Early Monday morning I was greeted by the way-to-cheerful, hyped up on caffine Carly and JJ who were to be our guides, drivers and occasional surf instructors for the next five days. Once on the bus they had us introduce ourselves. There was about twenty of us and I was the only English girl. There was another English guy, an Irish guy, a couple of Danish girls, lots of Germans, a Swedish couple and a group of Norweigen girls. We were a mixed bunch! They then proceeded to get us into the mood by playing surfing films of guys who to say 'made it look easy' would be an understatement. By the end of the week, we all assumed we'd be doing that.
We were wrong.
Our first camp was at Crescent Head and we were there from Monday to Wednesday afternoon. The camp was a couple of huts in the middle of the bush. Across a dirst track was some more bush where the 'humpy' was: a small clearing with a camp fire for parties; and just beyond that was the beach. A huge expanse of deserted sand and breaking waves. It was incredible.
We arrived there around 1pm and as soon as we'd signed in and dumped our bags it was into our swimmers and wetsuits and off down to the beach for our first lesson. It soon became apparent that we were not going to be surfing like Kelly Slater any time soon. What all those wonderful movies fail to show is that surfing is hard. And not just in terms of trying to stand up, or stay up, or even just paddling (which trust me is tiring). But even just getting out the back, past all the breaking waves (which is where you want to be if you want to look cool; #1 rule of surf camp) is frickin' hard work. At times almost impossible. The first few lessons weren't that bad for that. We were all happy to stay close to the shore trying to stand up in the white water. Despite spending most of my first lesson underwater I had managed to stand a couple of times and not drown completely. I was comforted by the fact that I didn't get sea sick... unlike one unnamed person!
Tuesday and Wednesday morning was spent on the beach at Crescent Head. To prepare us for our morning sessions one of the instructors - who also happened to be a yoga teacher and who never bothered to learn names (I was, for the whole duration of the trip, "Pommie") - decided we all needed some loosening up. So we had 'lovely' yoga lessons, on the beach, in wetsuits. I have no idea how he managed it. While he was incredibly flexible and didn't seem to have any problems managing some of the very difficult yoga poses, I kept being chocked by my wetsuit just trying to touch my toes!
The Tuesday morning sessions I spotted some dolphins as we were paddling out and Carly said I must have good eyes. I couldn't confess that the real reason I'd seen them was because I'd been nervously scanning the waves for any signs of sharks. We didn't see any. Thank goodness. But on the final day one of the guys found out that the week before two large hammerhead sharks had been spotted off the beach one south from the on we were surfing. Yikes!
Evenings at Crescent Head were spent at the humpy, sitting around the camp fire drinking 'goon' (boxed wine - classy) and chatting. There may have been some dancing. Getting to and from the site was made more interesting by having to walk through the woods on a narrow, unlit path. It was pitch black and we only survived with luck and a lot a of giggling. And hugging trees. Returning to the camp on Tuesday night I was sitting with Carly and some of the guys in the kitchen area eating a sneaky midnight snack of nachos and dip when I found a little black leech on my foot. It bled a lot but came off easily and I wasn't as creeped out as I thought I would be. Still was pretty icky.
We left Crescent Head on Wednesday after our morning surf and lunch. Our second camp was at Spot X (Arawatta Beach, just north of Coff's Harbour). This was very different to Crescent Head as the site is bigger and caters for the Oz Experience and other tour groups, not just the Mojo Crew. We arrived in time for dinner which, like all the meals on the trip, was brilliant. They certainly don't scrimp on food. Huge servings with lots of salad to help yourself to. While at Crescent Head we had to wash our own dishes - the dishwater chosen by group competitions that included Jenga and an 'Aussie relay race' (down a can of beer - blow up a balloon 'til it pops - eat a dry weet-bix covered in vegemite: I had to eat the vegemite. Yum) - at Spot X we were spoilt as the staff did them for us.
Thursday and Friday morning was spent out in the waves and those of us that had the basics down now wanted to head out the back and try our hand at the green waves. Easier said than done as first you had to get out there. At times it was like walking against a brick wall. For every metre gained you'd be swept back about five. It was very fustrating and a couple of times I had to give up and go back to shore to take deep breaths, count to ten, that sort of thing, to calm down before attempting it again. The trick was to wait for a gap between sets and then paddle out as hard as you could. Get it right and you could get out without getting your hair wet. Get it wrong and things got... interesting. I tended to get it wrong. The second best thing to heading out between sets was to 'eskimo roll' under the biggest waves. Simply you take a deep breath as the wave is about to break on your head, flip the board overand hold on underneth it; the idea being the wave passes stright over you and you flip over and paddle quickly once it's gone. It didn't work for me. Not until someone finally told me I had to make sure the nose of the board was under water as well. I'd just been clinging on and still being dragged back towards the shore. I'd just saved the waves the trouble of pulling me under.
Once I was finally out the back it was nice to relax but if you wanted a green wave you had to work for it and paddling fast enough to catch one is hard work. Not only that, if you get things wrong the wipe outs are that much more spectacular - and painful. Did I mention surfing hurts? By the end of the five days I'd notched up a pretty long list of injuries: one pulled shoulder from trying to hang onto the board it was ripped from me by a wave; numerous bruises, the best being a perfect line across my stomach from where I wiped out and landed on the rail of my board; damaged big toe from landing on it funny; grazed knees from a really scratchy board; sore inside arms from my wetsuit; and the most impressive of all - my hands that were rubbed and blistered from trying to hang on to my board. By midweek I was having to tape my hands up with silver duct tape. I looked like a robot!
I loved surfing though, especially when you catch a green wave and just sail stright down it. It feels like flying. Of course, more often than not I got something slightly wrong and ended up in a washing machine effect - being rolled around and around by the waves until they finally spit you out looking like a drowned rat. Mostly these were caused by not standing up quickly enough and there are few things scarier than nose diving. You find yourself practically vertical, looking straight down into the wave and at that point you know you're about to go head over heels so it's not much surprise when you do. Doesn't make it any more fun though.
After lunch with the kookaburras on Friday we boarded the bus for the final leg up to Bryon Bay. We'd all booked into the same hostel and that night we went out for a last meal at a really nice pizza restaurant that gave us free beer. I had a pumpkin pizza. Different but very good. It was a good evening but we were all quite tired.
Byron Bay is lovely. Very chilled out and cool. Spending time wandering around the little boutique shops and then sitting on the beach watching the surfers. The temptation to join them was huge, but my hands protested and sadly I only had a couple of hours there on the Saturday before my aunt and uncle arrived from Brisbane to collect me. It was a fantastic week and I definitely hoping to surf again before I return to the UK.
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