How I Learned to Surf in Bali

The majority of summers growing up were spent at the Jersey Shore. At first, my family would cram into these little motel rooms near the beach in Seaside Park, N.J. Eventually, motel rooms evolved into bungalow rentals.
Tired of arranging accommodations for a week or so every summer, my parents decided to purchase one of those bungalows in 1995. They told my brother and I that if they bought this house, we wouldn’t go away on family vacations; the house would be our vacation. We eagerly gave our stamp of approval and have been frequenting the house since.
Following the last day of school each year, we would pack into the car and drive the hour and 15 minutes from our “main” home to the beach. The rides down the shore were the most exciting thing ever, knowing we had two-plus months at our little getaway. We’d stay at the beach through Labor Day Weekend, coming home the day or so before the next school year started, with just enough time for back-to-school shopping to get binders, colored pencils and whatever other supplies we needed. There was even a fall I came back with blonde hair from so much time in the sun (the peroxide helped too).
Summers at the shore for two young boys would be exactly as you could imagine—endless hours in the sun and sea, a lack of shirts and footwear, and nights biking around town, usually without a plan—of course there was a little mischief involved, but c’mon, we were teenagers.
The waves at our beach were, as most in New Jersey, inconsistent. Sure, the occasional swell would come through, but more times than not, they weren’t anything worth bragging about. The days before and after an off-shore storm, particularly a hurricane, brought the largest swells.
My brother and I got into body boarding (also known as boogie boarding) at a young age. We had our matching rash guards and board bags, though our boards and fins differed in color. He dabbled in surfing for a few summers, but it never appealed to me. I thought, “Why waste my time surfing these waves? They aren’t worth it.” Sure, I took his board out once or twice and obviously failed to make any headway with a new venture, but I’ve always had an itch to learn.
So when Volcom reached out and invited me to Bali, Indonesia, one of the meccas of the sport, I immediately thought: “This is where I’ll learn to surf.”
On our second day in Canggu and under the guidance of not one, but two professionals, I stood up on my first wave—on my third attempt, mind you. (I’m as impressed as you are.)
We rented a long, wide board from a local warung and took to the sea. The swells were a good height in the distance, but we started further inland—on the beach, in fact—before venturing out.