Surfing in Sydney - You're Never Too Old To Learn

A few months ago, a friend called to ask if I'd like toof 120kg neanderthals performing surfboard proctology
join her on a surfing lesson at Manly Beach in Sydney.on anyone who accidentally took their wave, ensured
Giving thought to my answer, two images flashed tothe closest I came to the thrills of surfing was through
mind. My thirty-nine year old battle weary body,the eyes of a six o'clock sports news camera.After
attempting to hang five with a gaggle of bewilderedthe lesson I realised how irrational these fears had
foreign backpackers and pointing school kids. Andbeen. I'd seen dozens of board riders emerge from the
more vividly, the look on the faces of my settledsea every day. They all still had their torsos, and very
couple and married-with-kids friends if they knew Ifew walked as if they had a surfboard stuck in their
was even considering the idea.Having recently brokenbacksides. Never again would I allow an issue outside
out of Sydney's Lower North Shore maximumof my control to prevent me from living out my surfing
suburbia and moved to fun-filled Manly beach, I haddream!Which meant I'd need a more tangible fear. It
already become a prime suspect in their case againstcame to me just after the smirking surf shop grommet
dirty-thirties attempting to recapture lost youth. It wasn'thad taken my money and watched me leave with
that I'd been caught driving a red convertible sports careight feet of fiberglass, a rubber suit, two packets of
or acting suspiciously outside Botox clinics. However, Igolden tan bikini girl board wax, and his sunglasses
had been hauled into Fresco painted living rooms andstand wrapped in my leg rope. Maybe my sensible
interrogated under the glare of designer mood lightingfriends were right after all? Perhaps I was pathetically
over alleged mixed touch football games onholding on to a long lost youth?Coyly making my way
weekends, bar hopping on school nights, and clubbingdown the beach, I felt the stares of sunbakers boring
on any night, sternly warned that such activities wereinto me, knowing exactly what they were thinking. A
not something a self-respecting man of my age shouldvoice came over the lifesaver club speakers. No-one
be involved in."Sure, count me in" I replied. Breaking theever understands those announcements, but I heard it
news to the fun police couldn't be any moreclearly, "You, the thirty-nine year old guy in the
embarrassing than having to answer the questionhysterically fitted wetsuit. Act your age. Put down the
asked of every male living in a beachside suburb, "Sosurfboard and move back between the flags. Nice and
do you surf?" with a mumbled reply about bodyslow." Just as I thought the game was up, I took one
bashing in a pair of flippers. Besides, one lesson waslast look at the lapping water and realised I'd come to
hardly a commitment. It was like a speed date. I'd hookfar to stop now. Mustering every ounce of courage in
up with a few boards, share some laughs, make a foolmy entertaining frame, I clutched my board like a
of myself, and never be seen again.The day arrived,swagman with his tucker-bag and yelled, "You'll never
and everything seemed to be was going to plan.catch me alive", crashing into the sea, leaving the world
Paddle out, thrash about like a puppet onof epochlitically correct troopers in my wake.I've been
amphetamines, catch a wave, attempt to stand shakily,honing my paltry surfing skills for a while now and still
fall off comically, try to laugh at ones self louder thanfind myself upside down more often than not, but it
at those around you, and start again. At this rate, I'd bedoesn't matter. As any golf hacker will tell you, one
back in the safety of the pub in no time, telling thosesweet drive down the middle of a long straight fairway
who asked, "Yeah, I used to surf until I wiped out on aredeems 99 slices into the car park and dribbles off
submerged German and did my back in."Then thethe end of the tee. Just give me one smooth ride on a
most bizarre thing happened. After landing oneglistening blue satin-sheet wave, overflowing
particularly kind wave and staggering to my feet, thechampagne froth in my wake, and not a backpacker
regulation left hook that had sent me crashing to theto be seen between my board and the beach, and this
canvas all day never arrived. I was still standing, surfingmiddle-aged delinquent will always be back for more.
right over the top of the remaining backpackers, whileBecause the only thing that scares me these days is
the school kids didn't even register a bump!There wasimagining what life would be like if I'd never become a
no denying my giant esky lid was about the size of thesurfer dude.Four things every late starter should know
QEII, and would have remained stable with an entireabout surfing:1.Physiological studies have demonstrated
Central African government onboard, however, glidingthat surfing is an excellent form of exercise. An
across water with the sun on my face, salt on my lips,aerobic fitness study at Deakin University found that
and sand in my shorts left me exhilarated in a way nocompetitive surfers rate comparable to Nordic skiers
Sunday night happy hour ever had. By the end of theand distance runners, whilst my study found it reduced
lesson I knew that somewhere in a surf shop outbudding man-boobs and wobbly love handles.2.Male
there, a shapely piece of fibreglass was calling mysurfers have licence to stand at the back of the
name.From an early age, I'd always loved Sydneybeach and ogle women for at least fifteen minutes
beaches. Face-planting on a sandbank after catching alonger than other men before being arrested, provided
'dumpa'; having to "do a runner" across the scorchingthey at least pretend to be studying the swells in the
hot sand until we found a place to drop our towels;water too. Female surfers have no additional ogling
waiting ravenously in the shop line for a chocolaterights over other women because men only wish they
Paddle Pop and a pie n' sauce with the sensation ofall did it more often.3.It is worth investing in a good
course damp sand under my feet, and scent of saltquality wetsuit. In addition to their heating benefits, they
caking bodies under my nose; the golden tanned girlsevenly distribute excess body lard throughout the
who, well, just walked around being golden tanned girls.rubber skin.4.No matter what your mates tell you, a
My transcendental surfing lesson aboard the HMASwetsuit should be worn with the zipper at the back. I
Polystyrene left me wondering, "Why didn't I try thispromise.Best places to learn to surf in Sydney:Manly
years ago?"Amongst a list of very lame excuses, onlySurf School Offers classes at four of Sydney's
one seemed to have any validity. Fear. As a teenagernorthern beaches daily throughout the year.Bondi Surf
without a car, it had been less frightening to stand inSchool - Lets Go Surfing Offers classes at Sydney's
the local nets and watch cricket balls fly towards mymost famous beach throughout the year.Simon Hillier
face, or attempt, and often fail, to jump BMX bikesruns Get There, a freelance writing service based in
over 5ft ditches, than let golden tanned girls see meSydney, AustraliaIn a career spanning 18 years, Simon
hanging out at the beach with mum and dad.In myhas worked in advertising, television production, travel,
twenties, I was building a career, travelling the world,sales and marketing, and e-commerce. In 2005, during
and discovering that there was more to a female'sa rare moment of clarity, if not sanity, Simon leapt from
beauty than the shade of her tan. By this time mythe relative safety of his office cubicle, into the murky
parents were permitted to accompany me in public,waters of freelance writing, where he now specializes
however, the thought of prehistoric man-eaters lickingin feature articles, travel writing, copywriting, web
their lips underneath my bobbing sea biscuit, and talescontent, ebooks and scriptwriting.