november ride

I'd heard about Lake Michigan surfers before. Then I met electric Emily, who spent five years surfing in California before coming back to the people under the bridge.

This afternoon, she heard waves were out at Holland State park, so we headed west, surfboard strapped to the roof of her Lumina. Trees barren or bursting with color. It was 50 degrees out. Surfing in Michigan? In November? Really?

"This is my first documentary," she says, as I'm rolling video. Can't miss this.

We arrived and crammed into the wetsuits under towels (not as fluid as it sounds) in the parking lot with her other surfer friend, who thankfully let me borrow his extra wet suit hat. Emily had never surfed Lake Michigan, so I stayed back on the beach to absorb her wisdom and roll footage.

She rocked it. It was like riding a bike for her. She gracefully rode three long waves right away, flashing the peace sign before coming back in to fetch me. "I've never taught anyone who hasn't stood up," she says.

California girls. Did I mention she's battling a cold?

Talk about pressure. Your sick girlfriend just dominated Lake Michigan and you don't know what you're doing, only that you're wearing her extra wetsuit, and it's really tight. Really tight.

Emily tells me to stand with my legs at shoulder width, pushes me, calls me "goofy" (footed) and gives me a quick surfing lesson on the beach. We wade out in the great lake, dodging waves, my ankle strapped to the board, not knowing what to expect.

She tells me to get on the board, with my "chin by the marker" and points me in the right direction, her hand holding onto the tail. The waves start crashing.

Then she shoves me off and yells at me to start paddling when the right wave comes.

First try. Failure. Bail. Felt good though.

Second wave. We're moving. I try to stand up. Semi-success.

What!?

I'm in shock. I'm standing on a surf board, actually riding a wave without falling.

When I look back, her hands are in the air. I return the gesture. Air pumps.

Then I fall and it's over. But it felt amazing. Makes you want more.

"Second time," she says, smiling. Great teacher. Lucky student.

Third wave. Disaster.

I'm satisfied and quit before something breaks. I give her the gloves back, she grabs the key from the back of my (her) wetsuit and tells me to run to the car to change, while she wades out into the lake for another round.

We celebrated her first Great Lakes ride and my first ever surf by eating too much Mexican food at Tres Lobos.

It was delicious; and all is well.