Chasing Down The Muse:

If you happened to be on Main Beach Monday watching the four stand-up paddleboarders near the reef, and you happened to watch one of the paddleboarders inadvertently catch a wave and crash into her instructor — well, then you saw me.

Carlos Mendizabal and I had signed up for a lesson early Monday morning with the new Stand Up Paddle Company at Coast Highway and Oak Street. We arrived a bit bleary-eyed with our main concern being what to wear. The skies were May-gray overcast, and the water decidedly chilly at 62 degrees. Our instructors, Ryan and Shannon, offered us hot coffee to warm up, and a variety of wetsuit options to settle the attire issue. Carlos chose his own full suit. I grabbed my spring shorty with long sleeves.

Ryan carried the boards down to the sand at Oak Street. We followed with paddles and appropriate excitement.

Shore instruction was direct, demonstrated, and easy to understand.

“This is the board. This is where you put your feet. This is how to hold the paddle. This is how to get into the water, and this is how to stand up once you are past the waves. This is how to turn. This is how to stop.”

Actually, the instructions were a bit more detailed than that, but between the two instructors, their enthusiasm and skill sets could not have been better. They instilled confidence, put us at ease and emphasized the simplicity of the sport.

Carlos was first in the water. Ryan helped him with his board, waited for a break between the sets, and then pushed him toward the surf. He knee-boarded through the waves and was soon a distant spot as I worked my way through the surf — after a sweet push by Ryan — to join him.

The four of us headed up the coast toward Main Beach and the submerged reef that lies just to the south of the exposed rocks. On the way there, Shannon and I picked up trash. Stupid plastic bags, spent pieces of party balloons and bits of Styrofoam. We agreed next time to bring a bag instead of stuffing the garbage inside our bathing suits. Kind of yuck — but cleaning up the water trumped the creepy factor. I did draw the line, though, when I reached down to pick up a large chunk of plastic, and it turned out to be part of a dead jellyfish.