River Surfing is the New Skiing (right?)

Photo: Myke Hermsmeyer

When the snow starts flying, it seems most mountain runners in the Rocky Mountain west swap out shoes for skis and take to the mountains for some uphill and downhill exertion. That makes sense. But the problem is, I don’t ski. It was late December, snow swirled around me, and instead of standing on a mountain strapped into skis, I stood soaking wet on a submerged rock at the edge of a river with a surfboard tucked under my arm. My friends shouted a few whoops of joy as the snow intensified and I couldn’t help but crack a big smile. 

I leapt off the rock through the falling snow into the river. I landed on my belly on my board and slid across the face of a standing wave. I stood up on my small foam board and started carving as the water pulsed under me. The snow thickened in the air as I looked down at the water flying under my feet. The rocks of the river bottom below shimmered through the frigid crystalline water. The air temperature was below freezing, but I was wrapped in a suit of thick neoprene and felt warm…enough. The surfer’s left side of the wave surged and I made a turn towards the lip, popping out of the water for a second as the wave came crashing back down. I rode for well over a minute, my legs starting to quiver from the sustained squat I had to hold. Muscles failing, I soon fell and my body disappeared underneath the dark surface of the water. I popped up gasping for icy air and swam as fast as I could for the rocky shoreline, bobbing up and down in the foamy rapid.

The first snow we got this year was at the end of September. I’ve managed to go surfing 25 times in the four months since then. My roommates make fun of me, because my days off from work keep playing out the same way: long run in the morning, eat a big brunch, then drive 35 minutes to the river. I’d surf for a few hours before swooping back to town, do my grocery shopping for the week while sopping wet and shivering, then dinner and bed. I would inevitably fail to leave time for laundry (oh well). 

Photo: Myke Hermsmeyer

Sometimes it feels slightly irrational to go river surfing after running a marathon a few hours beforehand. But the joy the activity brings me is always worth the extra effort. Surfing gives me a way to get out of town and play outside while putting a big stupid grin on my face. I’ve started to think of it as a fabulously fun form of cross training. I often find myself alone at the wave, standing waist deep in the water, air temp in the 20s, laughing my head off. You would think that after surfing through a Montana winter, I would get used to the ridiculousness of the activity. Even still, I find it rather funny to be pulling myself out of the water onto ice-covered rocks in sub-freezing temps. Objectively, river surfing in the dead of winter probably seems like a bad idea. Perhaps skiing does make more sense as a wintertime cross training activity. That’s probably true, but at least for this year, river surfing won out as my winter sport of choice. Pretty sure river surfing is the new skiing.

Photo: Myke Hermsmeyer