There are certain things in life that I've always wanted to try. Surfing has always been one of them.

Been there, done that. Rode the wave, Swallowed the seawater, got the scar to show to people in the pub.

Steve took me surfing last week while we were at Mtwalume and even though I can appreciate the adrenalin rush of surfing I don't think I'll ever be giving it a bash again. At least not in this lifetime. I'll leave that until I open my eyes and discover I am resident in the body of Kelly Slater. Or perhaps Eddie Aikau.

Until the point at which I waded into the Indian Ocean the closest I've ever been to a surfboard was when I walked past the Quicksilver shop in Edinburgh and thought it'd look cool to have a half surfboard sticking out the wall of my living room. I've canoed on the Forth estuary and have ridden a few waves by paddling frantically to catch the rising wall of water, but as for actually surfing, never done it. Until that day last week when the Gods that rule the ocean decided to spit me back onto the land for being to small to keep.

I was, as you can see in this pic...

,

Determined enough in my purposeful stride into the waves. And that's when it all went tits up.

Steve had explained to me the basics of surfing and I've ridden a skateboard in my time so I thought I'd be pretty quick to catch on to the art of surfing. It looks easy enough on the Extreme channel, I thought. How wrong I was. From the moment I was past waist height I could feel the current pull against my legs. No problem, I thought, it's all part of surfing. Just climb on board the board, paddle like a demon to get onto the face of the wave, stand up and keep your balance. Couldn't be easier. Wanna bet?

At this point...

I was still hopeful.

Steve, however, wasn't. From where he was he could see the rocks I was being dragged towards.

I, meanwhile, was thinking to myself that I was A-OK. The waves that were tossing me about seemed to be not attempting to drown me. Yet. That was about to change though. If only in my mind.

After several attempts to get on the board, find a point of balance and turning over like a drunken turtle, Steve appeared in my eyeline with what looked like concern in his eyes. If I had been able to say anything to him it would, at that point, have been "This is fun. In a scary kind of way, it's almost like a rollercoaster with water involved."

But, due to him saying to me, in a very concerned tone of voice, "You're heading towards the rocks, can you swim in from here?" and continuing with the remark "Whatever you do, just don't panic on me." my mindset changed from this-is-dangerously-fun mode to holy-fuck-I-could-die mode.

At that point every wave, which had previously been a bringer of a whoop-rise-whoop-descend-hold your breath-surface-deep breath-laugh out loud kind of rush, became a, Shit!-wave-swallow water-submerge-sink-kick wildly-swallow water-panic-swallow water-panic-Fuck-I-could-die-Please lord don't kill me-rinse and repeat episode of mayhem.

I'm not a religiously fanatical type when it comes to the existence of God. I have not been to a church in years and have no name that I can attach to my invisible deity but there are times when even the least religious person says a silent prayer. I said mine then. Hurriedly.

The little voice in my head pleaded for a respite in the relentless crash of the waves. "Get fucked..." Replied a different voice. Which at that instant I was wholly prepared to accept as the voice of God, "Who do you think you are? Moses? If you want miracles, you should have started praying a long time ago bubba. You owe me lots, I owe you jack shit. Have a nice day... If it lasts."

As wave after wave pounded over the top of me I could see reddish brown rocks out the corner of my eye. "Ahh well," I thought, "At least I'll have died in a cool way, challenging the sea. There are worse ways to go."

Something, or Someone, must have heard this thought of mine and decided that I wasn't going to be allowed to see the positive side at a time like this and I felt something solid below my feet. It was the rocks I had previously thought I was going to be dashed against and killed. I looked up to see that an almost perfect slope lead upwards past the wash line of the waves.

I walked up the slope and turned to that Steve had gotten out of the water alright. He told me to take a sit down and get my breath back. I did as I was told and sat my arse down on the rocks and took stock of my surfing career. Time to retire, I thought. Firstly, Count your limbs and check for missing parts. Which is exactly what I'm doing in this picture...

What I'm doing smiling in the following one is beyond me at this present moment. Perhaps It was the grin of someone who just survived stupidity. I'd like to think it is. Just 'cos it was.