“Don’t crash into the dock!”
Too late. The sun was hot in my face, the bay water was rolling away below, and after a slew of sweet profanity I was down. In the water. With the seaweed, eels and who knows what else (I prefer not to speculate). I was terribly close to a huge boat and losing my entire college savings account.
“Flippery fish sticks!” I exclaimed, spewing water out of my mouth as I emerged from the green muck of the bay, reaching desperately for any form of a nearby anchor. “Where’s my board? I’m dying… HELP!”
While this certainly wasn’t one of my prouder moments (in fact, probably among my most embarrassing), it was also the most memorable experience of my entire summer.
Given that I’m writing about paddleboarding in the sports section of this newspaper, with fantastic athletes representing a wide range of sports, you’d think I would be trying to make myself seem as non-pathetic as possible (forget athletic). But in large part, that’s the joy of stand-up-paddle (SUP).
By all means, it’s the type of thing that you make fun of your friends for doing, and it’s your failures (trust me, there will be plenty) that keep you laughing long after your time on the water.
But wait—what’s this? SUP?! Yes, this slightly dangerous, totally exhilarating activity is perhaps the best, most amazing, as well as fastest growing-water sport in the world.
I joined the energetic community of SUP enthusiasts two summers ago, while vacationing with my family at our summer retreat on the Jersey Shore. Like all beginners, I began on my knees, before rising slowly onto my feet as my confidence swelled and I grew more comfortable with my paddle.
On a bright purple board beside my sister, our instructor coaxed (or really yelled), “Don’t get carried out with the tide!” I quickly fell in love with SUP, with the water, with the taste of freedom—all of it.
And I didn’t forget it.
So, during the summer of 2020, when COVID-19 came crashing over my dreams like a tidal wave, I made a pledge to myself: I will get back onto a paddleboard. No matter how hard they tried, none of my family’s ideas of recreating summer in our backyard—from inflatable kiddie pools to sprinklers—could possibly fulfill my one and only wish, to return to my beloved SUP.
All of last year during virtual school, it was the prospect of gliding across the gentle waves on my board, watching the endless stretch of water melt into the idyllic horizon that kept me going. In many ways, that dream allowed me to ride out the pandemic. Forget homework or TikTok, SUP became my obsession. I would search up YouTube videos, articles, pro tips—I really surfed, or better yet, “SUPed” the web.
Finally, after spending nearly two years almost solely within the bounds of my neighborhood, I regained my freedom. Before my parents’ COVID anxiety could get in the way, I was on a plane to New Jersey in early June, and soon enough I was back to the good ol’ days of 2019: out on the water with my board, absorbing the sunshine, and most of all, my sense of long-awaited release.
While I’ve never attempted surfing, it’s obvious that SUP was invented as the layman’s version of a sport usually reserved for the most water savvy, thrill-seeking athletes. I mean just look at my sister: literally sitting if not laying down on her paddle board. In her words, not mine, she represents the epitome of a lazy paddleboarder.
Now, I don’t mean to offend any legit paddleboarders out there—when taken seriously, SUP can be intensely rigorous, with an entire array of international competitions. For amateur beachgoers like us, however, there’s a lot of gray area.
In the years since its inception, SUP has drawn a large group of enthusiasts seeking not only a good time, but also a solid workout. I paddle boarded almost 10 miles one evening during sunset this summer and I felt completely energized, while using minimal energy. I distinctly remember the gorgeous hues melting across the sky, reflecting on the water, all while drifting further into paradise.
Believe it or not, after a while I got the hang of it, and this summer, I have big dreams: I’m hoping to give lessons as a paid instructor, and perhaps I’ll stop gushing about it and actually tiptoe my way into the world of competitive racing. After all, one of the biggest SUP races in the world, The Carolina Cup, is right over in Wilmington.
At least my aspirations are more feasible than my sister’s, which is to say she wants to become a professional mermaid. In case you were wondering, she wanted that kiddie pool for a reason. But I guess she was ridiculous even before quarantine.
Anyway, I digress. I say all of this not so much for your amusement, but to encourage you to get out there on the water! Believe it or not, even in Chapel Hill, there are ample opportunities to go paddleboarding, including at Jordan Lake.
If you go, maybe you’ll be lucky enough to see me fall in!
Photo courtesy of Helen Katz/ECHO
