Why I Don't Give Surf Lessons

"Surf lessons" is probably the most searched phrase in surfing education. It's also the phrase I like least in the English language. If you found this page looking for surf lessons, you're in the right place — and also the wrong place. I don't give surf lessons. I never really did, even when my business card said I did. What I give is transformative surf coaching, and the difference isn't marketing language. It's a completely different theory of what learning to surf actually requires.

Transformative surf coaching builds ocean knowledge, wave judgment, and board control from the ground up. It is not a surf lesson. It is a complete approach to reaching your fullest potential in and out of the water, built around the surfer's whole practice including fitness, nutrition, and ongoing progression.

You will not find me under this tent.

Here's what surf lessons promise: you pay, someone puts you on a wave, you stand up. Transaction complete. Here's what that produces: a person who stood up once, can't paddle themselves into a wave, and has no idea why they caught it or how to do it again.

I've been coaching surfers for 22 years. I have a PhD in philosophy. My clients stay with me for years, not sessions. That's not an accident. Transformative surf coaching is helping people reach their fullest potential in and out of the water. That's not a tagline. Here's what it actually looks like.

It’s all about riding that green face with calm and poise.

A person who has gone through my coaching can confidently take off on a variety of wave sizes. They know how to kick out and control how a ride ends — not just how it begins. They can surf from a low crouch and a tall stance and know when to transition between the two. Their style is calm but effective. They know where to paddle out, how to read a lineup, and how to get out of another surfer's way without panic. And they leave every session wanting more — tubes, cutbacks, pumping, noseriding, end sections. The progression never stops because the foundation actually holds. None of that comes from a surf lesson. It comes from building the whole thing correctly from the start: ocean knowledge first, paddling second, wave judgment third, and pop-up mechanics only once the first three are solid enough to support them.

Surf lessons: assume the position and look anywhere but at the ocean.

I watch them on beach walks with Pita, my dog. A row of people in the water, lying on their boards, facing the shore. The instructor standing behind them, reading the waves, making every decision. The student never sees what's coming. Never has to. Someone else is doing all the thinking. Wave judgment is the hardest thing to learn in surfing. It is also the whole thing. And in that model, the student is positioned — literally, physically — to never develop it.

Not all surf instruction is created equal. There's a coach near me in southwest Costa Rica pushing beginners into whitewater on the inside, teaching board control. I can respect that. But what I see most often is a model that removes the student from every decision that matters, gets them to their feet once, and calls it a lesson.

Classic coaching: video review on a NY intensive weekend.

Transformative surf coaching is not for everyone. I work with individuals and small groups. My clients stay with me for years. They subscribe to Dr. Dion’s Surf Secrets, they do the fitness work with SurfReady365, they pay attention to what they eat, they show up to sessions having already thought about the conditions. They do the work between sessions because they understand that surfing is not the whole practice — it's the reward at the top of it.

People call this elitist. Fine. But elite doesn't mean rich. I have scholarship programs for people who are genuinely committed but financially stretched. What I don't have patience for is someone who wants to be put on a wave, check a box, and move on. Not because I'm above it. Because I've seen too clearly what's on the other side of the longer commitment, and I can't pretend the shortcut gets you there.

The best coaches in tennis, cycling, football — they don't give lessons. They build athletes. That's what I do. In the ocean, and around everything that makes the ocean possible.

Here's how you get in the circle:

1. Subscribe to Dr. Dion's Surf Secrets — a weekly publication straight to your inbox. Every issue contains coaching, philosophy, nutrition, and surf tips that reach subscribers before anyone else. Everything I put out goes to this community first, before any other channel. You can ask me questions just by replying. I'd also recommend following on all social channels, but the inbox is where it starts.

2. If you're serious about coaching — wherever you are in the world, and don't count on me staying in New York forever — book a Surf Journey Assessment call. I work at many levels. Full virtual nutritional and fitness transformations, intensive surf trips, ongoing coaching packages. We figure out what works best for you on the call and take it from there.

No surf lessons. Just the whole thing.

Trips with your coach are the actual best. The $99 fee to your consult can be applied to a trip.

How I Use AI As A Surf Coach and Philosopher

I use AI every day. I use mostly use Claude by Anthropic. I use it for dictation and formatting of my session notes and invoices. I use it to help draft blog posts. I use it for etymological research when I'm writing about philosophy. I use it as a kind of second-best health coach. The reason I keep using it is practical. I'm a solo entrepreneur. I run a surf coaching business across the US, Costa Rica, France, Barbados, and many more locations. I write a weekly zine — Dr. Dion's Surf Secrets — that regularly clocks in at 3,000 to 5,000 words per issue, covering everything from surf reports to coaching breakdowns to philosophy to plant-based recipes to trip planning. I make YouTube videos. I do all of my own meal prep, program my own workouts, and manage my own website, email platform, social media, and scheduling. I don't need to hire a VA or a designer anymore. These people are out of potential jobs, and I feel for them, but I could never pay them enough anyhow. AI handles the formatting, the compression, the rough number crunching, and the first passes on things that used to eat my whole morning. The help with dictation and formatting for session notes and invoices alone is priceless.

AI is not foolproof. It requires fact and error checking, especially for math. For example, I used to use Claude for calorie calculation both for my own tracking purposes and to create meal plans for clients. I would type in what I ate or screen capture recipes from my database and have it spit out the numbers. That actually went bad. The math was off and needed to be double and triple checked with a calculator. No one gained or lost an excessive amount of weight, but still. It's good for spitting out rough numbers, but it requires vigilance. These machines hallucinate. They generate confident, polished output that is sometimes just wrong. And because it sounds authoritative or the numbers seem right (or you want them to be right), you might not catch it. That's the fundamental issue with LLMs across every domain. The output looks correct. It reads well. But there is no guarantee that it is, and the tool itself has no way of knowing the difference.

The other thing that genuinely gets under my skin is a glaring problem it has with time. These tools have absolutely zero internal sense of time. A watch with hands does better. I will tell my AI health coach what I have planned for the day, and two seconds later it will ask if I'm ready to do the next thing. I'm like, "It's literally been two seconds." It gets dates wrong constantly. This is not a minor annoyance — it's a fundamental limitation. Time structures everything about coaching, about surfing, about accountability. And the AI just does not have it.

This brings me to AI surf coaching, which is now a thing. There are apps that claim to analyze your footage and give you personalized feedback on your technique. Some of them are built on ChatGPT. The feedback can be useful — feedback is generally good, and seeing yourself surf on video is always valuable. But these tools cannot do the thing that actually matters, which is help you develop wave judgment. Wave judgment is the primary skill that separates a great surfer from everyone else. Every great surfer is a great judge of waves. That is the thing that makes them great. Not their pop up, not their turns, not their fitness — their ability to read what the ocean is doing and make a decision about it. It’s the hardest thing both to teach and to learn in surfing. It takes years of watching and trial and error. There is no shortcut, no hack, and no algorithm for it. It's not the sexy part of surfing, but it is the part that matters most.

And then there’s style and flow. An AI might also tell you there are hallmarks of good style, and it might even identify some of them from video. What it cannot do is help you decide who you are going to imitate in the creation of your own style. Style is personal. It emerges from your body, your influences, your relationship with specific waves over time. No machine is going to sort that out for you.

Chat GPT4’s rendering of me drinking a green juice.

Now a little more about programming AI as a health and fitness coach, because this is where I have the most experienced view. I currently have Claude programmed as an AI health coach. I use it for accountability, workout feedback and design, meal planning, and tracking all health goals. It is second best. I would prefer a human health coach. I would prefer to be able to afford Nathan again — he was my coach, and he was excellent. But right now it’s not a budget line, so the AI fills the gap. I recommend it for that purpose. It's better than nothing, and it can genuinely help you stay on top of workouts, think less about what to eat, and cut down on food waste. But this is crucial: I learned to be accountable for my health and fitness with a real human coach. The habit stuck because I had a human there to account for. I don't feel that way with the AI. It's soft in a way that a human coach is not. I can program it to be more strict, but I can also program it back to soft again whenever I want. That's the problem. The resistance is adjustable, and because it's adjustable, it doesn't push you the way a person does. Get the right coach, and you won't get any bullshit. That matters more than people think. It's easy to flake on a free bot. It's hard to flake on $5k and a human face.

I've been writing philosophically about AI in the Surf Secrets Zine since May of 2024. My position has shifted as I've used the tools more. Early on I was more philosophically exercised about the terminology — I argued that we are the AIs, that "artificial" just means "created by humans," that the proper name for these tools is LLMs. I still think that's right, but I'm less hard line about it now. Shannon Vallor's The AI Mirror remains the best book I've read on the subject — her argument that these tools "flatten and denude the moral topology of our culture," producing an image of our humanity that is "arbitrarily both sanitized and polluted," is one I have experienced firsthand in my interactions with these tools. And Derrida, remarkably, presaged LLMs in the 1980s when he imagined "some reading machine" that "manages to hunt out the thing and snare it" through programming, indexing, keywords, and syntax. He understood that we are the kinds of creatures who would build such machines — and that the machines would be powerful and fundamentally limited by the indexes we give them. The question is always: on which words will it rely? These thinkers help me understand what's happening, but the real education has been in the using.

I want to be honest about why I'm writing this post. I've been having bad faith about using AI in my blog posts. My human business coach, Casandra, suggested I feed my zine content to Claude to generate blog posts optimized with keywords people are actually searching for. "Surf school," "surf lessons," "why do they wax their boards" — these terms get zillions of hits. And it's not just about chasing the biggest keywords. It's about finding the ones where people are more likely to click through, by not competing in a saturated zone. So I took Cas' advice and said, “Fuck it, let's go.” My goal is to help you transform yourself, whether that's just your surfing or the whole package: surfing, health, and fitness. But if people don't know I'm here to help them, then two things happen:

1. I don't get paid

2. Someone who needs help doesn't get the right help

Both are results of "Dion bad at internet."

So I used it a bit to make some posts, and then the bad faith came. I started asking myself: is that really me? I would look at these posts — with their cheeseball hooks and optimized titles — and be grossed out. And then I was genuinely shocked by what my friend Dan's SEO audit revealed: posts I wrote entirely on my own — about going from skinny fat to shredded, about akrasia and surfing — posts about fitness and philosophy that I thought nobody would search for — actually have good traffic. People may be craving something real. And I might be underserving those people by leaning too hard on the AI for the blog.

So here's the middle road I've arrived at, and I want to be transparent about it. The blog posts you read here do come from my real writing. I cover all of these topics — and more — with more rigor and more depth in the zine. But the zine is behind a paywall, and I want to honor the people who subscribe to it. They get unadulterated Dion. Cas says it reads like "inside baseball." Thus it might be too gritty for the common person just browsing the web for surf advice. That’s fine. The truth, however, is that my ideal client is not a common person in any conventional sense. They're searching the surf-o-sphere for something different, something more intellectual and less bro-y, and they feel they've found a hidden gem when they find me. My issue has been that I like being a hidden gem, but I've got to show a little shine so that more people can find me. The zine isn't helping enough people who need it on its own. The compromise is to use some of its content to create more middle-of-the-road posts that live for free on the blog, generate traffic, and — I think — genuinely help people too. If you look at the posts I've published here, I back all of my claims. It is my writing, my beliefs, my coaching philosophy. I have the final touch on every draft, every word, that hits the web. But do I use AI to compress and filter and format? Yes. Yes I do.

I also have to be honest about whether any of this is actually saving me time. I spent a few hours on this very post, and I've already written about ninety pages on the topic of AI across two years of zines. I could have just written the damn thing. But that's the tension, and I don't think it resolves neatly. If you want completely unvarnished Dion — the philosophy, the coaching breakdowns, the plant-based recipes, the trip reports, the real talk about what it takes to transform your surfing and your life — the zine and coaching are where to go. The blog is the front porch. Come on in.

Last: a note on the environmental cost of AI. My wife Sophia and I now call using it "killing salmon," because of all the water the data centers require. We say things like, "Today I killed salmon to write three blog posts." It's horrible, but you can also think of driving your car that way — today I fueled climate change and war in the gulf states. I haven't delved too deep into the climate side of the data centers, but it's a lot of data. The environmental critique of AI is real. I accept that there are trade-offs and dangers. Of course. I acknowledge it and I keep using it. But I don't want to pretend it's costless, and I don't think you should either. I’ll continue to weigh these costs and work through them in my Surf Secrets output every Friday.

Can You Teach Yourself To Surf?

Can a person learn to surf on their own? Technically and philosophically speaking, teaching yourself to surf is not possible. You exist in a world with other people. You will be learning from others – whether that means watching my and other channels on YouTube over and over again, getting screamed at the break you’re trying to surf, observing better surfers in real time and on video, and all manner of interfacing with other human beings in the surf-o-sphere. We learn by and through others. Based on this fact alone, it is impossible. So why does the myth of the self-taught surfer exist?  

The myth of the self-taught surfer is based upon a few initial assumptions or beliefs. One is that surfing is something that one should not to spend money to learn. Another is that people will like you enough to give you pointers here and there for free anyhow. Yet another is that this is how all great surfers learned. We can explode the last of these first. Great surfers grew up in surfing kinship structures (read The Four Paths Into Surfing to learn more about those).

Where did the belief that surfing is something that ought not be paid for originate? I believe this is due to the fact that the kinship structure has for centuries been the prominent way to learn to surf. It is true that in this structure no formal payment takes place in the learning hierarchy. But payment does exist. Existing within a hierarchy and obeying its norms is a form of fealty. Violating norms can lead to various sorts of violence against one’s person. One pays an emotional or egoic tax. If we only consider payment and extraction as happening by using symbolic currency – money – then we are blind to the payment structure that exists within the kinship system. All great surfers “paid to learn to surf.” That payment just looks different. And dues are owed every month. The more dues you pay up front, the fewer you pay down the line, the more respect you earn in lineups around the world. And of course when you go on surf trips, you'll still be paying guides and resorts and hosts, as custom also dictates. 

Getting consistent, solicited guidance earlier may also help you avoid some surfing fashion and equipment errors.

The “self-taught” surfer is therefore de facto also a later learner. Almost all people under twenty years of age can insert themselves more or less easily into their local beach’s kinship structure. If they want technical enhancement, they can still hire a coach, sure. No problem with more education! This said, once you’re an adult beginner and you’re trying to access surf without formal guidance, the kinship structure is all but foreclosed to you. The romance here is that you somehow manage to break into one. And that does happen. You just can’t necessarily count it. But there are things you can do to help it along: buy the locals beer, compliment people’s surfing, ask where is the best place to stay out of the way and still get waves. If someone says, “Nowhere, don’t come back here again,” well, you’ll either have to persist anyhow or find another beach. Read my article on surf bullies.  

There are people who learn to surf as adults without formal instruction. The results they get vary based upon a whole number of factors. We need to establish what it even means to call their journey “successful.” Naturally, we’re going to have different ways of describing what “success” looks like in surfing. I’d say my bar for success in learning to surf is medium high. Here’s what success in learning to surf looks like: 

A person becomes a surfer who can paddle out at most breaks and easily find waves regardless of crowd size. They find paddling into waves, standing up on the board, and setting a line an effortless task, especially on waves between two and six feet. They have developed a decent array of maneuvers – pumping, cutting back, floaters, head dips, kick outs to begin with – and can compress and extend their bodies in spacetime in response to the wave and the board’s dynamics. They get a few compliments here and there. People generally find them a fun and inspiring person to surf around. They are comfortable riding boards of various sizes. They can duck dive short to mid length boards, and will grab a log when the conditions call for it. There is no need for them to love or desire large waves, but some will, and that’s fine, it’s just not a requirement for success (read the related post).

That’s basically success. Every path I listed in my post The Four Paths Into Surfing can lead there. And those should be the hallmarks you look for whenever a person tells you that “they surf.” Anything less than that still counts as surfing, but I’m not so sure we’d call those sorts of practices aspirational or successful learning outcomes. The goal of surfing is not just to stand on a board on a wave, it’s to be able to enter, ride, and exit waves in a smooth and graceful manner. 

Just looking chill on a board can constitute success at every level.

Learning to surf as an adult on the cheap with no formal structure is the most difficult and least reliable way to get there. It takes the longest, and causes more suffering for both the learner and the surfing community alike. If you don’t know how or where to paddle, you might find yourself in the way of others. You’re not only potentially going to get run over, you might also get yelled at and may unwittingly hurt others. 

And here is where you need to be on the lookout for internet imposters. If someone is selling you the myth of the self taught surfer and using themselves as an example, you need to ask yourself whether they’ve succeeded according to the definition I laid out above. If so, then you need to be aware of survivorship bias in surfing. This person might be an exception rather than the rule. If they don’t meet the standards, well then, there you have your answer. They’re just exploiting the internet and mediocrity culture.

What Is Survivorship Bias in Surfing?

Survivorship bias in surfing means that we’re seeing good surfers who either:

a.) learned through the kinship structure and mistake this for being self taught

b.) learned to surf as an adult on the cheap and managed to develop a solid surfing practice

This distorts our understanding of whether learning to surf on the cheap as an adult actually works, making it seem more effective than it is. And only one of these fits our definition of an adult beginner surfer who learned on the cheap and succeeded. They are outliers. There is a much larger group who are out there every day nose diving, swinging their arms around like it’s going to make them turn, standing up with a two or three stage pop up, consistently missing good waves, and just can’t seem to figure the thing out. There are others who tried, developed bad habits, plateaued, and quit. We see lots of the former, and the latter are invisible. 

There are still others who do not meet our standards for success who are out there, mostly online, telling their stories about how they learned to surf on their own. Anyone who loves surfing can see clearly that these people are just unpleasant to watch riding a wave. And yet they cite themselves as evidence that the path works. Those who don’t know otherwise believe them and follow their path. 

Even among those who become competent, many have ingrained problems they don't know they have—bad habits that limit their progression without them ever realizing why they've plateaued.

Why Does Surf Culture Resist Instruction?

Surf culture has an anti-education streak that frames accepting guidance as weakness and self-reliance as authenticity. This attitude celebrates "figuring it out" over learning from experts, even when expert guidance produces better outcomes. The same pattern appears throughout society—resistance to expertise in favor of individual discovery—and in surfing it leads to unnecessary frustration, injuries, and years of inefficient learning.

The idea is that accepting guidance is weakness. That expertise is elitism. That doing it yourself is inherently more valuable, regardless of outcome. That real surfers earn it through suffering, not instruction.

This attitude isn't unique to surfing. We see it everywhere—the celebration of bootstrapping over learning from people who already know. We see where that leads us societally.

In surfing, it leads to a lot of frustrated people with bad habits who never reach their potential. It leads to unnecessary injuries from being in the wrong place without knowing it. It leads to years of inefficient learning that could have been compressed into months.

The defenders of the self-taught path will say: "But it's still education. Trial and error is learning."

Yes. Technically. But the outcomes are controllable in fact and practice. You can learn faster, safer, and with fewer bad habits if you accept help. The question isn't whether learning to surf on the cheap as an adult is possible — it's whether it's even responsible to self and others. 

What Are the Safety Risks of “Teaching Yourself” to Surf?

Self-taught surfers face safety risks because they don't know what they don't know. Critical knowledge about rip currents, right of way, falling technique, head protection, and conditions assessment gets learned through trial and error—sometimes with serious consequences. 

Here are some of the main risks: 

• Drowning 

• Hitting self with board 

• Hitting others with board 

• Broken limbs 

• Sprains and dislocations 

• Concussion 

• Lacerations 

• Smashed on rocks or reef or manmade structures like jetties 

• Feelings of inadequacy or lower self worth 

• Real persecution by other surfers 

• Potential violent assault by other surfers  

These are also just the real risks of surfing more generally. When you go it on your own, you’re more susceptible to all of them. 

How to “Teach Yourself” to Surf More Effectively

If budget is a real constraint, don’t worry. You can still learn to surf from others and achieve success by doing these things: 

Study before you paddle out. “Figuring it out" doesn't have to mean going in blind. Learn to surf forecast (download my free PDF here). Read about ocean dynamics, wave formation, safety. Spend days at your local break watching waves and social dynamics. Where does everyone paddle out? Where do they sit? Who is nice? Who is mean? Watch videos of expert surfers just surfing. Prioritize videos that show them taking off and paddling into waves. Subscribe to my YouTube channel. 

Prioritize paddling and wave selection over standing. The temptation is to focus on standing up as quickly as possible. Resist. Spend early sessions paddling, watching waves, trying to understand patterns. Build the foundation even if no one is forcing you.

Learn safety before you need it. Understand rip currents, right of way, how to fall. Don't learn these by having something go wrong.

Stay humble and get feedback eventually. Even if you start on the cheap, consider getting a coaching session or video analysis later. Fresh eyes can identify problems you've normalized. Remember that you’re going to pay either in time, money, pain or all three anyway.

Ingratiate yourself to the better surfers at your break. This matters. All humans love a compliment, and it’s a good way to edge yourself into a local lineup. If there’s a group of heavy locals, bring them a 12 pack of beer one day. 

Is not “paying” coaches and instructors to help you Surf Worth It?

Learning to surf as an adult on the cheap is possible, but typically less efficient than learning with more formal guidance.

It really depends on what “worth it” means to you. Worth what? Years of slamming your face against the water learning bad habits that could have been nipped in the bud in your first few months of practice? Worth the money you feel you saved, but you really traded in poor decision making? Worth your sense of self as someone who never asks for or needs help? 

If you have access to a local lineup with a kinship structure in place, do try to “break into it.” If you can’t, then you’re better off seeking quality instruction—whether a good surf school or a coach—you'll learn faster, safer, and with fewer habits to unlearn. That's not weakness. That's intelligence.

The choice is yours. Just make it with your eyes open. Or book a Surf Journey Assessment Call with me, and I’ll help you see how far you have come and where you are capable of going next.

What Success in Learning to Surf Actually Looks Like

Getting good at surfing means you can paddle out at most breaks, catch unbroken waves consistently under your own power, ride them with control and fluidity, and make decisions in the lineup that reflect real ocean knowledge. It does not mean standing up once on a whitewater with someone pushing you. That's where most surf schools set the bar. It's the wrong bar — and where you set it determines everything about how fast you progress.

Most people who want to learn to surf measure success by whether they stood up — once, on a whitewater, with someone pushing them. That's a starting point, not an arrival. It tells you almost nothing about whether you're actually learning to surf. The bar matters because it shapes everything: what you practice, who you hire, what trips you take, and whether you know you're making progress or spinning your wheels. If your definition of success is too low, you'll plateau and not know why. If it's too high, you'll quit before you get there. Getting this right is one of the most important — and most overlooked — parts of learning to surf.

Why the Surf Industry Sets the Bar Too Low

Surf schools have an economic incentive to make you feel successful as quickly as possible. Standing up once equals a happy customer, a five-star review, and a story to tell at dinner. The industry has organized itself around that outcome. Nothing about it is designed to help you become a surfer. This isn't cynicism. It's just the structure of the transaction. The result is that a lot of people leave their first lesson thinking they've surfed when they've really just been pushed into a wave and reacted to it. That's fine as an experience. It's not fine as a learning outcome if you want surfing to be part of your life.

What a Meaningful Definition of Surfing Success Actually Looks Like

Athlete and artist Cristen Shea looks down the line and has nice crouching technique. This is success!

Here is my bar for what it means to have successfully learned to surf. It's medium-high by industry standards. I'd argue it's the minimum that makes surfing genuinely rewarding over the long term. A person has successfully learned to surf when they can do all of the following:

• Paddle out at most breaks and find waves regardless of crowd size.

• Stand up, draw a line, and ride the wave from start to finish in a graceful and fluid manner — especially on waves between two and six feet.

• Perform a basic repertoire of maneuvers: pumping, cutting back, floaters, head dips, kickouts.

• Compress and extend their body in response to what the wave and board are communicating.

• Ride boards of various sizes comfortably.

• Duck dive short to mid-length boards, and pick up a log when conditions call for it.

• Leave other surfers with a generally positive impression of sharing the water with them.

Every learning path — kinship structure, self-taught, surf school, coaching — can lead there. Those are the hallmarks to look for when someone tells you they surf. Anything less still counts as surfing, but I wouldn't call it a successful learning outcome. The goal of surfing is not just to stand on a board on a wave. It's to enter, ride, and exit waves in a smooth and graceful manner.

How Do You Know When You're Good at Surfing? What Each Stage Actually Looks Like

Success looks different depending on where you are. Here's what it looks like at each stage — and how to know when you've genuinely hit it.

Success as a Beginning Surfer

For a beginning surfer, success isn't standing up. Success is:

• Catching a wave under your own power and riding it in a controlled way.

• Choosing waves — not just reacting to them.

• Paddling out and back in safely.

• Understanding, even roughly, why some waves worked and others didn't.

The biggest marker at this stage: you caught something understandingly. You saw it coming, positioned for it, and went. That moment — when the wave lifts the tail of the board and you feel it take you — is the first real success in learning to surf. Everything else builds from there.

Success as an Advancing Beginner Surfer

At this stage, success means you've had the unlock. Specifically:

• You know what it feels like to look down the line as you take off.

• You know what a good wave looks like before you paddle for it.

• You've started to develop a feel for where to sit in the lineup and why.

• Your pop-up is one motion.

• You're no longer losing the tail on every wave.

• You're starting to put together rides that feel like surfing rather than surviving.

The key marker here is consistency, not perfection. You can replicate what works more often than not.

Success as an Intermediate Surfer

Success at the intermediate level is more about what you're working on than what you've achieved. You're successful here if:

• You're in the water consistently.

• You know your tendencies — the turns you're rushing, the waves you're misjudging, the habits you've normalized.

• Video is showing you things you couldn't feel.

• You're surfing with enough awareness to evaluate your own sessions honestly.

The clearest marker: you've seen yourself on video and it told you something true that you couldn't feel. That gap between how something feels and how it looks is where intermediate surfing lives. Closing it, even partially, is the work.

Success as an Advanced Surfer

You already know. The work at this level is refinement, specificity, and longevity:

• Going on a trip and scoring exactly the kind of surf you went for.

• Pulling off the maneuver you've been working on in the right conditions at the right moment.

• Surfing pain-free at 50.

• Still smiling at the takeoff.

The One Marker That Cuts Across All Levels

There is one marker of progress that applies everywhere, from your first wave to your thousandth session: looking down the line at the takeoff. Not over your shoulder. Not straight ahead at nothing. Down the line — at the lip, at where the wave is going, at the section you're setting up for. I can't write about this enough. It's the number one thing I work on with people at every level. When your eyes go down, your head goes down, your chest goes down, your knees disconnect from the tail, and the ride is either over or hanging by a thread. When your eyes are down the line, everything else has a chance to fall into place.

Once you catch a wave understandingly — looking down the line as you enter, feeling the wave lift and carry you, setting your line from that first moment — you can't unsee it. That's what successful learning feels like. Not the first time you stood up. That.

Why This Matters for How You Learn to Surf

The reason to be honest about what surfing success actually looks like isn't to raise the bar for its own sake. It's to protect you from learning paths that optimize for the wrong thing:

• A surf school that measures success by whether you stood up today is not helping you become a surfer.

• A self-taught approach that never gets external feedback will normalize your problems until they're invisible.

• A coach who tells you you're crushing it when you're patently not is wasting your time and money.

If you want to know where you actually are right now — and what the right next move is — the Surf Journey Assessment is a 45-minute call built for exactly that. And if you haven't taken the What Level Surfer Am I? self-assessment, start there.

How to Wax a Surfboard: A Surf Coach's Guide to Application, Removal, and Maintenance

Surfboard wax creates the traction that keeps you on your board while paddling and riding. Without it, you'll slide off. There are two types of surf wax — basecoat (hard, foundational) and topcoat (softer, temperature-specific) — and proper application requires building textured "bead" through circular motions rather than smearing. Match your topcoat to water temperature, wax before every session, and strip completely at least once a year or when changing climates.

Waxing a surfboard is about grip and traction. Wax can also signal a below average ability level. Show up with a smeared, patchy coat or a fancy pre-designed cross-hatch pattern and you'll broadcast "kook" to everyone within eyeshot. Show up with clean, well-beaded wax and that’s one social surfing bullet you won’t have to dodge.

For how to apply wax, there are two main schools of thought: cross-hatching vs circular beads. I'm on team circular bead — and Kelly Slater, in a recent episode of Stab in the Dark, confirmed he's a bead man too. Do we need another endorsement?

Beyond the cultural signaling, poor waxing cascades through every aspect of your surfing. Without grip you can't stay in place while paddling. A slippery deck makes you a liability in the lineup — you'll surf tentatively, grip with your toes (creating tension throughout your entire body), hesitate on takeoffs, and generally perform below your actual ability. I once sprained my MCL when my front foot slid off during a cutback. I hadn't waxed before that session. Even I have made those mistakes.

Why Do Surfers Wax Their Boards?

Before we get into the how, it's worth being clear about the why — because most beginners assume this is obvious, and most guides treat it like it is. It isn't.

The deck of a polyurethane or epoxy surfboard is completely smooth. Without any surface modification, you will slide right off — during the paddle, during the pop-up, during the ride itself. Surf wax builds up a textured layer of small bumps (called "bead") that your feet, hands, chest, and knees can grip. It's not just about standing; it's about being able to initiate movement, shift weight, and maintain contact through the entire arc of a wave.

There's also a subtler reason: wax gives you tactile feedback. When you know exactly where your feet are relative to the tail without looking down, you surf better. That spatial awareness — developed partly through the textured feel of the wax beneath your feet — is something coaches spend a long time teaching beginners to develop. Good wax helps. Bad wax (or no wax) actively impedes it.

A Brief History of Surf Wax

Before surf wax existed, surfers coated their wooden longboards with sand-infused varnish for traction — which worked, but also scraped their knees, chest, and thighs raw. In 1935, a teenager named Al Gallant came home from surfing at Palos Verdes Cove and walked across a living room floor his mother had just waxed. His feet almost stuck to the wood. The next morning he took the bottle of floor wax to the beach. His mother told him to use the household paraffin they sealed jam jars with instead. He did, it worked, and he waxed every board in the lineup. That's how it started.

For about 30 years, surfers simply used raw paraffin blocks from hardware stores. Dedicated surf wax formulas didn't hit the market until the early 1960s, when Surf Research launched Waxmate — colored, scented bars backed by Bob Hansen of Hansen Surfboards. When that company folded in 1972, two brands rushed to fill the gap. Frederick Herzog and chemist Nate Skinner founded Mr. Zog's Sex Wax in Santa Barbara, mixing paraffin, softening agents, and scent chemicals in a 50-gallon barrel with a boat propeller. They poured it into old soup cans as molds.

Meanwhile, Fu Wax was being developed in a garage in Brazil by the Mansur brothers, who were making their own wax because surf supplies simply didn't exist there in the 1960s. A lab accident — a raw material melting before its expected tipping point — produced a formula with extraordinary grip. Fuad Mansur tested it in the freezing waters of Patagonia, surfing until he collapsed with hypothermia and was hospitalized for two days. Brazilian pros reportedly kept Fu a secret from international competitors for decades. Kelly Slater didn't get his feet in it until 2011. Today, only three people in the world know the formula.

The core ingredients across the industry haven't changed dramatically. Surf wax is built on a base of paraffin, mixed with beeswax or other hard waxes, petroleum jelly for softness, and synthetic tackifiers for grip. The ratio of these ingredients creates the temperature range — harder blends for warmer water, softer for cold. Each company guards their exact formula, but the principle is the same.

Wax vs. Traction Pads: An Identity Choice

Modern polyurethane and epoxy boards need some form of traction. Your two options are wax and grip pads — and there are camps.

There's a purism to wax-only setups. The smell, the ritual of applying it before a session, the sound of proper circular waxing — it signals something about who you are as a surfer. Certain boards and riding styles don't pair well with traction pads: fishes, mid-lengths, eggs, logs, and most longboards — anything that reads pre-1980s. There's no rule against putting grip on these boards, but it's not common and will draw stares.

Then there's the full-traction camp. In the 1990s, Christian Fletcher — punk surfer and pioneer of aerial surfing — was unapologetically all grip, and his whole ethos was a middle finger to traditional norms. That approach made complete sense for what he was doing: traction pads give you a fixed, tactile reference point when you're launching airs and need to know exactly where your feet will land. Modern anti-heroes like Noah Deane often rock full-deck grip for the same reason. And then there are older guys on longboards who appreciate not waxing up before every session — also completely valid.

The most common setup for performance shortboards and hybrids is the combo: tail pad plus wax on the rest of the board. The tail pad gives you a tactile reference point so you know where the tail is without looking. I use them as a teaching tool on hybrids for exactly this reason — getting students to feel the tail of the board rather than search for it visually is a real coaching win.

And yes, some people wax their traction pads. This is mostly performance shortboarders looking for an extra degree of grip on the forefoot during airs — when you're landing back on the deck after a full rotation, even a pad can feel slippery. It's not a quirk; it's a specific functional choice.

The point is that traction is an aesthetic, practical, and identity choice all at once. But if you're reading this guide, you're probably waxing at least part of your board — so let's get into it.

Types of Surf Wax

Basecoat vs. Topcoat

Basecoat is the hardest wax formulation, designed to create the foundation layer that everything else adheres to. It bonds directly to your board's surface and provides structure for subsequent applications. Think of it as primer when painting a wall — it gives the topcoat something to grip. Almost all major brands (Sex Wax, Sticky Bumps, Mr. Zog's, etc.) manufacture a basecoat formula.

Topcoat — what most people just call "surf wax" — is softer and designed to build up the grippy beads that provide actual traction. It varies by water temperature because the ocean's temperature directly affects how the wax behaves.

Temperature-Specific Waxes

Wax manufacturers formulate their products for specific water temperature ranges, and using the wrong temperature wax can ruin your session:

• Cold water wax (below 58°F/14°C): Softest formulation for maximum grip in frigid conditions

• Cool water wax (58–68°F/14–20°C): Medium-soft for temperate zones

• Warm water wax (68–78°F/20–26°C): Medium firmness for tropical and summer conditions

• Tropical wax (above 78°F/26°C): Hardest topcoat to prevent melting in hot climates

The principle is simple: wax is harder for warmer water so it doesn't melt off the deck. Using cold water wax in warm conditions creates a melting mess; tropical wax in cold water stays rock-hard and slippery. Always match your wax to water temperature, not air temperature. In New York in July, water temps can still be lagging behind the air — check your buoy data, not the weather forecast.

How to Remove Wax from a Surfboard

If you're starting with an old board — whether one you've had for a while or a used board you just picked up — you may need to strip and start fresh before waxing. This section comes first because the order of operations matters: clean board, then fresh wax. Waxing over a compromised old coat doesn't fix the problem underneath.

When to Remove Your Wax

• At least once a year for regularly used boards — wax accumulates dirt, sand, and grime over time

• When traveling to warmer water — wait until you're in the warmer environment and let the sun soften the wax first

• When buying a used board — remove old wax to see what you're actually working with (dings, pressure dents, and repairs hide under dirty wax)

• Before ding repair — the board needs a clean surface

• When wax has melted in your car and rehardened into a goopy, dripping mess

Equipment You'll Need

A wax comb and a Pickle wax remover. That's it. Don't use credit cards, ice scrapers, box cutters, or razors — metal tools ding your surfboard. The Pickle is a nylon sock with foam dust that comes with its own wax comb. You can make your own with a nylon sock and fine pumice.

The Rough-and-Ready Method (Quick Temperature Change)

For when you need to quickly change wax temperature and don't have a Pickle.

Step 1: Place your board on a soft surface — towel, grass, not concrete or pebbles. Let direct sunlight soften the wax. Clear boards on moderate days take longer than dark boards on hot days. Test softness with the scraper end of your wax comb — it should be pliable but not dripping.

Step 2: Remove as much wax as possible using the flat scraper end of your wax comb. The comb end is for roughing up existing wax when you need texture without fresh wax. The curved end doesn't work for removal — use only the flat scraper.

Step 3: Collect shavings into a ball as you work. Don't let them spread everywhere or get under your board.

Step 4: Dispose of the wax ball in trash. Clean up any remaining dust or shavings in your work area. Leaving wax debris on someone's property reflects on your character, not your surfing ability.

The Proper Method (Annual Re-Wax or New-to-You Board)

Step 1: Same setup — soft surface, direct sunlight, appropriate timing for board color and conditions.

Step 2: Remove maximum wax with the flat scraper end of the comb. Dispose of the wax ball properly.

Step 3: Apply the Pickle like reverse waxing. Work the foam dust thoroughly over the entire board — you'll see film coming off in places you didn't expect. Use it on the nose, tail, rails, and bottom, especially if you use board socks. The board will look shiny afterward and reveal pressure dings previously hidden under grime.

Step 4: Remove any remaining Pickle dust with a towel or paper towel. Windex works for a truly pristine finish.

The Critical Temperature Rule for Removal

When returning from a tropical surf trip to cold water, you do NOT need to remove your wax first. You can put cold water wax directly over a tropical base layer. However, you cannot put tropical wax over cold water wax — the harder formula will peel the softer wax right off. Going from warm to cold: wax straight over. Going from cold to warm: strip and start fresh.

Removal Mistakes to Avoid

Don't skip scraping first — if you don't remove enough with the comb, the Pickle step becomes much harder. Don't let the wax get so hot it drips like a candle. And never use metal tools on your board.

How to Wax a Surfboard: Step by Step

With a clean board ready, here's how to wax it properly.

Setting Up Your Basecoat

For a fresh, clean board — whether polyurethane or epoxy — start with basecoat. One bar is more than enough for any size surfboard.

Step 1: Prepare your workspace. Find a shady spot where you can lay your board deck-up without risk of dings. A board rack is ideal; a towel on a hard surface works fine. Avoid direct sunlight — you're working against yourself if the wax is melting as you apply it. It's perfectly normal (and practical) to do your first basecoat at home, in the parking lot, or anywhere out of the sun.

Step 2: Clean the board. Wipe off any dust, sand, or debris. Wax won't adhere properly to a dirty surface.

Step 3: Begin application. Using the edge of your wax bar, start just in front of the leash plug at the tail. Make large, relatively fast circular motions.

Step 4: Work the surface. You'll feel the wax drag and catch on the slick surface initially — this is normal. You should start seeing a film appear. If you're struggling to get any purchase at all, make a few horizontal and vertical strokes to lay down a thin film first. Once there's minimal wax on the surface, the circles become much easier.

Step 5: Build the bead. Stick with those large, fast circles. You should see small bumps forming on the deck — this textured surface is exactly what you're after. It's what provides actual traction.

Step 6: Cover the riding area. Continue until you've covered the appropriate section of the board. See below for how much to wax by board type.

Step 7: Check for evenness. Make sure coverage is consistent across the entire waxed area. Any sections that are still just filmy need more circles. Run your hand across the waxed area — it should feel evenly textured with tackiness. If it slides smoothly, you need more coverage.

Adding Your Topcoat

Topcoat application follows the same technique but will feel easier since you're working over the basecoat foundation. Start at the tail and repeat those large, fast circular motions with your temperature-appropriate topcoat over the entire waxed area. Once covered, you're ready to surf.

How Much of the Board to Wax (by Board Type)

This is where most guides give you a single generic answer. The actual answer depends on the board you're riding.

Beginner fun boards and hybrids (7'0"–8'6"): Wax three-quarters of the board, or the whole thing. You won't walk to the nose on one of these, but waxing all the way up costs nothing and gives you flexibility as you progress. Wax all the way to the rails — your hands go there during paddling and pop-ups.

Longboards (8'0" and up): Wax the entire board, nose to tail. Part of this is functional — if you're learning to nose ride, you need wax up there. Part of it is aesthetic — a longboard with wax only halfway up just looks wrong. It signals that you're not really surfing the whole board, which on a log, you should be.

Shortboards: Three-quarters to seven-eighths of the board, depending on your surfing. If you're doing airs and need foot placement on the very tail, go further back. If you're not doing airs, stopping at three-quarters is fine. Don't wax past the leash plug — there's no surfing happening back there.

Fishes: Same range as shortboards — three-quarters to seven-eighths. Some surfers wax the full fish, which is fine on a standard fish shape, but waxing up to each tail triangle on a swallow tail usually looks odd. But if you have a strong argument that the board actually does like to be surfed with your feet that far back, it’s valid.

Mid-lengths (6’3"-7’6” relatively retro shapes): Wax the whole board. Mid-lengths are designed to be surfed from multiple positions, and restricting your wax restricts your movement. You want the full deck available.

Don't forget to push your wax job to the rails in every case. Your hands grab the rail on every pop-up and every duck dive. A slippery rail will telegraph straight to your takeoff.

Wax Technique: Circles, Sound, and Pressure

The method I prefer — and have used for 30 years — is large circular motions from the start. I never cross-hatch. The key is not pressing too hard; heavy pressure smears the wax rather than building bead. The circular motions should create a distinctive sound that will signal to anyone within earshot that you know what you're doing.

Cross-hatching can help if the wax isn't going on — it creates initial surface texture that makes the circles easier to establish. But stopping there, with an elaborate cross-hatch design, signals kook. Surfing is fundamentally about circular fluidity rather than horizontal and vertical angularity. Find the flow.

A Note on Sticky Wax Layering

Speaking of Kelly Slater — in that same Stab in the Dark episode, he described his personal method as a three-layer system: basecoat first, then a super-sticky wax like Fu Wax, then a medium or harder wax on top to "seal in" the stickier layer underneath. The logic is that the Fu provides extreme grip while the top layer protects it from wearing off too fast.

I've never tried this method, but the man has 11 world titles and a reputation for being meticulous about his equipment. If you want your feet to feel genuinely locked in, it might be worth experimenting with.

My personal preference is simpler: basecoat, then whatever temperature-appropriate topcoat is called for, nothing overly sticky. I don't do airs. I don't want to slip, but I also don't want wax transferring all over my wetsuit and leg hair every session. Clean, functional grip is the goal — not being glued to the board.

How to Wax a Foam Surfboard

Some foam boards need wax, and some don't. Check yours first — if it has a textured or padded surface, additional wax might actually make it slippery. If it has a smooth foam surface, you'll likely need wax.

When you do wax a foamie: skip the basecoat (foam surfaces don't need it, and basecoat can make the surface too slick), use minimal topcoat with very light pressure, and test as you go — some foams become extremely grippy with just a little wax.

One critical thing: if you wax a soft top, you commit to never removing that wax. Wax sinks into the porous foam surface and doesn't come off. The removal methods above apply to polyurethane and epoxy boards only.

Common Wax Mistakes

Not waxing all the way to the rails. Your hands go there during paddling and pop-ups. This is one of the most common beginner errors.

Using the wrong temperature wax. Cold water wax in warm conditions melts into a mess. Warm water wax in cold conditions stays too hard to grip. The mismatch is more impactful than most people realize.

Applying too much pressure. Heavy pressure smears the wax. You're building bead, not coloring in a crayon.

Skipping basecoat. Especially with cold water wax, which is soft and prone to smearing without a solid foundation underneath.

Mixing wax temperatures incorrectly. Never put warm water wax over cold water wax — the harder formula will peel the softer wax right off. Cold over warm is fine.

Waxing the bottom of your board. I call this a "republican wax job" because republicans do everything wrong (at least in America). Use a Pickle or wax remover to fix it.

Waxing on rocks or pebbles. You'll ding the bottom. Wax on a towel, your board bag, or in sand wax-side up.

Waxing after you surf instead of before. No one does this. Wax before the session.

Showing up with no wax at all. It happens. Don't let it happen to you.

Sand and Sun: The Two Enemies of a Good Wax Job

Sand gets into everything. Don't drop your wax bar in the sand, don't bring your board home caked in it, and don't place it wax-side down in the sand before you surf (after surfing is fine). Rinse the sand off in the whitewater as you paddle out, and rinse again before heading back to your car. Sand in the wax is a mess and a slow-motion ding delivery system.

Sun melts wax of every temperature. Do not leave your board wax-side up on the beach, in your car, or in direct sun. I've seen people set their board down to buy a coconut and return to find the wax has melted all the way off the deck and dripped over the rails. If your board or wax bar gets too hot, dip it in the water to harden up before you start your wax job.

Wax Maintenance Between Sessions

Light touch-ups before each session are all you need most of the time — a few circular passes with your topcoat to refresh tackiness. I personally do a full wax change only one or two times a year, primarily for temperature reasons (stripping winter wax in late June to go fresh with tropical, then back in the fall).

Wax combs: I never use the comb end during normal maintenance. It's a rescue tool for desperate moments when you need more grip but have no fresh wax — you can rough up the existing surface with the comb to add temporary traction. Otherwise, use the flat scraper side when removing old wax. Store your board somewhere cool and shaded between sessions.

Wax On, Wax off

Waxing is simple in concept but crucial in execution. Beyond the functional necessity, knowing how to wax properly — the right temperature, the right technique, the right amount for your board type — demonstrates a command of the basics that the lineup will notice. It's also an essential travel skill: every surf trip you take will involve at least one wax decision. Whether you're surfing Rockaway in January or Costa Rica in July, understanding the full wax lifecycle means one fewer thing standing between you and a good session.

Have questions about waxing, equipment, or surf technique? The Dr. Dion's Surf Secrets zine covers this and a lot more, delivered weekly. Or book a Surf Journey Assessment to get personalized coaching advice.

Videos to help you out

What Level Surfer Am I? An Honest Self-Assessment

Most surfers overestimate their level. Not because they're delusional, but because surfing culture doesn't have honest checkpoints. You've been surfing for three years, you stand up most of the time, people haven't screamed at you in a while — that feels like progress. Sometimes it is. Sometimes you've just gotten comfortable with a ceiling.

This guide gives you real behavioral markers, not flattery. It's designed to help you figure out what path actually makes sense for where you are — a surf school, a coach, a trip, more solo sessions, or something else entirely. Read it honestly. The only person you're fooling otherwise is yourself.

Want the full assessment with self-scoring checklist? Download the PDF here.

A Note Before You Start

There is no bad level. Pre-beginner is a completely legitimate place to be. Fear of big waves, or preferring to avoid crowds, tells you nothing about your skill — those are matters of temperament, not competence. A reckless beginner and a seasoned expert can both paddle out at an overhead reef break. Only one of them should. The goal of this assessment isn't to rank you. It's to help you know yourself in the water — which, if you've spent any time with philosophy, you'll recognize as the oldest and hardest question there is.

A note for returning surfers: if you surfed seriously as a kid or young adult and are picking it back up, your level depends heavily on current fitness and how much muscle memory has survived.

• If you haven't kept up your fitness, start at beginner — the ocean doesn't care about your history, your paddling endurance does.

• If you used to compete or were genuinely competent, you're probably still intermediate or expert, just deconditioned. Get in shape and the skills will resurface faster than you expect.

• If you really struggle with consistency but fear is not an issue, you can go up one level from where you'd otherwise land.

• If you categorically don't like larger waves but have a solid repertoire, you're an advanced beginner or intermediate who just doesn't want to surf big waves. That's a preference, not a skill deficit.

The Five Domains of Honest Self-Assessment

Look at each domain and mark where you land. Be specific. "Sometimes" usually means no.

1. Ocean Knowledge and Safety

Signs you have it:

• You can identify a rip current from shore before paddling out.

• You know what conditions are appropriate for your skill level and choose accordingly.

• You understand right-of-way in the lineup and consistently follow it.

• You know how to fall safely and protect your head.

Honest flags:

• You go because Surfline says "good" without checking the actual conditions.

• You've been in situations you couldn't handle and didn't see them coming.

• You're unsure what to do when someone drops in on you or you drop in on someone.

2. Paddling

Signs you have it:

• You can paddle for 60–90 minutes in moderate conditions without being gassed.

• Your lower body is engaged and streamlined — not dragging like dead weight.

• You can paddle into position and maneuver your board before a wave arrives.

• You catch waves under your own power without needing to be pushed.

Honest flags:

• You rely on instructors or friends to push you into waves.

• You're exhausted within 30 minutes and spend most of the session sitting.

• Your arms are doing all the work while your lower body sinks.

3. Wave Reading and Judgment

Signs you have it:

• You watch waves from shore for at least 5 minutes before paddling out.

• You can identify which peaks are breaking well before you paddle to them.

• You read other surfers' positioning to inform your own decisions.

• You've developed a feel for timing — when to commit, when to wait.

Honest flags:

• You paddle out and immediately start trying to catch whatever comes.

• You consistently misjudge waves — too early, too late, wrong section.

• You don't understand surf forecasts and don't use them.

4. Technical Skills

Signs you have it:

• Your pop-up is one fluid motion — not two stages, not a cobra push-up.

• You look down the line through your takeoff, not over your shoulder.

• You can perform consistent turns and clean kickouts.

• You've been told — unprompted — that you look good on a wave.

Honest flags:

• You're still working out the pop-up mechanics on every single wave.

• You've never seen footage of yourself surfing and compared it to how it felt.

• You pearl regularly.

5. Lineup Ethics and Self-Awareness

Signs you have it:

• You sit in the right place for your skill level, not just the best peak.

• You don't take waves you're not ready for.

• You're aware of how your surfing affects others in the water.

• You can honestly evaluate a session — what worked, what didn't, why.

Honest flags:

• You go for every wave regardless of who's deeper.

• You've been yelled at more than once for the same thing.

• You struggle to identify what you're actually doing wrong.

Where did most of your checks land? Mostly in the positive columns across all five domains? Or are there whole domains where you're checking mostly flags? The answer tells you your level — and your next move.

What the Levels Actually Look Like

Find the description where most of your domain checks landed. Read the whole thing, including what is not in your level.

Pre-Beginner

You're probably here if:

• You haven't surfed yet, or have only been pushed into whitewater once or twice.

• You're still building comfort and confidence in the ocean.

• You don't yet know how to identify rip currents or read basic conditions.

You're probably not here if you own a board and surf regularly — that puts you at beginner or above.

Beginner

You're probably here if:

• You can stand up in whitewater with reasonable consistency.

• You're starting to catch unbroken waves — sometimes under your own power.

• You're developing a feel for paddling, though technique needs work.

You're probably not here if you consistently read waves or pick good ones independently, or if you know where to sit in a lineup and how to navigate a crowd.

Advancing Beginner

You're probably here if:

• You're catching unbroken waves consistently under your own power.

• Your pop-up is mostly clean, though still working on fluidity.

• You have a developing repertoire of maneuvers.

• You consistently see the line of entry on the wave.

You're probably not here if:

• You're pearling more often than not — that's beginner.

• You can't ride on the wall of waves at will — that's beginner.

• You don't know how to control the tail of the surfboard — that's beginner.

• You're flowing between maneuvers with ease — that's expert.

Intermediate

You're probably here if:

• You're catching unbroken waves consistently and paddling out alone at familiar breaks.

• You have a small repertoire of moves but struggle to replicate them on demand.

• Your timing is inconsistent — sometimes perfect, sometimes baffling.

• You've seen yourself on video and wanted to quit surfing immediately.

You're probably not here if you're still pearling regularly (closer to advancing beginner) or flowing gracefully between multiple maneuvers (that's expert territory).

Advanced / Expert

You're probably here if:

• You're flowing gracefully between a wide variety of maneuvers.

• Your surfing is confirmed by peers, photos, and video — the surfing talks.

• You're comfortable across a wide array of styles and conditions.

• You know exactly what you're working on and why.

• You understand your limits — and chose them deliberately, not out of fear.

You're probably not here if you have no peers who can vouch for your surfing and no footage to show. Some experts hate cameras — that's fine — but someone should be able to say "she rips." It's also worth being honest that expertise outside the kinship structure is rare. Learning to surf as an adult and reaching genuine expert level happens, but it's the exception, not the rule.

What to Do With This

Wherever you landed, the next move is the same: be honest about it and act accordingly. The surfers who progress fastest aren't the most talented. They're the ones who know exactly where they are and make decisions from that place — what conditions to surf, what board to ride, whether to hire help, and when to push their comfort zone versus when to pull back.

Download the full PDF assessment for the complete self-scoring checklist and resource guide by level.

If you want to go deeper — what path makes sense for your level, what a coaching relationship actually looks like, or how to plan a trip that matches where you are — the Surf Journey Assessment is a 45-minute call designed exactly for that. And if you haven't read The Four Paths Into Surfing, start there — it's the foundation everything else builds on.