Surfing in Siargao for the first time

“All it takes is one surf trip to change your life.”

That’s an incredibly ambitious statement, but Surfista Travels head trainer Elaine Abonal says it so sincerely as to leave no doubt of its truth. I am feeling a massive amount of doubt in myself, though. Siargao island’s pounding surf feels a world away from where I currently sit — in the dry, cushioned comfort of Turtle Surf Camp’s common area, alongside fellow Surfista campers Louie-An, Gil, Natasha and Nicole.

Louie-An and I are the only two absolute noobs in the bunch. Gil, Natasha and Nicole are no strangers to the surfboard, and all three have crossed international borders to attend Surfista Travels’ camp — Gil from the UK, and Natasha and Nicole from Singapore.

Speaking solely for myself, I am 100% landlubber. My knowledge of the sea ends where I can no longer stand with my neck above water. What do I know about riding a wave on a surfboard in the open ocean? I’m about to find out. Surfista Travels, and the multiple surf breaks down Siargao’s east coast, are here to see to that.

Lesson one: the sea is not your friend. “The ocean is your playground, but you’re dealing with an element that is huge and powerful,” Elaine tells us before we hit the beach. “It can be forgiving one day, next it can be slapping you in the face!”

At 7am, we hit the beach directly across Tourism Road from Turtle Surf Camp. We’re each assigned a personal instructor, hired from among Elaine’s local contacts in the Matanjak Surf School. My instructor, Piro, is a wiry, tanned guy with bleached hair and a never-ceasing smile.

Using a board resting on the sand, Piro drills me on the proper technique for the “pop-up” — the energetic push-up that should (theoretically) bring me from a supine position to a standing position. I practice my pop-up again and again, pushing up with my arms while rapidly bringing my feet into position on the board. Piro tuts his disapproval.

“You’re using your knees!” he scolds. I can’t help it; my arms don’t feel strong enough to make that solid push upward without a kneeling assist. “You won’t be stable enough to get upright; you’ll wipe out on your first try,” Piro warns me.

I find out exactly what he means when we finally get into the water. A short boat ride takes us from the beach to Matanjak surf break; the whole gang drops their boards into the sea and jumps in after them. It’s just a 10-minute paddle from the boat to Matanjak, but my lack of training betrays me. Elaine’s words ring in my head: “90% of surfing is paddling.” By the time I’m in position, my arms and dorsal muscles are throbbing, and I’m completely winded.

Surfing requires considerable upper body strength and stamina. This is not something you want to learn when you’re right in the path of the breaks, not to mention the other surfers riding them. Worse, my 90kg mass is simply too top-heavy for our slim 9ft longboard. Never mind standing; just staying on top of the board, lying belly-down, proves almost impossible.

Elaine salvages the situation by telling me to forget about the pop-up for today. I am going to bodyboard instead. Piro guides me (still belly-down on the board) to a rising wave, then lets go. A powerful wave takes hold and I accelerate towards the shore.

“Surfing on your belly, that’s still surfing,” Elaine quips later. At our post-surf debriefing back in the resort, she tells us that newbies often torture themselves for doing what comes naturally, which is to wipe out at every attempt. “Surfing is a lot of things going on at the same time,” she explains. “If people are used to sitting in an office the whole day, everything is overwhelming — the heat, the movement of the boat, the reef. There are already so many things to take in even before you have to stand up.”

Newbies like Louie-An and myself, she suggests, should take it one step at a time. “It’s your first time, just get used to everything before worrying about the technical stuff of standing up,” she cajoles us. “And have fun — don’t be too hard on yourself!”

Fun is a little slow in coming, but we get there. Over the next few days, we switch to a much larger paddleboard that probably served as a Siargao-to-mainland ferry in a previous life. Piro watches from a distance as I stand, wipe out, stand again, then wipe out again. The waves aren’t as powerful in June as they are during peak season between August to November, which is perfect for beginners but not as fun for experienced surfers. We’re enjoying it in any case; the moderate weather has tamed even the ferocious Tuason Point surf break.

“You’re doing it!” Piro yells as we near the end of our session on the third day. “You just need to align your feet with the center line, and stop walking forward!” He sounds even more excited than I am. With a more stable and forgiving board, I’ve gained a little more confidence and am beginning to shed the habit of intellectualizing my actions, learning to go with the flow instead.

Trust your body. Trust your feet. Trust the board. Free of analysis paralysis, I am making the transition to surfing upright, for about seven to eight seconds per go anyway. I am not going to get as good as Gil, the Singaporeans, Piro, or Elaine in three days, but I am happy to take what I can get — a Zen-like appreciation of surfing as a mind game that I beat little by little, day by day, bruised ribcage, scratched-up shins and an overall body soreness notwithstanding.

“For some people, surfing is meditation. Because you have to focus so much on one thing, you can’t be thinking about so many other things,” Elaine tells us on our last day. “If you keep over-thinking, you’re not enjoying the process. But if you let go and stand up — go.”