Alex Walker finds his Serengeti in the ocean

Nature has always dispensed chicken soup for my soul’s nourishment. The sea mimic’s the large open spaces I call home when the wind blows, the Serengeti’s swaying fields of tall grass parody the ocean. A long-held ambition of mine has always been to learn to surf. Bound to the bush by my chosen occupation as safari outfitter and guide, I never made the time to indulge myself. A casual conversation with the effusive and very persuasive Ingram Casey reawakened that dream. Though I can admit to having a thoroughly bendy rubber arm, in this case I casually emptied my schedule for a couple of weeks, pre “We Are Africa” a travel trade show in Cape Town.

Ingram set me up with 9 times SA ladies Champ “Nikita Robb”. Shy yet affable, Nikita exudes a mellow confidence, instantly alive when her toes touch the water. Prerequisite beachside pop ups, procrastination in the form of a protracted stretching session. Game face on (can I do this without making too much of a fool of myself?). A maiden lesson in the frothy foamies, of the not so tropical Muizenberg – the “berg”. Paddle, paddle, paddle. Back foot, front foot and here we go, hahahaha I’m up. Ooooops I’m off… So much for the controlled dismount we were shown on the beach. A few repeats of the same, and that’s it, you’re hooked.

Next day, a tough one, missioning it out to the backline. Hard graft, keep paddling, head down, head up, make like an Agama lizard chest up crashing through the impact zone to the back. Finally, huffing, puffing, wow that was hard work. It’s comfortable out here sitting in the swell. Really familiar, cosseted once again in natures rhythm. Paddle, paddle, paddle, a shove from the back and her we go. Back foot, front foot, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, my foot finds its way to the centre. I’m up. Wow, I’m actually up. Ha. A big wooohoo from the backline, Nikita providing the effervescent one-man cheering section.

It’s not all, stand up and ride. There are a lot of crash landings, but confidence must be running high because the next day we’re off, early doors to Cape Point. Today we’ve hooked up with Kirsten, our guide, the mission; to explore Cape Point, it’s distinct fynbos, geology, geography, and history, all that embraces this extraordinary habitat. Sunrise stretches out, mists hug the valleys, endemic cape sugarbird sing out. Our safari leads us to the quiet plat boom beach, Ostriches lie in the sand. Kelp forests decorate the rocks where crystal clear waves crash onto the beach. Nikita illustrates the nuances at play with a diagram in the sand.

Hollow waves, driving power behind them. Helpful hint, “stay back on your board when you pop up or you’ll be nose-diving”. Pummelled, again and again, fighting my way paddling to the backline to try once more. Crouched riding hands-on, never truly standing, feeling the raw power and exhilaration. Sensational… Battered and beaten but far from subdued, we spent the remainder of the morning exploring, diving amongst the burnt sienna, bright amber, and golden rust colours of the rolling Kelp. Shy lobster skitter along the sea bed, thistle coloured mussels encrust the rocks. Intense colours burst through the ice-cold crisp saltwater. Stimulating a creative bent, the desire to capture these images on paper.

The intensity of this special day was by no means counteracted by resuming lessons at the berg. Nikita’s mentorship dislodged an awkward bungling technique, spawning a credible if unconventional surfer. There’s a point where you begin to feel like you belong. An aspiring would-be member of the surf mafia… For me it was not solely the elation of catching a wave, it was the flow, sense, motion and drift. The sea nourishes a sense of wellbeing. Thank you, Ingram, for setting me up, thank you, Nikita, for your calm humour, your gentle passion, your mellow serenity.