#5 I blame my sister

I'd like to say she made me do it, but she was trying to help; trying to get me to slow down a bit, and to find something she thought she might like, and we could do together as well.

Slow me down; doing my first (tandem) skydive at 50 had escalated to taking my kids skydiving, to taking a school trip skydiving, to taking my nephews and Jane skydiving. I love flying, and the next logical step (being in the air seems so natural) would be to learn to fly, but I don't have that kind of money. "Richard Hammond did wing walking - you should try that!" We laughed. Then I found the web site, and Rendcomb isn't far from Cardiff. So I did (two in one day so I could do the loop the loop etc). It had escalated and I think my sister thought I needed an intervention.

Jane suggested we try a surfing lesson - it's like flying but cheaper and less dangerous! So we headed off to Rest Bay and Porthcawl Surf School for a taster. Long story short I loved it, Jane didn't get on with the temperature or the cold water in her ears. (She'd rather be running up and down steep mountains or taking part in long races - each to their own.)

I enrolled in a set of four beginners sessions during November two years ago, along with some other cold water nutters. I'm now fairly stable for a short time once I'm up, and catching the occasional green (un-broken) wave. Visiting New Zealand for six weeks evolved from my decision that 2024 would be the year to make some progress with surfing. (I didn't have the time to spend on surfing last year - again my sister's fault, but that's a whole different story.) It's therefore Jane's fault I started surfing and I'm here (I can hear you sighing Jane).

So is it really like flying? Why do I like it? What's it like to learn?

Well, I guess it does, sometimes, very briefly have some similarities with the motion of flying. But only very briefly - certainly for me!

One of the reasons I like surfing is because there's so much to think about and do all at the same time. As a beginner you start riding the white (broken) waves so that you don't have to think too much about what the waves are doing. You do however need to keep an eye on where they are, how fast they're moving, what direction your board is facing, how you're lying on it, where your centre of gravity is, which foot is going where, and how to move your body from horizontal to vertical, whilst making sure your shoulders and feet are facing the right way, bending your knees, but not sticking your bum out. Looking up, because as soon as you look down you fall off. Even when falling off you have to remember to fall flat, to protect your head, work out where the board is, watch out for other surfers and don't breathe in the water. Sometimes when you fall off you get rolled and thrown around - like being in a washing machine (sometimes the best bit).

I laugh every time I fall off. I laugh a lot. I also sing quite a lot when I'm trying to catch waves, and also when I've caught one. Singing, laughing, sometimes swearing, always having fun.

In order to progress you need to find a way to think about all of these things at the same time, and yet also not overthink, and also to go with the flow. There's no room in my head for anything else.

All these things, plus you're in the sea, and no matter what the weather, or the temperature there's always a joyful beauty in the sea. Even when you can't see where the sea ends and the rain clouds start, or when the feeling in your toes and most of your feet is just a distant memory.

And there's understanding the sea, which is different in every place, and different in the same place on different days, at different times, depending on tide and weather and currents, and if its crowded or quiet, and how recent storms have moved the sand around.

And then there's how my body is feeling; there are many days when the sea gives me more energy, and I return to it again and again, happily throwing myself at the waves. Other days my body won't cooperate; usually the days when my mind won't settle easily, and I need to stop, and just be present before I can get into the waves.

There's something about standing on the edge of the sea which opens up my brain and lets in fresh air. It's definitely my happy place. Each time I get in the sea I learn something different. Improving? well, I'm certainly getting better at knowing what I'm doing wrong!

Surfing in New Zealand is definitely different to Wales. The sea is a balmy 18 degrees, so a thin, short wetsuit is fine. The Pacific Ocean / Tasman Sea is not the Bristol Channel - I always make sure I'm surfing where there's a life-guard station, and hiring a board means I get to chat with locals about conditions in the area. Just like when I chat with people at Parkruns everyone is friendly, and keen to share their enthusiasm and knowledge. Ironically enough my current stop (along the Surf Highway) has provided the first disappointment of the trip, with completely flat conditions for most of the time. I'm going to have to wait until after Christmas to surf again. Still, there's plenty to do and see and experience and write about.

I wonder what else I can find to blame her for?