Surfin’ in the city

BY DUNCAN RHODES, www.BARCELONA-LIFE.COM
Photography: Photolibrary, Alamy

As duels go, history has probably witnessed fairer ones. The vast incomparable ocean, with its billions of tonnes of surging power and terrifying ability to rip a ship’s mast from its hull, swallow steamliners whole and devastate entire coastlines, versus me, a 5’7”, suburb-dwelling softie, who’d lose in a scrap with an above-averagely mean school girl. To make matters worse, my weapon for combating this liquid Goliath is not a cosmic-sized vacuum cleaner, but a bright orange “fish board” which is threatening to knock me over every time the wind blows.

My only consolation is that the sea is in a decidedly meek mood today, and there are just a few small waves breaking off the shore of Barceloneta beach …

Barcelona is more famous for Gaudí than for ground swell, but in recent years residents of this coastal city have noticed the perfect surf conditions that arrive each autumn, driven by north-west winds. Brazilian-born Cesar Neves has witnessed the sport’s huge growth in popularity from his workplace, Box 220 surf shop.

“Two years ago we only sold beach clothes and fashion accessories, but recently we had to build this extension,” he says, gesturing to a vast shed packed with sparkling new wetsuits and surfboards. “Now we sell 75 to 80 boards a year. The waves are perfect and we have very strong, very fast tubes.”

Today, the rip-roaring surf is conspicuously absent, making it a good time for a beginner like me to dip my toes in. Cesar has agreed to show me the ropes and my instruction begins on terra firma. He has me lie face down on the board, whereupon I practise “popping up” from the paddling position to straddling the board upright. So far so good, but I’m about to find out there’s a world of difference between springing cat-like to my feet on the sand, and doing this on the waves.

As we prepare to hit the water I have just one more important question to ask Cesar – and it’s not about surfing technique.

If there’s one thing that strikes the fear of God into me (other than a phone call from the student loans company), then it’s jellyfish. When I mention this to Cesar he makes an exclamation of pain and shows me a large white scar on his wrist. “It’s like someone is biting you!” he says, gnawing his own hand to emphasise his point. Not exactly the answer I was hoping for.

In fact, once I’m in the water, jellyfish are the last thing on my mind. For one thing, the sea is far from what I consider comfortable bathing temperature and for another, as we paddle 40 or 50m from shore, it occurs to me that we’re quite a considerable distance further away from dry land than is covered by my 5m swimming badge – my greatest water-based achievement so far. I hope the lifeguard is a particularly astute one, although if I needed any extra motivation not to drown, then avoiding the kiss of life from Spain’s very own David Hasselhoff is certainly providing it.

Predictably, after waiting aeons in between each breaker, I fail to generate enough speed to keep up with the first few half-decent waves. Even more predictably, when I do finally time my paddling to perfection, my panicked attempt to spring into position bears no resemblance to the technique I had just perfected on the beach. Instead I am plunging face first into the element for a Neptune cocktail, with extra brine. Only after several seconds of frantic dog paddle do I manage to surface, coughing up gallons of salt water. I stumble, half-drowned, to the shore, my board in tow, my stomach retching and my hair totally ruined. Apparently Cesar expects me to get back out there.

Once more at sea, I sit shivering on my board for what seems like a cold eternity, miserably failing to catch what few breaks come my way. But then finally, with a tremendous effort, I manage to get my board motoring in time with a medium-sized wave. As the current sweeps me along, I push up my shoulders, plant my back foot – just like Cesar said – and bring my other foot forward under my chin. With my knees bent and arms outstretched I somehow manage to maintain my balance, and suddenly the realisation dawns on me – I’m surfing. I’m actually surfing!

It’s a sensation that lasts approximately 1.5 seconds before I’m tossed once again into the big blue. This time, when I come up for air, far from feeling dejected, I feel more macho than Patrick Swayze leaping out of an aeroplane in Point Break. Back on shore it’s hearty congratulations and high fives all round, before I triumphantly return home – for a hot bath and a nice cup of tea.

TALKING THE TALK…

Dude, where’s my surfboard?

¿Colega, donde está mi tabla? (Kohl-ay-gah dohnday ehs-tah mee tab-lah)

Surfing’s the source man… swear to God.

Surfear es el principio de todo… lo juro por Dios. (Surf-ee-ah ehs ehl printhip-ee-oh de to-doh… lo hoo-roh por dyohs)

Sweet!

¡Mola! (Moh-lah!)

I caught my first tube today.

He pillado mi primer tubo hoy. (Ay pee-yah-doh mee pree-mair too-boh oy)

You’ve got seaweed in your hair.

Tienes algas en la cabeza. (Tee-yehn-ays al-gahs ehn lah kab-ay-thah)

Jellyfish – 12 o’clock!

¡Medusa a las doce! (Medoo-sah ah lahs doh-say)

Get out of my wave, rookie!

¡Salir de mi onda, novato! (Sal-eer day mee ohn-dah, no-bah-toh)

Nice wetsuit. Where can I buy one?

Bonito traje. ¿Donde puedo comprar uno? (Bon-ee-toh trah-hay. Dohn-day pwehdoh kohm-prahr oo-noh)

GETTING ON BOARD…

Barceloneta Beach is probably the best surfing in BCN for expert boarders. Not only are the waves the biggest, but you’ll also have the biggest crowd to watch you. Boards and wetsuits can be hired from Box 220 surf shop (www.box220.com). Bogatell, just past the Olympic Port, is good for beginners, while two beaches up at Nova Mar Bella you’ll find the Catalunya Surf School (www.escolacatalanadesurf.com). Nearby the beaches of Montgat and Castelldefels are seeing a steady increase in the numbers of wave-riders, thanks to their prime surfing conditions, while Sitges (www.thebigkahuna.es) offers something for the experienced and beginner alike – the beach to the right has stronger swell, and to the left is better for beginners. The season in these parts starts in September and runs through to May, with the best conditions between October and December. Keen boarders should bear in mind this is the Mediterranean and not the Atlantic, so big waves aren’t guaranteed.