taught us is what they called the ‘four point’ method. It involves four distinct steps in the process between paddling to match the wave and standing up on your surf board. I won’t go into the details here, you’ll just have to try it out for yourself!
Perhaps a little over eager to just get out into the ocean and get on my board, I hit the waves. The water was actually warm, so I shunned the wetsuit in favour of just my boardies. This was a mistake. As we all learned that day, the wetsuit does more than just keep you warm, it offers you protection from sunburn, and the severe chaffing you get on your chest or stomach from the board. Trust me, I’m not exaggerating, it’s severe. My nipples actually scabbed over.
That aside, the actual surfing itself was great fun, and I actually managed to stand up a few times, catch some waves, and do some actual surfing! Most of the other people in the group did much better though, some seemed like naturals. Having said that, at one point when three of us had caught the same wave and seemed headed for a certain collision, on pure instinct alone I managed to steer my board out the way. I would have stayed up, too, if I’d have focused on myself rather than looking back at them over my shoulder and laughing. Yeah, I fell off. And yeah, I deserved it. But my balance is pretty good, and once I was up on my board, I was able to stay up and surf pretty well. Actually standing up is the bit I have yet to master.
After a few hours surfing in the morning we had a break for lunch. After lunch the lesson turned to some more advanced techniques, but unfortunately I had to sit the rest of the day out due to injury. I’m not going to tell you what that injury was. Trust me, you don’t want to know. But needless to say, I spent the next few hours feeling sullen and disappointed, as I watched my surfing companions frolicking in the ocean and catching all the best waves. Not to mention feeling somewhat scared due to the nature of this injury.
After that, we packed up and piled back into the minibus. We headed to a small parade of shops, where most of the group bought crisps and ice cream. I went into a pharmacy to see about tending to my wounds. After that, we all piled back into the bus and headed to a pub (well, a recreation centre/social club, but they had a bar), where we bought a drink and then sat on the shore of a beautiful lake. I didn’t think to ask the name of the lake, I wish I had now.
After we finished our drinks we headed back to base camp. Everyone had a quick shower and freshened up before heading back to the bar/club house for dinner. We wasted no time in getting started on beer and sangria while we waited for dinner to be served. Before to long, the food had been served and eaten, the sun had set, and the party was in full swing. This stayed quite civilised for the first couple of hours, despite a long round of staff vs. guests drinking games, which included dancing on tables.
After a couple of hours, most people went to bed. Believe it or not, surfing is actually quite physically taxing. Still, there were at least 20 or so of us still awake and still drinking. By this point the camp manager had come to join us, and had insisted on ploughing me and and Bill (an air traffic controller from Charlotte, North Carolina, who was on the trip with his wife) with tequila. Things had definitely heated up by this stage, those that were staying the distance were picking up the pace.
The pool party had now lived up to it’s name, with the pool being occupied by a number of people, mostly fully clothed, who had either jumped, or been thrown, in. I was lucky enough to be given some advanced warning that I was next, and with my wallet in one pocket, and my iPhone in another, I did the only sensible thing. I stripped to my underwear and jumped in. It’s safe to say that by now my inhibitions had dropped slightly. But rather than just jump into the pool, I did what at the time seemed like an incredibly clever and macho thing to do. I decided to somersault in, and landed with a resounding smack! sun-burnt back first straight onto the water. Ouch. Still, time for one or two more drinks, and then it was time to go to bed.
Day Three
What seemed like five minutes later, we got the breakfast wake up call. I personally would have preferred more sleep. But I soldiered on, got out of bed, got ready, and headed down to breakfast. After all, I’d come to surf, and surf I would, dammit! So after the same routine as the previous day, we headed off again. This time, we went to a different beach, Seal Rocks. This was, without doubt, the most beautiful beach I’ve ever been to in my life. Admittedly, I haven’t been to many, and the few to which I have been have been overrun by people, ice cream stands, and littered with used condoms, but nonetheless, this was a beautiful place. The water was warm, and also perfectly crystal clear. Chest deep in seawater, I could still see to the bottom.
I was recovered enough from my injury to get back on my board, so I did a bit more surfing. I struggled though, partially because I’d fallen behind the rest of the group, and in my haste and eagerness to keep up, I pretty much ignored the four point method, and spent most of my time trying to jump up on the board. That didn’t work so well. But also, I’d picked up a slightly more advanced board than the one I’d been using the previous day, and I just couldn’t get the traction I needed, which meant my feet kept slipping off. Still, managed to stand up a few times again.
Interestingly, whereas nobody had worn a wetsuit the day before, everyone had one on now. They were short legged though, and while I managed to avoid sunburn nearly everywhere, the backs of my knees got charred to a crisp. I didn’t feel this until hours later, but when I did, I sincerely regretted not applying enough sunscreen there. Unfortunately it was only a morning of surfing, and not a full day, as we needed to head back to Sydney in the afternoon. We packed up just after lunch and headed back to camp.
A quick shower later and we were back on the road. This was what must have been a much quieter trip than the previous group; nearly everyone was asleep. It was uneventful, and after a fun packed couple of days, we arrived back where we started. While I certainly didn’t master the art of surfing, I did learn the basics, and whereas now I’ve got the confidence to head down to a beach on my own, rent a board, and just get out there and practice, there’s no way I would have been able to do that before this trip. I wouldn’t have known where to start. This was a great trip, and I met some lovely people along the way, none of whom I’ll be keeping in touch with, before you ask. Nothing wrong with any of them, but like I said, I’m just not that sociable.
The Week Since
As it’s been a while since my last post I thought I might as well fill in some of the gaps. Like I said at the beginning, for the first couple of days at least, I didn’t do anything other than recover from the trip. I was really badly sunburned, especially on the backs of my knees, which made it particularly difficult to walk. Beleive it or not, I was also sunburned on my scalp. I guess my hair’s not as thick as it used to be, I must be getting old. So the lessons were, lots of sunscreen, re-applied frequently, and wear a hat. It’s all the same advice you hear a million times usually ignore, but having personally experienced the effects of ignoring this advice, I think I’ll be respecting the sun a bit more from now on.
Still, not done much since, a bit more freelance work, a nice brunch on Sunday, and a trip into the City to meet with another recruitment consultant. Got some great advice from her, and while it’s getting closer to Christmas, I remain optimistic about the work situation. Speaking of which, I need to get some more work done, so I’m going to end it there. Blue Mountains next!
Ciao
Matt x
