I learned to surf on Sri Lanka’s south coast – here’s what it was like

I was washed up on the beach, my tears mixing with the salt water. Snot trickled down my face as I mumbled to my surf instructor, “I need a break.” My body was tired, and my arms were starting to ache after what felt like the 800th pop-up and subsequent wipeout off my big plastic surfboard.

He walked over to me, begging me not to be upset, reassuring me that if I just keep taking baby steps, I’ll become a surfer. But after watching first-timers, ranging from six to 60 years old, stand up and ride waves without issue, I was starting to have serious doubts.

Popular surf spots in Sri Lanka

Surfing always felt like a pipe dream given my upbringing in chilly, shark-infested New England waters. So, after years of putting it off, I decided to spend a month in Sri Lanka learning how to surf. 

The south coast of Sri Lanka is a bona fide surfer’s paradise. It feels like the Bali of yesteryear, where perfect baby waves roll into its myriad bays on a continuous loop. There are plenty of bohemian surf towns to choose from, including Weligama, Mirissa, Ahangama, Unawatuna and my personal favourite, Hiriketiya.

Hiri, as locals call it, has a crescent bay, sandy bottom and clean waves, meaning easy, safe surfing. Nearly a dozen surf schools line the beach, piled high with surfboards and locals in rash guards asking if you want to take a lesson. Costing between 5,000 and 6,000 Sri Lankan Rupees for an hour-long session (most surf schools are open to bargaining), it’s a steal for a lesson in one of Asia’s best surf towns.

The best time to surf in Sri Lanka

Surf season on Sri Lanka’s south coast runs from November to April before crews pack up their boards and head east. Arugam Bay, or “A Bay,” is the country’s most popular surf spot from May through September.

Since I came to Hiri in January with the goal of getting up and riding waves, I had to choose my surf school carefully. I read the Google reviews, tried out a few different surf schools, and ultimately stuck with Surf Monkey Surf School. The boards were new, my instructor was knowledgeable, and he seemed genuinely invested in getting me standing up and riding a wave.

When I asked how long it takes for someone to stand up on a wave, he said usually one to two lessons. I just finished my fifth lesson with no luck, and feeling more confident than ever that I was definitely not a natural. With a lifelong penchant for perfectionism and a tendency to beat myself up, this was about the time that I’d give up trying something new. But I had planned an entire month here with the goal of learning to surf, and I couldn’t give up after less than a week. 

So, it was clear that I needed a mindset change if I was ever going to ride a wave and actually enjoy it. The next day, I set out on my sixth lesson, board under my arm with the mantra, “If you enjoy just ten minutes in the water, today was a success.” 

Mastering the basics

By this point, I had my pop-up down with scrapes and rubbed raw feet to prove it. Part of my problem was not putting my front foot close enough to the front of my board and not bending my legs once I stood up. So, as my instructor barked to start paddling, and I stood up, I shifted forward and got low on the board, my arms outstretched, helping me balance. I felt the wave form under me, catapulting me forward, turning into whitewash behind me. I had a huge smile on my face as I fell into the water. “You did it! Amazing job.” My instructor shouted, arms in the air.

A huge wave of relief washed over me. I had finally ridden a wave; I could end this torturous experiment. But no one told me that once you catch one wave, you just want to keep catching more. So, I paddled back out and rode five more waves into the shore. 

It has taken me hours longer than I expected to get the basics down, but once I did, I got my bearings and my confidence. For the next three weeks, I kept taking lessons, improving my stance and riding multiple waves every session.

Although it was clear that my hopes and dreams of joining the World Surf League were dashed, I was happy I stuck with it. I could have given up, reduced to days spent eating hoppers and sipping on fresh coconuts, watching other travelers learn how to surf. Instead, I improved slowly, very slowly, and by the end, I barely needed my instructor’s guidance. 

And while Sri Lanka is arguably the best and easiest place in Asia to learn, brace yourself; surfing is a hell of a lot harder than it looks.

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