Back when people actually used postcards, any surfing scene from anywhere in the world would no doubt show sunny skies, golden beaches and a tanned, smiling surfer cruising down a wave. However, as we all know, the realities of surfing are somewhat different to this utopian beach fantasy. Surfing is in essence, frustrating a great deal of the time. For example, in this country your best wave season is winter. So a more accurate postcard (if they still existed) would show a guy gritting his teeth in the cold, grey sea, surrounded by a crowd of cro-magnon-esque surfers with the combined intellect of plankton. So let’s have a look at some more realities of surfing, all of which incite a degree of frustration:
Number 1: The conditions.
The ocean. It ain’t a tennis court. Nor is it a golf course. It’s not even a mountain bike trail nor a hiking trail. Inclement weather may just be a nuisance or an inconvenience in other sports, but for surfing it can often mean the difference between an exceptional session – or wishing you’d taken up something a little more predictable, like chess or shouting at vagrants competitively. Take the wind for example. A few knots too strong, or a few degrees in the wrong direction – or a few knots too strong and a few degrees in the wrong direction can turn a fun wave into conditions about as pleasant as all those true stories about people being stranded in winter and needing to resort to cannibalism to survive. And what about the swell? Comes in too straight – closeouts. Comes in too much from the side – you stare at a flat sea while just offshore swells the size of Kanye’s ego goes cruising past. Frustrating enough to consider investing in a wavepool.
Number 2: Other surfers.
Jeez. Trident always says, “you can’t surf good waves and expect it to be uncrowded.” However, the same seems to apply in mediocre waves. Or below average waves. Even kak waves, quite frankly. Beginners, hardcore, grizzled veterans, groms hopped up on enough sugar to fuel a probe to Saturn, hipsters surfing in vintage 1930’s swimwear “‘coz it’s so not mainstream”. Expect most surf breaks these days to resemble Mardi Gras. It doesn’t matter how good the waves are, expect some grinning logger to paddle on your inside, or some frowning ogre to snake you repeatedly. It’s easier said than done, but if you can’t beat the frustration of other surfers and their poor manners – join ‘em.
Number 3: The impossibility of planning ahead.
This point relates quite strongly to the first one. You have a day’s leave next week? Sick! Day trip to J Bay! A long weekend which happens to fall on your birthday? Lekker! A weekend in the Southern Cape! Annual shutdown coming up? Awesome; ‘coz this year I learned from last year’s lessons – don’t bother planning a surf trip in advance. Last time we got totally skunked off the east coast of Africa. Prior to that, we stayed inside our straw cabin while a monsoon threatened to blow us to Oz (Ed’s note: Oz like in Australia – or Oz like in the Wizard? Author: Either works bru, don’t you reckon?). Even trying to plan a surf a few days in advance can be a lesson in frustration and folly. The best you can hope for is keeping your eyes peeled on the charts, then making a final call to surf on the day. It’s like that meme of Trump – it is now legal to skip work if the surf is pumping. We really do wish he’d actually said that.
Number 4: How fragile the equipment is.
We literally have occasionally damaged our surfboard while attempting to fix some damage elsewhere on the board. Heck, we’ve damaged a surfboard walking out the front door with it and trying to lock up. Likewise, we’ve stuffed up wetsuits putting them on (or taking them off), in a bit of a rush. Sure, it’s not like surf equipment is made from old marshmallows and hummingbird saliva – but man, the fact that the merest impact on a surfboard can lead to catastrophic damage is as frustrating as seeing idiot voters continually vote other idiots into power.
Number 5: Surf photo’s/clips.
Jis I totally shredded that wave my bru! Klapped some solid turns, and even got a barrel on the inside! Sick, here’s the clip. We all know the drill. The turn that was so vert? Looks like you were trying to scratch your crotch. That barrel that felt like 5 seconds? It was the whitewater slopping in your forehead. And as for all the photos you’ve seen, why do you always have the same facial expression you’d assume a constipated vervet monkey would have?
