My Journal from 30 Days at Surf Camp in Tamarindo, Costa Rica

I’m not a surfer. Yet, in early 2017, I found myself living at a surf camp in Costa Rica.

But I AM a writer. So naturally, I wrote down all of my inner struggles while battling board rash and figuring out exactly how long I could hold my breath while the waves crashed over my head.

Since I still don’t consider myself a great surfer (even after moving back to the beach in San Diego), I thought I’d just share my journal entries from that month, instead of a blog post on learning how to surf.

But let’s start at the beginning – before I moved to Tamarindo.

My first experience surfing was when I first moved to San Diego after college. It resembled more of a boxing match than anything. One where it felt a little like the ocean had a personal agenda to inflict as much pain on me as possible just to test my resilience.

Unfortunately for me, I’m pretty resilient and stubborn. So I was not only convinced I could figure it out without the help of an instructor but no matter how many times I nose-dived off the front of my board I would come back for more. I’d brave the crashing waves, putting as much force into the oncoming breaks as I could to avoid losing all my ground. Against all odds, I’d occasionally catch a wave, attempt to stand up, fall off (somehow usually hitting my head on the way down) and come back up with the unfamiliar feeling of no oxygen in my lungs just in time to see my board angrily snapping back at me after been stretched too far on its leash.

One particularly graceful moment consisted of me falling over the front of the board, having it scrape across my face – the fin caught me square in the eye – while being pummeled underwater by the waves.

Surfers apparently call this the washing machine. I know why.

So, that was last time. But I promise this story gets a lot more optimistic.

We’ve already established that I’m stubborn. So, I decided to go back at it. I moved to the small beach town of Tamarindo and enlisted the help of a surf instructor named Juan who taught at Blue Trailz, a beginner-friendly surf camp in Costa Rica.  I had one mission/experiment for this month: Learn to surf.

And now for your reading pleasure – a few of my daily entries (I also shared these with the guys at Blue Trailz, who enjoyed a chuckle or two at my expense)…

Day 1: My adventure at surf camp in Costa Rica begins 

Given the above anecdote, I was apprehensive as my instructor Juan handed me the board that would be mine for the next month while I lived at the surf camp in Costa Rica. I felt acutely aware of how much I wasn’t a ‘surfer’ as I fumbled to figure out how to stretch my too-short arms across the seemingly too-big board. I wobbled down the sidewalk to the beach, glancing at the gently rolling waves. This didn’t seem so bad.

With a lot of assistance from Juan, I realized that it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it was actually pretty fun. Now, I’m a little angry at my stubbornness.

Had I really lived in California for two years without learning how to surf because I was so against lessons?

Ugh. Typical me.

Day 2:

Juan taught me the very valuable concept of the tuck and roll so that you go under the waves and not into them. And, for the first time in, ever, I felt like the ocean and I were collaborating instead of fighting. After just one day I’m leaning into the oncoming waves, gauging when they will break…over, under, under, over……wait for it….under.

As I start to “read the waves” (or rather look at the open ocean pretending I’m reading the waves because I don’t really know what I’m looking at), I can see the sun glinting off the top off a would-be wave and know it’s go time. This is it, this is mine. Paddle, paddle, paddle….up.

Day 3:

Graduation day. Well, sort of. I accidentally grabbed the wrong board and ended up with a shorter one. I did better than I thought I would with it, but I still felt like a wobbly toddler trying to figure out how to walk. I’ll go back to long board tomorrow.

Day 5:

Oh boy am I hungry. Like, always. All the hunger, all the time.

Four meals today and counting….

Day 7:

Looking back on week one, most of it was spent practicing in the water. The theme of my week was paddling with an oncoming wave with Juan yelling “PADDLE, PADDLE, UP!” somewhere in the background. Followed by a post-surf nap (read: 2 hour coma) in the hammock. Punctuated by food.

By now, I’m getting consistently better and am able to paddle and stand up with no help.

Day 9:

I’ve acquired some pretty, can I say gnarly?, ‘battle wounds’ – or board rashes – on my knees that are finally healed. I took a trip to nearby Playa Avellanas to surf and relax for the day. It was my first official day out in the water without an instructor and I can happily say it went really well. I caught every wave I went after.

Beer: officially earned.

Note: A surfer friend tells me rashes are evidence that I’ve been getting up on my knees and not my feet like I’m supposed to, but we can’t all be natural athletes like that.

Day 13:

By this time, I’m having so much fun that I decided to go surfing twice. I managed to catch sunrise and sunset – two amazing times to be on the water if I do say so myself. It was somewhere around this time that I texted my friend in Puerto Rico and said: “I’ve been surfing every day. I TOTALLY get it. This is awesome.”

Since I didn’t surf for the whole two months that I was there, I’m making a mental note to do so next time.

Day 15:

A rest day is in order. Even though I set out to live at a surf camp in Costa Rica, I still brought my bicycle and Lucy (my bike) has been assembled and sitting in the dark corner for a few days. She’s calling my name. Time for some land adventures while my arms recover from paddling.

Day 16 (part 2 of my surfing experience):

I’m back and I feel like a new person. A better version of myself. Dare I say it, a surfer even? Maybe that’s getting ahead of myself, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.

After just two weeks at the camp, I’ve managed to fall into a routine that feels so natural I could have been doing it my whole life. Wake up around 4 a.m., work online during the quiet mornings, check the surf as the sun comes up, head out on the water for those perfect, glassy waves before everyone else has rolled out of bed, and then come back for a nap in the hammock before picking up work again for the day.

This particular morning, the waves looked really great, so I hurried out the door with a little extra spring in my step…to be quickly humbled by the fact that the waves WERE great. Too great for me and my still-beginner skills. I decided not to fight with the waves on this one and instead save my body and spirits from any further damage than I had acquired in the previous weeks.

Day 17:

Aside from the fact that yesterday’s waves were a bit much for me, this is the first time since arriving at surf camp that I’ve really noticed that I’m actually improving. I mean, of course you’ll get better at something if you practice every day. But it can be hard to measure.

Well, remember that board I accidentally grabbed on Day 3? I’ve officially graduated to it (on purpose) and standing up is more consistent and less a luck-of-the-draw type situation.

Day 18:

The waves are still pretty big. Despite my better judgment, I bravely (stupidly?) paddled out this morning, just to be met by a giant barreling wall of water. I watched the wave collapse right in front of me, crashing powerfully on the line of surfers who tumbled into the white wash.

I quietly thanked the surfing gods for letting me NOT be one of them. And then I just sat and watched in amazement.

The ocean really is a powerful force of nature. Each day, I gain more respect for how it can both give life and take it, calm your nerves or give you an adrenaline rush that lasts all day. Before California and this year of hopping from islands to beach towns, I never lived near water. But now I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to live too far from it. There’s just something about it that pulls you in (and no, I’m not talking about the riptides).

Day 20:

I went out to find a flat horizon and a shoreline that looked more like a still lake than the thundering waves from earlier this week. Still, I have a challenge to hold myself to. And a new-found love for a newly-acquired skill that must be honed. So, I spent an hour or so riding the wash in and just having some fun. No pressure, just fun.

Day 25:

My mom was in town for the weekend and we went inland to hunt for some monkeys and hanging bridges in the jungle. The mission was successful and the cloud forests and volcanoes in Costa Rica are on a level of their own, but coming back to Tamarindo was like breathing a sigh of relief.

We drove into town as the sun just started dipping toward the horizon and I practically hopped out of the moving car toward the water to soak up the last few minutes of sunlight.

Being with my mom meant I finally had someone to hold the camera for me, too. Photographer mom happily obliged to my requests and now I have proof of this little 30-day surf camp/Tamarindo, Costa Rica experience.

Day 27:

I’ve officially been in Costa Rica for a month. Wait a minute – a month?!? Yea, I guess that’s right.

I know it seems like the ocean and I had a rather rough start, fueled by a daily love/hate battle with an 8-foot surfboard caught somewhere between us. But, I think we came out as friends. Really.

When I set out on that first lesson with Juan, I’ll admit, I was a little skeptical. And a little nervous. I was pretty convinced surfing was for the far more balanced and much less clumsy people out there. But I’ve since changed my mind. I’ve learned that most days, there’s always a wave that’s perfect for you. I’m much more confident now that I’m armed with some tips on how to gauge for oncoming waves and avoid collisions (thanks, Juan). My arms and body have become stronger. And I’ve learned the art of patiently waiting for the right moment.

And I’m not even completely finished yet.

Day 28:

Remember how I said I knew how to avoid collisions? I guess I spoke too soon…

No man, woman, board or fish was hurt. And now I think I can say I’ve officially been introduced to all parts of surfing.

Day 30:

The last day, and we decided to make it a great one. There’s a small group of people who have been staying here at the surf camp in Costa Rica for the last week and we’ve kind of become like family. Before we all part ways, we decided to take a day trip to a secret beach for spearfishing, surfing, and stand-up paddle boarding.

While half of the group set out hunting for their dinner, the rest of us set up a fire, grilled up veggies (the one thing we DEFINITELY knew we’d catch), cut open some coconuts and shared stories about traveling and how we all ended up on this secluded beach on a dirt road in Central America.

As the sun went down, the rain started. But we kept a fire going, anyway, dancing in the rain as a proper goodbye to this magical country.

A chapter of a story – fueled by a simple quest to learn how to surf – that won’t soon be forgotten.

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