Why You Should Teach Your Kid to Surf

August 17, 2010, By Jason Avant 8 comments

Jason Avant

“Dad? I think I want to learn how to surf.”

This wasn’t wholly unexpected, but hearing it was a thrilling surprise. Especially on that particular day. We were at the beach, a rarity even though we live right across the street from the ocean, and conditions were the opposite of a Brian Wilson song. The sky was grey, and a rare hurricane that had formed off of New Zealand had sent a big swell towards San Diego’s shores. The waves were well overhead, and were punishing the tourists and novice surfers who were attempting to ride them. Bodies and boards were flying, and the lifeguards weren’t getting much rest. Even as he said it, Lucas’ eyes were a bit wide, and not with excitement.

Every surfing dad wants his kids to learn The Sport of Kings, and I’m no exception. My dad grew up on San Diego county beaches – he used to sit out in the lineup (the term given to those pods of surfers you see bobbing just outside the whitewater, waiting for the next set of waves to roll in) with guys like Corky Carroll and Butch Van Artsdalen, local surfers who became legend.

When I was a kid, visiting my grandparents’ house on the north San Diego county coast, I’d admire his old original Hobie longboard, hand-shaped by Hobie Alter himself, hung from the garage roof. (Years later, after I’d started surfing, I learned with horror that my grandmother had sold that board, which would have fetched a couple grand from a collector, for a whopping $30. The thought of that still brings me to tears.)

I didn’t start surfing until my late 20’s; my parents had long since moved to Omaha, and so I didn’t get the chance to learn from him. (My roommate, who’d surfed remote beaches on Kauai for a few years, took me out – his advice: “Paddle. Stand up. Don’t fall off.”) When I first learned that my wife was pregnant, I asked myself, “will it be a boy or a girl? And will he or she be a goofy foot?”

Still, despite his proclamation, I had my doubts. We’d gotten him into the pool at 2, and his first swimming lessons went … well, swimmingly. He had no fear of the water, took to kicking and using his “big arms” (the instructor’s term for paddling), and would jump in from the deck without hesitation. Going under didn’t faze him, even without goggles.

But the pool, as we who frequent the ocean feel compelled to point out to visitors, is not the sea. The local conditions are rarely idyllic: “warm” is relative (for a couple of months, the water temperature off of San Diego might go as high as 72 degrees, nowhere near the Jacuzzi-like temps of Hawaii and Florida), and shifty tides and big swells can pose a challenge for experienced swimmers and surfers. There are stingrays underfoot, and jellyfish float hidden among the waves. To a 6-year-old, the ocean can be big, dark, cold, and scary.

And learning to surf is exhausting, both physically and mentally – it can take weeks before you’re strong enough to paddle out past the impact zone, and once you’re strong enough to get “outside”, it can take even longer to develop the skills and timing required to catch a wave, stand up on the pitching surfboard, and ride the thing.

Dedication is required; 90 percent of people I know who’ve tried to surf quit after their first time out. The time factor would be a challenge for us as well; we’re in the process of moving, to a house a few miles from the beach, and the difference between walking across the street to the waves and driving – even a few minutes – would be felt.

But all that stuff quickly was pushed to the back corners of my mind. As dads, we all hope that our kids will follow in our footsteps, that they’ll like what we like, that they’ll want to be a part of our various tribes. Lakers fan. Sci-fi geek. Artist. Writer. Musician. Surfer. Somehow when they want our pursuits for themselves, it makes those pursuits all the more meaningful for us. The ocean’s cold? I’ll get him a wetsuit. We’re moving inland? So we get up a little earlier in the morning – the waves are better anyway.

“You want to learn to surf? Ok. Well, here’s what we need to do. First, get you back in swimming lessons. Then we’ll see about getting you a small board, a foam one, so it doesn’t hurt when you get bonked on the head…” As I explained the whole learning-to-surf process to him, I caught a glimpse of my daughter, running as fast as her two-year-old legs could carry her, straight into a small wave breaking on shore. It knocked her down. She got right back up, squealing with delight, and charged right back into the water.

"Hmmm," I thought. "Wonder if she’s a goofy foot."

Jason Avant is the founder and managing editor of DadCentric.com. He is a frequent contributor to ManoftheHouse.com.