How It Changed the Way I See Myself
I still remember the exact moment I clicked “book now.” My heart was racing — not just from the excitement, but from the weight of what it meant. This wasn’t just a surf trip. This was me, finally taking a leap into the unknown, alone.
Up until that point, most of my holidays I’ve spent with friends, partners, or family. We’d fix dates, debate destinations, and usually compromise on what we’d do. But this time, it was just me. No one else’s schedules. No one else’s preferences. No safety net.
And that was both exciting and terrifying.
For weeks, I’d gone back and forth — telling myself that I could always book “later,” that maybe now wasn’t the right time, that I should save the money for something else. But deep down, I knew those were just excuses. At some point, you have to stop waiting for the perfect moment and create it yourself.
The Quiet Fears Before the Leap
Looking back, I realise my hesitation wasn’t really about the money, or the destination, or the timing. It was about me.
Would I meet anyone I connected with? Would I feel awkward, standing alone in a group of strangers who might already know each other? Would I be the slowest in the surf lessons? Would people think I didn’t belong there?
It’s funny — we like to think we’re confident, but drop us into a completely new environment, and all those small, quiet insecurities start to whisper again. And for me, this was amplified by something else: the people back home.
When People Only See the “Old You”
The truth is, I had changed a lot in the years leading up to this trip. I’d worked on myself, physically and mentally. I’d become more disciplined, more self-aware, more willing to take risks. But the people around me — my friends, my family — had known me for years.
And when people have known you for years, they don’t just see you now — they see every past version of you layered on top. They remember the shy you, the hesitant you, the one who stayed in their comfort zone.
Even if you’ve changed, their perception takes time to catch up. Sometimes, it never fully does.
I realised that I wanted to be somewhere where no one knew me at all — where people would meet only the current version of me, not the echoes of who I was. Somewhere I could show up authentically, without history or past.
Why a Surf Trip Felt Like the Right Place to Start
Of course, I could have gone anywhere alone — but a surf trip had its own unique appeal. Surfing is active, social, and humbling all at once. You can’t fake it; the ocean doesn’t care who you are. You learn by showing up, again and again, with a willingness to fall and try again.
More importantly, a surf camp offers a ready-made community. People arrive with similar goals — to learn, to connect, to challenge themselves. It’s not like checking into a hotel where everyone keeps to themselves. There’s a natural openness, a built-in icebreaker.
Still, this wasn’t without its unknowns. What if everyone already knew each other? What if they were all younger, or older, or wildly different from me?
The Variables You Can’t Fully Control
When you book a surf trip, there are a few variables that immediately pop into your head:
- Accommodation — Will I feel comfortable sharing a space, or should I go private?
- Travel logistics — Will the journey there feel smooth or stressful?
- Social atmosphere — Will people be friendly and open, or will it take a lot of effort to connect?
For me, these were all unknowns. And because I’d never done a trip like this before, there was no frame of reference. I didn’t know what to expect.
This is one of the reasons why, in my own surf camp today, I put so much emphasis on transparency. We show our spaces exactly as they are. We give guests a real idea of the crowd, the schedule, the vibe — because I remember being on the other side, unsure if I was making the right choice.
Landing in a New Life, even only for a Week
From the moment I arrived, something shifted. The air was warm, the sky impossibly blue, and the Atlantic was right there, breathing in and out with the tides.
But more than that, the people I met didn’t know my past. They didn’t know the versions of me that second-guessed themselves or hesitated. They only saw the person standing in front of them now — curious, open, and ready.
That was liberating. It felt like I’d been given a blank page to write on.
In conversations, I noticed myself speaking more confidently. I even lead group activities without overthinking it. I laughed more easily. I didn’t have to “become” someone else — I just had to let the current version of me be visible.
The Transformative Power of New Contexts
We underestimate how much our environment shapes us. Back home, surrounded by people who have known us for years, it’s easy to slip into old patterns. But when you put yourself in a new setting, around people who reflect back only what they see now, you get to experience yourself differently.
That’s what happened for me.
Every surf session, every shared meal, every sunset talk on the beach was a reminder that life could be lighter, more spontaneous, more present. And somewhere in those days, I felt a pull — a deep, unmistakable sense that this was not going to be a one-time thing for me.
The Pull You Can’t Ignore
There’s a book I read on that trip that talked about the “soul of the world” — the idea that when something deeply calls to you, you have to follow it. If you ignore it, the pull doesn’t go away. It just turns into a quiet, persistent ache.
That trip planted something in me. It wasn’t just about surfing — it was about creating the conditions for transformation. About building a space where people could come, drop their old labels, and meet themselves completely new.
A couple of years later, that pull led me to start my own surf camp. But the seed was planted in those first days, in that first leap into the unknown.
Why I Think Everyone Should Try This Once
I’m not saying everyone should quit their job and open a surf camp. But I do think everyone should, at least once, put themselves in a place where no one knows their history.
Where the only version of you that exists is the one standing there, in that moment.
For me, that was my first solo surf trip. For you, it could be something else entirely. But the principle is the same: growth thrives in new soil.
And sometimes, all it takes is booking the ticket.
