By Harold Osmer
Scratch one more item off the list. Of all the physical activities I’ve tried along the way, surfing is the only one I’ve not given in to. Until today.
Now a more well-rounded person than I used to be, my once athletic prowess never took to riding waves. Body surfing, hanging at the beach, sure. Plenty of times. I even got pretty good on a boogie board for awhile. But never with an actual surf board.
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The big black Malibu Makos Surf Club van parks at Zuma Beach’s north end, providing group and private lessons for all ages. “I’ve had three year olds out there with me,” said instructor Joe Rickabaugh, “on up to seventy. Weekends are busiest and we often get entire families signed up.”
My wife and I have been walking that stretch of beach most Sundays since last year as post-cancer therapy so we’ve seen the MMSC operation. There is a wetsuit fitting, some ground lessons, basic instruction on the coaching terms you’ll hear, then out to the waves we go. Joe held onto my board from behind and helped me pick up speed as waves approached. He steadied it while calling out encouragement.
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“Up to your knees!”
“Get your feet on the line!”
“You’re doing great!”
We’re mostly catching white water but the thrill is there, water is warm, and I’m having a ball. Nobody but me and Joe know I’m here. The story can be told later (now).
Joe is an engaging young man, lifeguard by trade. His home is in nearby Agoura though he basically lives at the beach. “My dad was a surfer so I was here from a very early age. By the time I was twelve, I knew I was going to be a lifeguard,” he says as we walk back out to catch another wave. “Most folks don’t realize how long a shift can be in those little blue shacks. If you’re busy, time goes faster. But usually it’s a long drawn out day. And I won’t trade it for anything.”
My wetsuit feels spray painted on and I hesitate to think of how it actually looks. But anyone who knows me knows I don’t care and the waves are calling. Balancing on a surfboard is tricky but doable. The water keeps moving, the board keeps moving, and Joe keeps trying to compensate for whatever missteps I’m making. There were a couple of times I wished he wasn’t helping so much.
Falling off was quite fun and I got the hang of that with adeptness not usually shown by beginners. I managed to stand up a couple of times and rode one to the beach.
Excuse me:
Wiping out is gnarly! Ankle busters wreaked havoc on this barney. Joe and I formed the lineup and ripped an hour session in the soup taking one to land.
Though 56 and just below the optimal flexibility threshold, I was getting the hang of it about the time my energy tank went empty. Surfing is worth doing at least once in your life. Maybe twice in mine (we’ll see how friendly I get with the fine folks from Tylenol later). *
Malibu Makos is filling a niche since 1991. Group, private, youth camp, and corporate gatherings are offered. Many of the instructors are current lifeguards, like Joe, and all have water safety certifications.
(310) 317-1229
*No records or bones were broken in the data compilation portion of this article.
Images, left to right: The Malibu Makos Surf Club wagon, filled with surf boards, wetsuits, other dream-filling items; Harold Osmer getting out to the beach on a Wednesday afternoon and living the dream; and Joe Rickabaugh, lifeguard and surf instructor, living the dream. The author is a senior editor of LA Car and the proprietor of West Hills Wood.