ELVIS is alive! And he’s a surfing instructor in Mayo.
Or at least he tried to teach me surfing. It’s not his teaching credentials that were problematic - he was great, and even told me I was great - but I spent more time underwater than surfing the waves, so I’m pretty sure he was telling a few white lies.
I had visions of that scene in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, where Peter is learning how to surf in Hawaii: that was going to be me. It was going to be brilliant.
And it was brilliant, just not as successful as I’d imagined. The sun was absolutely splitting the pebbles on Carrowinsky Strand. A few corrugated iron portaloos and a makeshift shower greeted us, along with several experienced and well-weathered surfer dudes.
We found Elvis knee-deep in wetsuits in the back of a well-stocked grey van (sadly, not a colourful VW as I’d imagined all surfers drive). Introductions out of the way, we were given our equipment and off we ambled to get suited and booted for our baptism by water ... very cold water.
The better half and I were joined on our early morning session by a nurse called Aine and a teacher called Jessica. We were all newbies to the ways of the water, thank God; I wasn’t going to be alone in my lack of any kind of skill.
After a brief intro into the world of surfing and the various different techniques, we were let loose on the waves, of which there were plenty, and they were big too, and that’s when all hell broke loose.
I almost killed Aine when I caught my first wave and ploughed straight for her head. Thankfully, quick flip to the left and I was off the board and all fatalities were avoided.
I got much better after that though. I would even go so far as to say I owned that board. But then, of course, Elvis threw me a curveball and brought us back to dry land to teach the finer points of surfing, that is, actually standing on the board.
Alas, my surfing prowess went downhill from here.
Let’s just say I didn’t quite master the standing. I was average at even getting onto my knees on the board. Without doubt, I swallowed about five times my recommended daily intake of salt.
But it was all worth it. I managed to make it into a standing/crouching position on the board on two occasions. Sadly they were both short-lived.
At the end of our two-hour session with Surf Mayo Elvis, came the hardest task of all - how to get out of a wetsuit after two hours in the freezing cold Atlantic Ocean.
Rolling around on the ground trying to wrestle your foot free from a cold, wet bootie is not glamorous.
Having worked up a very significant appetite, the pair of us retreated along the bendy coastal roads to Westport for some much-needed grub.
The scenery was fantastic and the weather was certainly not Irish. If we got a summer of sunshine, there’d be no need to go abroad: Ireland definitely has some gems worth discovering.
Like the Thermal Suite in Spa Sula at the Castlecourt Hotel, Westport. Perfect for relaxing after our morning exertions, we thought, as we retreated for some pampering.
With a foot spa, sauna, steam room and outdoor rock pool on offer, we were spoilt for choice when it came to unwinding after our morning’s exertions.
We relaxed under sprays of minty salt water in the salt grotto - who even thinks of these treatments? An hour and a half later, we emerged refreshed from the thermal suite.
Elvis had kindly warned us about the pain that would inevitably follow our surfing excursions. That evening we understood what he meant.
I had pain in places I didn’t even realise I had muscles. Flipping the page on the map elicited a groan every time (and not as a result of my bad map-reading skills, though that had gotten me in trouble on the outward journey!). And walking was done at a very slow and steady pace; I have now perfected the shuffle.
It was well worth it, though. The weather was phenomenal and the scenery was breathtaking. The Castlecourt Hotel was stunning and the staff were brilliant. I may not be the surfing pro I’d hoped for, but I’m getting there, one small leaping movement at a time.
I’m off to practice my kneel and crouch technique, all I need now is a surfboard ... an ironing board will suffice.