Moving to Cornwall meant making a dream come true. It meant l could, at last, learn to surf. The dream originally took place in my 20s and 30s. I didn't think l'd be in my 40s learning and for some reason I've found the prospect terrifying. Terrifying as I didn't know what l was doing. Terrifying as I didn't know how to put on a wetsuit or wave etiquette. I had this image in my head of how stupid I'd look walking alone the sand in a wetsuit not quite able to carry a 9ft surfboard (longer than my bed) to the water. All on my own. I have images in my head of getting injured and no one finding out and no one to take care of Edward.
Now, I'm no shrinking violet. I have a full motorcycle license. I can wakeboard and snowboard. I've completed endurance races on horseback and by foot through the Sahara. I've travelled on my own. Been held at gun point. Been lost in the Himalayas. I've done a lot. But surfing was a block. And l didn't know how to start. It was frickin' intimidating.
But actually it isn't. Actually when you speak to surfers, they are not intimidating, they are passionate sea lovers. And they are passionate about sharing their love of the waves and keen to chat, help and advise where they can.
There are a couple of people l want to thank you for encouraging me to get in, get on, reappear and have fun. @georgessurfschool for first getting me on a board and teaching me to stand, @stovesincoves for teaching me to 'find my tribe' of fellow surfers, @tjspolzeath for supplying equipment, advising and encouraging. To everyone who's helped me carry boards and get out of kit, @tubestationcrew for being my tribe. Thank you.
So if you're in the same situation, doubting yourself. Believe me you can, go seek, people will help. The water's waiting for you too.