Who says bodyboarding is just for kids?
Bodyboarding is the most accessible of all watersports, so if surfing sounds too daunting, grab yourself a ‘sponge’, says Becky Dickinson
The obligatory lineup of camper vans peppers the track overlooking the beach. There’s the zipping of neoprene, the checking of swell, the rubbing of wax. A tang of testosterone and anticipation hovers in the air as surfboards are carried like sacred vessels towards the heaving Atlantic.
I feel like an impostor; a woman in my forties, looking less than svelte in a wetsuit, and with a bodyboard (don’t laugh) slung under my arm.
When we moved to the North Devon coast six years ago, I secretly hoped I’d discover a latent talent for surfing. The reality was more You’ve Been Framed! than Soul Surfer. Yet I wasn’t ready to accept that the thrill of the ocean should be accessible only to the innately talented, or those who’d grown up on a reef.
So I invested in a bodyboard and a pair of duck-like flippers that were impossible to walk in (tip: don’t put them on until you get in the sea) and set about trying to satisfy that unquenchable thirst for the perfect wave. Only this time, from a prone position – at least it wouldn’t be so hilariously obvious when I fell off.
In countries like Portugal, bodyboarding attracts the same kind of admiration as gymnastics. In the UK, its status is closer to crazy golf; think children squealing towards the shore on brightly coloured pieces of foam. But bodyboarding – although brilliant for six-year-olds, holidaymakers and people who can’t surf – is also a sport in its own right. At the top end, it’s as skilled and competitive as surfing – just check out YouTube.
But here’s the thing: unlike surfing, you don’t need to know your left foot from your right to experience the buzz of rushing down a wave. No splashing out on lessons, only to end up bruised and defeated, with your ego disintegrating on the seabed. At entry level, bodyboarding provides instant gratification and is the most accessible of all watersports, regardless of age, experience and fitness (or lack thereof ). What’s more, it’s the most amazing adrenalin rush you will ever experience without breaking the law. And once you’ve got the bug, the compulsion to chase bigger and better waves becomes as unstoppable as the tide.
Which is why I’m here, looking slightly incongruous among the camper vans and cool kids, with my 13-year-old son, Jonas, in tow. A sworn surfer, he still can’t resist a go on a sponge (surf speak for bodyboards). Selfishly, I’ve left his younger sisters at home. Bodyboarding is a fantastic family activity, but it’s hard to fully immerse yourself when you’re trying
My mind is completely free, I am part of the ocean and the ocean is part of me
to make sure children aren’t drowning. And after four months of homeschooling, I could do with a break.
The guilt lasts about as long as it takes to pull on my flippers. Leashes fastened, we start paddling away from the frothing shore. Although the beach breakers are magnificently enjoyable, it’s the prized “green” waves we’re after. Getting there is another matter. As Jonas steams ahead, I’m left floundering in a cauldron of seething white water. Meanwhile, a wave the size of a cruise ship is ploughing inexorably towards me. I have approximately half a second in which to decide what to do.
“Duck dive!” yells Jonas. I brace my elbows and push down hard on the nose of the board, plunging into the brine, gripping the sides as if my life depends on it. An avalanche of water passes overhead, while almost miraculously, its power beneath the surface is reduced to bubbles.
I emerge one stroke closer to the goal. The oncoming waves are relentless, exhausting, but finally I make it “out back”, beyond the breakers, to where it’s infinitely blue, auspiciously calm. We watch and wait, and then it appears: a bump on the horizon like a rolling pin, rising into a wall. I kick furiously, trying to generate enough speed to catch the galloping peak. And suddenly, I’m sliding along its face, euphoric, riding the wave of my life.
And in that moment, my mind is completely free, I am part of the ocean and the ocean is part of me, a fusion of molecules and spray and pure, existential joy. I am simultaneously empowered by and at the mercy of the sea and it’s wonderful. For those few, exhilarating seconds, everything else just falls away. It’s the most extreme and perfect form of mindfulness I can imagine.
And then it’s all over. I scan the water for Jonas. “Well done, you got a green one!” he grins. Praise indeed, from the surfer. And then we turn and do it all over again. Standing up is overrated. If I were to put money on it, I’d say with staycations set to rule the summer, a new wave of bodyboarding could be on the horizon.