Surf Camp Australia: The 2 Day Surf Spectacular I

Just a heads up folks, I will be divulging this surf spectacular across multiple blog posts. There is a lot I want to tell, and I think it's best to break it up so that I'm not overwhelmed writing it and you're not overwhelmed reading it. And go!

Ladies and gentlemen, it is official: I have surfed! I have a sore body but a very satisfied soul, and I am excited to share my two day camp experience with you all.

Aubrey and I had to wake up bright and early to catch our 7:00 am ride to surf camp. We arrived at the pick-up spot, checked-in with Guy (the guy who runs the surf camp), and climbed onboard the Surf Camp van. It was full except for two spots in the very back of the van, and so we clambered in and squished ourselves into the corner. Then we were off! Mitch was our chauffer (he is also a surf instructor but was not teaching this week, just driving), and he drove us two hours south of Sydney to our surf camp destination.  Once there, Guy gave us a quick overview of surf camp, which basically was comprised of three activities: eating, surfing and sleeping. He went over the camp rules (pretty routine of any sleep away camp I would imagine), introduced the “camp counselors” (I put this in quotations because I was older than all of them, so there was none of that usual respect-your-elders vibe. Really they were just good looking surf instructors), and placed us in our sleeping cabins. Aubrey and I shared a room with the two other male campers who were only participating in surf camp for two days, like us (the remaining twenty-something campers had paid to attend surf camp for four days). The names of my two foreign roommates have escaped me, but they were pleasant fellows, one from Sweden and one from Norway. 

The ride up in the back of the van

At the camp gathering for orientation.

Our sleeping quarters

After bunks were allocated, it was time to do the same with wetsuits. Everyone lined up, and one by one was given a hand-me-down wetsuit from the massive wetsuit cupboard. Mine was number 076. It was black and grey, torn and tattered. Wetsuit 076 had clearly endured some serious surfing. It wasn’t the prettiest wetsuit of them all, but it was mine and I loved it, imperfections and all. I can’t say that I loved it on me, however. For the record, wetsuits are not the most flattering garment one can wear, especially used wetsuits that don’t properly fit you and make it appear as if you have rolls and bulges in places that one normally doesn’t. Regardless, I was excited to wear one. This was the first time I had ever worn a wetsuit. Just putting it on made me feel like a surfer chick, and so I forgave it for not flattering my figure. 

Wetsuits on and ready to go!

Once our wetsuits were on, it was time to surf! Surf camp wasted no time; we arrived at 9:30 am, had our wet suits on by 10:30 am, and were walking out the gates at 11:00 am towards the beach to begin our first surf lesson. But first, we needed the most important player in all of this surfing business- our surfboards! On our way to the beach we all stopped at a surfboard-stuffed trailer to collect our boards. I knew that surfboards were long and tall and substantially larger than me, but I still wasn’t prepared for how heavy they were. Don’t be fooled folks, surfboards are heavy; and for a girl my size, nearly impossible to carry gracefully. Those big, muscular surfer dudes make it look easy. They simply tuck it under their massive arms and are off, but my twiggy arm was hardly longer than the width of the board and I could just barely wrap my fingers around its edge to carry it. Or attempt to carry it. I believe some dragging occurred, along with some cursing and grunting. Much of this was because I had to transport my beasty board through brush and foliage in order to get to the beach on the other side. Why they couldn’t just drive the surf boards to the sand is still unclear to me, but they didn’t. No, instead I had to exhaust half my energy and arm strength to haul the surfboards to the beach while tripping over twigs at my feet and dodging branches by my head. This was almost more difficult and tiring than the actual act of surfing. My fingers and lower arm (the part between my elbow and wrist) are still aching. 

Me and my big 'ol board

Eventually, I made it to the beach with my board and body still in one piece. The beach was Seven Mile Beach (its name is self explanatory). It was a lovely beach (I haven’t come across an ugly on since being in Australia), and a quiet one. This was precisely why it was home to Surf Camp Australia, because it was an unpopulated beach (unlike the touristy beaches surrounding Sydney that attract hundreds of thousands of visitors throughout the summer) ideal for teaching beginner surfers without the threat of harming surrounding beach goers, and vice versa. 

Seven Mile Beach