Surf Lessons on the Gold Coast – Part 1: Wipeout Number Seven

The board was bright yellow and roughly the size of a dinner table. Lucy stood on the sand at Burleigh Heads with it tucked under one arm, staring at the Pacific as though it had personally insulted her family.

"You'll be fine," said a voice behind her. "The ocean isn't trying to kill you. Mostly."

She turned. A tall, sun-bleached man in a faded rash vest and board shorts was walking towards her, a surfboard under one arm and a grin on his face that looked like it had been there since birth.

"I'm Noah," he said. "I'm your instructor. You're the one who booked the week and then told the office she'd never been in the sea."

"I've been in the sea," said Lucy. "Once. At Brighton. It was cold, and a seagull took my chips."

"Then today is a big improvement," said Noah cheerfully. "No seagulls, and the water's warm. Let's go."

The first lesson was an ocean full of wipeouts. Lucy paddled out, fell off the board, came up spluttering, paddled back, and fell off again. Each time the wave caught her, it dragged her under and spun her round until she couldn't tell which way was up. Each time she came up, Noah was there, bobbing on his own board, laughing so hard he nearly fell off.

"Number seven," he called, after the seventh wipeout.

"What?"

"That's your seventh. I'm counting. You're doing brilliantly."

"I'm not doing brilliantly. I'm drowning."

"That's what I said. Very brilliantly."

She laughed, coughing up salt water, and grabbed her board. Noah paddled alongside her, his face bright and easy.

"Tell me what you're scared of," he said. "Honestly. Then we'll fix it, one wave at a time."

Lucy hung on to the board, the sea rolling gently under her. The sun was warm on her shoulders, and the sky was impossibly blue.

"I'm scared of looking stupid," she said. "I'm scared I'll never get up on the board. And I'm scared that I came here to prove I could do something hard, and I'm going to go home having failed."

Noah was quiet for a moment, his hands resting on the board.

"Then you're not going to fail," he said. "You're going to look ridiculous, and get up anyway. That's the whole sport."

"That's a terrible motivational speech."

"It's the only one I've got," said Noah, grinning. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Would you let me hold the back of your board, for one more wave, and push you into it? And then you tell me if you want me to stop?"

Lucy's breath caught. "Yes," she said. "But if I fall off again, you have to buy me a coffee."

"Done," said Noah. "Ready?"

"Green," said Lucy, and gripped the rails.

Noah pushed. The wave lifted her up, and for one long, breathless second, she was standing, arms wide, the ocean rushing beneath her, and the whole bright world stretched out in every direction.

Then she fell off, of course, but she was laughing so hard she barely noticed.