Should You Learn to Surf in Bali? My Dramatic Experience

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

I said it with conviction. The kind you reserve for medical emergencies and very bad life decisions.

When I didn’t receive my desired response, I pressed a hand to my stomach and stared up at the ceiling instead, breathing shallowly, as if movement alone might finish me off. If I was going to fake my own demise, I was going to commit to it. I waited for Dave to respond.

Nothing.

“I feel… really unwell,” I added, softer this time.

I cracked an eye open when I still received no response.

There Dave was, sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes and utterly unmoved. My partner had seen this performance before and he wasn’t about to be fooled again. Too many times he had seen me book a diving lesson and wake up that morning having developed some kind of mysterious, severe, and yet surprisingly short-lived, illness.

He’d learned that when faced with the prospect of leaving my comfort zone, I would do everything I could to avoid it.

As a final Hail Mary, I reached for my laptop and swivelled it towards him. “Look at this, babe,” I said.

The Biggest Risks of Death in Bali.

I began to read the article aloud.

“Motorbike accidents,” I said, nodding, as if this was all very sensible so far. “Drownings. Which is not great, because we’re… you know… going into the ocean.”

I scrolled.

“Jellyfish stings!” I announced. “Bali is home to the box jellyfish, which is considered one of the world’s most dangerous marine creatures, with stings that can be fatal if not treated immediately.”

I stared at Dave with wide eyes while he looked emotionlessly back at me. I couldn’t believe it: he wasn’t scared at all. In fact, he even looked a little bored.

I closed my laptop.

There was a long silence. I waited for Dave to reassure me; to say okay, we don’t have to go, or you’re right, this is a terrible idea.

But alas. He stood up and held out his hand, and I knew this was really happening.

There was no more pretending to be unwell.

I gulped.

I was nervous.

I was terrified.

I was going surfing.

Now, I feel like I need to take a step back and explain to you why, exactly, I was acting like taking a surf lesson was the most terrifying activity in the world.

And even more than that, explain why I had been the one to sign me and Dave up for it. I agree with you: it seems really bizarre.

I wasn’t being forced to go surfing; far from it. No, after seeing so many people learning to surf in the waters of Bali, I had decided that I wanted to try it out, too. Surfing was something that adventurous people did, and I was travelling to widen my horizons and try new things.

The problem was, I always love the idea of leaving my comfort zone until it comes time for me to leave my comfort zone. At that point, I suddenly start panicking and telling myself I can’t do it.

I start pretending I’m unwell.

I wanted to be the kind of person who tries surfing without a second thought. The type of person who doesn’t panic about jellyfish and sharks and drownings and concussions, but instead gets up on the board and throws herself into a brand new experience.

The funny thing is, whenever I’ve forced myself out of my comfort zone, I’ve always been so grateful that I did so. I would feel myself growing stronger and braver… until the next new experience came along and then I’d be convinced I was going to die.

With thoughts of cardiac arrests filling my mind, I took a deep breath and entered the door of Odyssey’s Surf School. This school is home to some of the best surf coaches in Bali and has been operating for decades. They offered group and private lessons, and even had a photographer on hand to snap photos of you riding the waves to shore.

Dave and I were led into a changing room and handed a rash vest for the top half of our bodies. I didn’t say anything to the staff, but I was particularly concerned that my legs were still exposed, because, well, jellyfish.

We were handed a couple of surf boards and followed our instructor down to the shore. There was no backing out now.

I eyed the ocean with suspicion as we set our boards down on the sand, then turned my attention to my instructor.

“First,” he told us, as he began paddling through the air, “you want to lie on your board correctly.”

To my surprise, this part of surfing was more involved than just flopping on your stomach and waiting for the wave to take you away. You want to lie further down the board than you think, and it’s important to keep your chest raised and your head looking forward.

“Paddle with alternate arms, like this,” he added, swinging one arm forward and then the other. “Smooth, long strokes. You don’t want to splash too much.”

Then came the surfing itself: grip the board, push down with your hands until you’re in a plank position, bring your left foot beneath your torso, then stand up in one fast, fluid motion. He demonstrated the move for us repeatedly, then it was our turn to practice.

We spent ten minutes of our two-hour lesson practicing these basics, but there’s only so much you can learn on dry land. It was time to take our skills to the water.

I followed our instructor out to sea, scanning the water for dangers and wincing whenever a piece of seaweed happened to brush past me. Once we were waist-height in the water, he held my board steady while I clambered up on to it.

At least I didn’t have to worry about the jellyfish from up here.

I gripped the edges of my board, wincing as the rough edges dug into my fingertips. It felt like squeezing a roll of sandpaper, but the pain helped lessen my fears and gain some focus.

I can do this.

At that moment, the sounds of laughing children, the squeals of surfers, and the whine of traffic faded into nothingness. All that was left was the sound of my heavy breathing and my heart throbbing in my ears.

I focused straight ahead as my board and I became one.

Before I even had time to think, my instructor was suddenly shoving my board forwards.

“GO! GO! GO!”

The force of the wave took my breath away and I hurtled uncontrollably towards the sand at what felt like the speed of light.

I let out a strangled cry and instantly forgot everything I’d just been taught.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

In a panic, I pulled myself up to my hands and knees, where I remained for a few seconds, wobbling wildly, before losing my balance and tumbling off the board with a yelp.

Whoops.

I turned back around just in time to see Dave go racing past me, looking just as uncertain, before he flung himself up in the air and straight into the ocean.

That was embarrassing.

But you know what else it was? Exhilarating.

Now that I had experienced one run, I was no longer afraid. My fears had been replaced by determination, and my competitive nature had me yearning to successfully surf before Dave. As I waded back to the instructor, I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face.

Surfing, it turns out, is so much fun.

As I wiggled back into position on the board, my instructor told me what to focus on. On my last attempt, I had waited too long to stand and I had needed to let go with my hands sooner.

For my next go, I was self-assured, repeating my new mantra over and over in my mind: stand up, stand up, stand up, stand up.

The next wave came as a surprise and I was off again, the board wobbling from side to side. How was I supposed to balance on something so unstable?

“Stand!” I could hear my instructor shouting, but my legs were frozen in place and I had no idea how to.

I soon learned that you have to grow comfortable with discomfort when you’re surfing. And you have to trust that your body will find its balance.

It feels so unstable when you’re lying on a rocking surfboard, so much so that it doesn’t feel safe to stand. You feel like you need to wait to gain control of the board before you make your move, but that moment never arrives.

You just have to trust the process and trust your body and throw yourself up in the hopes that you can find your balance.

It takes a long time for that to happen.

Over and over, I would push my board back to the instructor, clamber up, then attempt to leap to my feet with grace… only to smack right back into the water.

Despite this, I could feel myself improving with each and every go.

There’s so many things to focus on at once when you’re surfing, but my instructor repeated them to me before each and every run: “Look up, don’t look down. Keep your arms out. Bend your knees.”

I could feel the pieces starting to fall into place, but I was still struggling to get my body to do what I needed it to.

All too often, I would forget to keep my knees bent, then lose my balance within a second of getting to my feet. I’d struggle to let go of the board with my hands when it was wobbling so much. I would find myself standing in the wrong position, with both feet at the back of the board, causing it to flip into the water.

I couldn’t believe that an hour had passed when our instructor started motioning for us to leave the water and head back on to the beach for a break. I couldn’t believe that I didn’t want to get out of the water.

Back on the sand, Dave and I chatted and chattered about our hour on the water and we were both convinced that we were right on the cusp of successfully riding a wave to shore. Every single time we got on the board, we both felt like this was it, but every single time, there would be something that wasn’t quite right.

As I sipped on a bottle of water, I tuned in to just how much my body was suffering. My eyes were burning from the seawater, my throat felt raw, my fingers were vibrating, and my thighs were bleeding. I’d been having so much fun that I hadn’t even noticed.

Our instructor encouraged us to practice some more on our boards while were were on solid ground. Chest raised, eyes forward, plank position, one leg up, let go with your hands, squat low, arms out, balance, balance, balance.

I was shattered, but I wasn’t about to give up. With one more hour in the water, I was certain I’d be able to nail it.

Suddenly, something inside of me clicked, and on my first attempt after the break, I somehow managed to put everything together. In one smooth moment, I pulled myself up on to the board, held out my arms, and stayed there.

Upright.

Balanced.

Racing towards the beach.

I was surfing.

And it felt so good.

It was amazing.

My form was far from perfect, as you can see in the photo (bend your knees!) but I was doing it. Finally, I was able to get myself standing on the board and riding a wave to shore. It felt euphoric, and I cheered with Dave when he nailed his first successful ride next.

The second half of our lesson, then, was all about improvement. Now that we could find our balance on the board, we could work on lowering our centre of gravity, perfecting our foot position, and even trying our hand at choosing a wave to ride.

I was having so much fun that I felt like crying when our time was up. I had discovered a new passion and I wanted to do this every single day.

For the rest of that week, all Dave and I did was talk about surfing. Our fingers were covered in blisters and sores, the skin of our thighs and knees had been rubbed raw, and the DOMS were so painful we could barely walk upstairs. There aren’t many situations were I’d say that that amount of pain was worth it, but this was absolutely one of them.

I’ve spent most of my life firmly within my comfort zone and deeply afraid by the prospect of trying anything new. My surf lesson in Bali was absolute proof that this was a terrible way to live my life. Imagine if I’d given into those fears that morning and had cancelled the lesson?

How many more experiences are out there that I’d fall in love with if I only gave them a go?

If you ever find yourself in Bali and you’re contemplating whether to take a surf lesson, I hope this article will convince you to sign up. Surfing is such a fun sport, and if I can do it and enjoy it, you most certainly can.

If you’re looking for a recommendation, I obviously loved my time with Odyssey’s Surf School. They’re one of the best-rated and most-trusted surf schools in Bali for a reason: they’re absolutely wonderful, and getting photos at the end of the experience made it even more special!

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