What Surfing, Taught Me About Paddle Boarding

Warm salt water hurled me around beneath the surface. The tug of the leash attached to my ankle reminded me my board was still somewhere above. I knew I would resurface soon. I was just basking in the feeling of being alive.

I always dream of the ocean. That is where I wanna be. There is something magical about it all. Maybe it's the salt. Mmm, I love salt. Maybe it is the way your hair feels after you get out. Or maybe it was my entire childhood spent dreaming of being on the edge of it, finding adventure.

In February 2016, while on an ecotourism course in Costa Rica, I was introduced to surfing in Limón, Costa Rica.

We had done many things that day. We traveled three hours in a stifling hot bus, stopping to get plantain chips on the side of the highway. Once we arrived at the port city, we had a choice to make: bike around town or rent some surfboards and try our luck.

The surf was big—too big for a newbie. I had never experienced that much power before. The ability to lose control was always present.

The ocean is different. It's not a lake or a river. You can't even drink it.