Real Canadians take their surf lessons in B.C.'s icy Pacific.
So you think a pop-up is a toaster pastry, or perhaps an early spring blossom breaking the ground? Wrong!
Now I've learned some new millennium surf lingo, I can tell you a pop-up is a rapid body move from horizontal to vertical while perched on a two-metre board propelled on the face of a wave in icy surf. And, in the case of this "grand-pop," it doesn't come easily.
"You must be crazy," said some friends when they learned I would be taking surfing lessons in the middle of winter. I allowed that I might be a little wacky myself.
We planned to be in Tofino for Christmas and discovered that Surf Sister Surf School would be offering lessons on the beach in front of our hotel. We decided to surprise our near-teenage granddaughter, Shayla, and her mom, Sue, with a morning of "ground school" lessons and surfing. I mentioned I might do it myself and, from that moment, pride wouldn't let me back out, although there were moments I seriously considered it.
My wife Lorie and Shayla's dad Bill got out of it by offering to photograph the excitement for our memory books. As Lorie said, "Somebody's got to do it!"
Growing up in Australia, I did a lot of body surfing and some Wave riding on inflatable surf rafts in my teens and twenties. Boards in the '50s and '60s were big, heavy and beyond my means, so Surf Sister offered my first formal experience with a board. Both Sue and Shayla are far fitter than I. Shayla spends several hours a week with a synchro swimming team; Sue jogs regularly. Shayla is comfortable on roller blades, snowboard or skis. Me, I walk most days, but that's about it.
The girls' reaction to the surprise varied: Shayla was instantly thrilled with the idea of trying ocean surfing. With visions of huge waves of cold water in mind, Sue wasn't so keen but, seeing that Shayla and I were determined, agreed to join us. We were staying at Pacific Sands Beach Resort on Cox Bay, eight kilometres south of Tofino, and were glad to see our surfing morning dawn with gentle waves and some sunshine. Donning T-shirts and shorts under tracksuits, we headed over to the resort's gazebo. Here, a roaring fire and flasks of hot chocolate calmed jittery nerves and we chatted with three other keeners.
I got tired of my life being tied to a golf course. I went back to school and completed an education. There was that feeling of accomplishment there. You know, I think I'm in better shape than my kids. They are 25, 24 and 21."
Women's-only programs now range from laid-back Bed and Breakfast kayaking getaways, to high risk activities with a huge skill development component such as ice climbing.
Erin Murphy, founder of Women's Only Mountain Biking . says the public is more willing to pay for outdoor recreational activity. "I've seen a huge change," Murphy says. "People are now paying to go for a run. This to me is the ultimate." In-line skating is also "coming on strong," she says.
Women approach learning risk activities quite differently than men, a fact that recreational operators have been quick to tap. "Instead of just busting out as men might do, say, on a motorcycle, women often get out their 'Palm Pilot' and schedule a class," D'Aoust says."They want to know how to do it right, especially the older women. They want to go to the best places, buy the right gear, meet up with other women who are doing it - and not get hurt."
Women's c1asses tend to be supportive and to teach skills in small components. At Women's Only Mountain Biking, for instance, you don't go out and jump a log until you've jumped a curb with a spotter on each side.
We'd provided weight and height measurements in advance so we would have wet suits that fitted. Our instructor, Louise, pulled our gear and six elliptical beginner boards from her truck. The boards, about three metres long, were patterned in bright blue with black and white hibiscus flower trim - perhaps designed to appeal to the fairer set.
We suited up in the comfort of the enclosure, then carried our colourful boards to the beach where Louise conducted our "ground school." The temperature was around 8°C and a chill breeze wafted off the snow-covered mountains, but the wet suits kept us warm enough. My body heat was escaping through my bald head, so Lorie loaned me her baseball cap to keep my grey matter functioning.
We learned to watch for rips that can develop without warning almost anywhere along a beach, and how to get out of one if being carried offshore. "Don't try to fight a rip head-on, paddle across it," said Louise. We drew outlines of our boards in the greysand. Louise showed us how to lie on the board (feet should be just over the rear half of the board), how to paddle (alternate arms), how to get through oncoming waves (front of board down), surf etiquette (don't try to grab a wave that someone else is riding).
Lastly, she offered some advice on how to catch waves. This is the toughest of the many skills in learning to surf. Knowing which wave to paddle for and which to let pass, the timing of when to start paddling and how fast, how much to arch your back, and when to get to your feet, are things that only come with experience.
"When trying to stand up, stand up. Don't get to your knees first, or you'll be a knee-boarder, otherwise known as weenie," she said. Louise demonstrated the "popup" which starts as a push-up on the board and ends with the would-be surfer pulling his-her legs up under the belly and standing upright all in one motion. This requires a certain level of fitness and was easy for Shayla, not so easy for Sue, and impossible for me. I'm still a reluctant kneeboarder, but I'm practising my pop-ups daily.
We pulled on our helmet-like headpieces and carried our boards. along-the beach to a suitable spot to brave the waves. "Stay together inside the second break," Louise advised. We pushed out, finding the water a little chilly at first where skin and wetsuit met, but we soon adapted.
Shayla caught her very first wave and was instantly hooked. Sue and I battled a few waves before getting the hang of it. Sue managed a coup1e of stand-up rides, Shayla caught wave after wave. I kneeboarded my way triumphantly to shore several times. I was bowled over by the surf ("did the washing machine" as Louise put it), caught a mouthful of saltchuck, battled my way out into the surf again and again, and was exhilarated by the experience.
When our hour was up I was reluctant to come ashore, but the thought of that warm fire and hot chocolate combined to make a strong incentive. And there was the longing for a hot shower back in our suite. Did we enjoy it? Well, I'll try it again when we return to Pacific Sands with our other grandchildren and their mom come for spring break. Sue agreed it would be worth doing again but would prefer the warm surf of Hawaii.
And Shayla, the envy of her many friends in the northern B.C. town where she lives, has become a surf chick. The cult movie Blue Crush has been popped into her family's DVD player a zillion times and her bedroom is plastered with surf posters. She wears a Billabong toque everywhere - probably even to bed, where she no doubt dreams of catching the perfect wave.
Obviously we hit the "What do you give a 12-year-old girl for Christmas?" dilemma board-on!
And I intend to keep practising my pop-ups.