By James Stone -

Having spent a season snowboarding on holiday out in Canada, I thought I would get the hang of surfing without too much trouble. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was to tell my girlfriend, who had no snowboarding experience, not to worry if I picked up the sport a little quicker than she did, after all, "I had many months of board riding experience behind me".

Cornwall was the site of this chastening experience during the summer. After a few days enjoying the periodically sunny beaches of the south of the county, a spot of horse riding, the obligatory visit to the Eden Project and eating fudge in Mevagissey, out last full day was spent learning to surf at the underage drinking capital of Cornwall, Newquay.

After squeezing in to our wetsuits, it was off to the beginner's beach of Holywell Bay for the morning's surfing. We were told that the small swell that day was perfect for novices and our small group had just about the place to ourselves as our South African instructor, Andy, took us through a few safety procedures. After going over our paddling technique, we hit the surf for a spot of body boarding practice. This I could do. "Lie on you board, check behind you for the wave and start paddling," we were told. As the wave hit, I was carried along at what felt like ferocious speed. "Push up to slow down," shouted Andy. I was going far to fast to consider even slightly changing my position and hurtled towards shore lying flat on my board. As the wave's force dwindled, my girlfriend emerged from the spray beside me: she too had caught her first wave.

After 20 minutes of getting used to the speed and the waves, we were called on to the shore to learn how to get to our feet. Two techniques were offered us; one, a step-by-step manoeuvre that involved going from the prone position to kneeling, before jumping to our feet, the second, the "explosive method", involved a simple spring from the lying position to fully upright. Well, I could do neither. The only explosions on display were as I plunged head first in to the sea as I again failed to get to my feet. It soon became apparent that I did not have sufficient power in my arms to jump straight on to my feet, while, with the more measured approach, I could do something which I can only describe as knee boarding, with any attempt to get fully upright immediately seeing my board wheel away from beneath me.

It was while this frustrating scene was taking place that various teenagers also in the lesson would fly past, looking like they had done it all their lives, although I inadvertently scuppered many a small child's first successful standing attempt by crashing in to them as I yet again failed to clamber aboard. The last straw for me that morning was when my girlfriend began to get the hang of it as well, and, I must admit, she too looked she had done it before. Andy was enthusiastic, claiming that I probably just "needed another lesson" and despite this rather negative portrayal of my first surfing experience, I can't wait to get back in the surf for another go. South Wales anyone?

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