Surfing is difficult

27 September 2013  

We ventured south via bus and tuk-tuk to the iconic surf beach Arugam Bay. We weren’t sure what to expect, but we were in search of a bit more nightlife.  

Sri Lankans, it seems, like to head to bed early and with a clear head—as relaxing as that is. After a week of reasonably clean living, we wanted to find some bars and maybe some travellers to share stories and tips with.  

We arrived hot and exhausted from our long journey, with nowhere to stay.  

We hit the beach, which is a long bay approximately 3km wide. Fishing boats occupy most of the sand, and large waves crash down onto the short shoreline in intermittent bursts. To the right-hand side of the bay is the surf. The bay is shaped so you can wade in and be straight behind the waves.  

We found some accommodation a few paces from the beach. It was 38 degrees, felt like 40, and the room was very basic with no air conditioning. But it was cheap, and we were in the middle of the restaurants and bars. Quite importantly, as we hadn’t booked any accommodation for Mumbai and wanted to catch up with friends, it had wifi—good, fast(ish) wifi.  

We walked up the beach to see Sri Lankans jumping about in the smaller waves and surfers (who haven’t changed their look for at least 30 years) hanging out in Mambos or riding the small but perfectly formed swell.  

That evening, we decided to treat ourselves and blow our budget on pizza. After three attempts at the awful Lankan specialty *rice and curry*—which is always served cold and always tastes the same whatever dish they serve—it was a welcome treat.  

We devoured a pizza each and chips in a lovely candle-lit outdoor restaurant that felt like we were in an enchanted forest (sort of). Bloated and waddling, we made our way slowly back and tried our best to sleep in the heat.  

The next day generally consisted of what I think is fair to describe as "dicking about in the sea."  

We had tried to rent boards but were either up too early or too late as the rental shop was closed till 3. We vowed to get up early the next day, get boards, and learn to surf—a head start on Goa.  

Out of guilt for eating Western food and because my pocket was beginning to fill with shrapnel rather than paper, we tried *rice and curry* in a local place that boasted cooking lessons and a chef’s tip box.  

We found out there was a reason the tip box was made out of wood—if it had been made of glass, it would have given the game away.  

We woke late again and grabbed a longboard for cheap from the place we were staying.  

After watching some of the more experienced surfers, we jumped in and quickly realised how bad we were at surfing. It’s really not easy.  

After an hour of drifting out to sea, falling off (well away from any waves), and getting in everyone’s way, we decided professional coaching was the way forward.  

It was an hour’s lesson that began with how to stand up on the board.  

I’ve not done this for years, and it appears the fermented grapes, stuffed crust pizza, and late nights have taken their toll.  

In what possibly resembled a fat child learning to walk, I managed to drag myself up into the standing position (bearing in mind we’re still on the sand), panting and pleased with myself.  

It was Suzie’s turn...  

Unfortunately, it seems we share the same vices, and she wasn’t able to stand at all. After several attempts—and what I judged from her giggling must have seemed like hours of embarrassment—they taught her a more gradual method of getting to her feet.  

All this meant that I had to keep "practicing."  

Once in the water, we had to show we could paddle—which we did—and duck dive waves, which we also did. Then came the surfing.  

Positioned by the instructor in the best possible way to catch a wave, my long-haired teacher shouted for me to paddle.  

I did, and I felt the wave take my board. All that practicing on the sand paid off, and I (very slowly) hauled myself to my feet. *Cracked it*, I thought.  

The next 20 or so waves were not so great. I was "washing machined," drowned, and spent a lot of time surfing on my knees or on one knee. Each humiliating time, I had to go slowly past the families in the water and jump off into the shallows before the excruciating journey back to the break.  

Suzie, much more confident on her board, was catching waves—but not on her feet. Her balance was good, and if they could only change the sport to ban standing up, I think she could be pro.  

It was an exhausting hour of my life but loads of fun, and it has set me in good stead for the rest of the travels.  

Hopefully, with the lack of vino and convenience foods, a more rejuvenated couple can conquer the ocean.  

After yet another awful meal, we decided to leave for Ella.  

We think it will bring a welcome change to what has been predominantly a beachy holiday. And although Arugam Bay was good, it wasn’t all we’d hoped for.  

The town was a small strip of restaurants and cafes, and the people—apart from a really nice (although controversial) Israeli couple—were very cliquey. If you didn’t surf, there wasn’t much to do.  

This did, however, leave us time for thinking. We’ve done a lot of that about what we want out of this adventure.  

I think we’re going to slow down once we hit Goa in a week or so’s time. Maybe we’ll rent a flat and a scooter for a month (if we like it) and really get stuck into Indian life.  

I’m really excited about the future.  

We’ve already had an unbelievable time and love Sri Lanka, but there is so much more to come.  

For once, I can wait, and I feel content to let it happen slowly.  

Not really sure what happened here just outside our room. No one else knew either—maybe someone found a scratch card??

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