When you view the Pacific Ocean from the sandy shore between Ucluelet and Tofino, you see whales breach and dolphins jump. It's a vista untainted by humanity, except for the rider-less surfboards washing up on the beach. Tethered to each board is a body tumbling gracelessly in the water. These are tourists taking surfing lessons. But why scrutinize their awkward struggles? Turn your gaze back to the horizon, do a Half Lotus pose, throw in a yoga chant and the surfing slapstick quickly fades.
I was on B.C.'s Chesterman Beach recently, to try surfing in a community long known for its hippie undercurrent. But things are changing here at the western terminus of the Trans-Canada Highway. On a sea of new money, luxury homes and resorts have sprouted like bull kelp, homogenizing what was once a more soulful vibe. The hemp hoodie I brought was the only one in sight.
Each year, about 12,000 visitors take lessons from the eight surfing schools that operate here year round; later this fall they will be joined by pro surfers for the 2009 O'Neill Cold Water Classic, billed as the first-ever international pro surfing competition in Canada. While we novices are drawn to summer's slow-peeling waves and sandy bottom, which make for gentler conditions, the pros are coming here for the huge, shapely swells that lash the coast in late fall and winter. A 5.5 mm neoprene suit insulates you from the water – the temperature hovers around 12 C this month, and will drop to near 5 C in the winter.
As someone who usually stands on water only when it's frozen under my cross-country skis in Alberta, I wanted to tackle it in liquid form on the west coast. Tofino's West Side Surf School offers standard classes seven days a week that cost less than some locals might pay for a half-ounce of B.C. bud. I gave my height, weight and a credit-card number, then showed up at the surf shack where my correctly sized wetsuit, booties and a surfboard were waiting.
If gauged by our instructors, Canada's surfing industry is, like our ski resorts, run by athletic young Australians. Our “mates” were Chris and Shannon, both from Newcastle. Our class of 12 ranged in age from mid-teens to late 40s. On the 2.5-kilometre-long Chesterman Beach, Shannon gave us a half hour of dry-land instruction about the potential danger of the ocean's tides and swells, surfboard design and a four-step technique for standing on your board and riding a wave. It was a bad omen that rehearsing on dry land had us all sweating with exertion. When Shannon and Chris felt we were ready, they led us to water. For the next 90 minutes we waded out waist deep to catch waves two to four feet high.
Did I mention that surfing is popular here? Soon the water was so thick with surfers that it looked like the taxi bullpen at Vancouver International Airport. We often had to move aside so that those in front could ride their wave of choice without mowing down the others in line.
It was humbling stuff, a tiring workout even for the fit. As we learned, you walk into the waves while floating your board against your hip. Just before your wave of choice starts breaking in front of you, you turn your board toward shore and quickly lie face down on it, your feet flush with its back end. Then you paddle hard with your arms until the wave propels you forward. This part is exhilarating, but there's no time to enjoy it, because right away you must push your body up and bring one foot forward so that it's under your hips. If all goes well, you push down on your front leg and stand up.
