From Curious to Carving: How Panama Taught Me to Surf
The Accidental Surfer: My Unplanned Entry into the Waves
When I first touched down in Panama, surfing wasn’t anywhere on my radar. I had visions of lazy beach days, ceviche-fueled sunsets, and maybe a gentle jungle hike if the mood struck. My “adventure” plans were more about hammocks than adrenaline. Surfing? That was something other people did—cooler people with better balance and bolder attitudes.
But Panama, as I quickly discovered, has a way of rewriting your plans.
It was a quiet morning in Playa Venao. I had wandered down to the beach to clear my head and ended up mesmerized by the surfers dancing along the waves. There was something hypnotic about the way they carved through water with such ease—like they were in on a secret rhythm the rest of us hadn’t learned yet.
Nearby, a tattered surf shack buzzed with life. Boards of all shapes leaned casually against the walls, and the scent of wax and sea salt lingered in the air. I paused. I watched. And then, on a strange whim—or maybe just the magnetic pull of curiosity—I walked over and said the words I never expected to:
“Do you have a beginner board?”
The guy behind the counter, deeply tanned with a sun-creased smile, sized me up with a chuckle. “You’ve never surfed before?”
“Not once.”
“You’re gonna fall. A lot. But you’ll love it.”
Challenge accepted.
First Time on the Wave: A Humbling Comedy
My first attempt at surfing was, in short, a total disaster.
Imagine trying to stand on a bar of soap while a giant hand repeatedly slaps it out from under you. That was me, flailing around in the whitewash, paddling like a toddler learning to swim. I was winded within minutes, saltwater in every pore, and laughing way too hard for someone getting tossed around by ankle-high waves.
But something strange happened between the wipeouts: I couldn’t stop trying.
Every crash into the foam came with a quick regroup. I paddled back out, chest burning, heart pounding, determined to catch just one clean ride. And eventually—miraculously—I did. For a glorious five seconds, I stood. Wobbly? Sure. Shaky? Absolutely. But upright, riding a small wave that felt like a tidal surge beneath my feet.
That fleeting moment was all it took. I was hooked.

Why Panama Is a Beginner Surfer’s Dream
I’ve often thought that if I’d learned to surf anywhere else, I might’ve given up. But Panama? It’s a paradise for rookies.
Warm water meant every fall felt like a dip, not a punishment. The beach breaks—especially in places like Playa Venao and Santa Catalina—offered gentle, forgiving waves ideal for learners. There was no pressure, no judgment. Just sunshine, surf, and the welcoming energy of a community that seemed genuinely stoked to share the stoke.
The locals were kind, patient, and endlessly encouraging. One instructor told me, “Surfing’s not about being good—it’s about showing up.” That stuck with me. Especially when the learning curve felt more like a learning cliff.
And the views? Unreal. Surfing into a sunset while scarlet macaws cry overhead, or catching your breath on your board as pelicans skim the waves—Panama is more than just a surf spot. It’s a sensory overload in the best way possible.
Learning the Dance: From Wipeouts to Waves
My second surf session was marginally better than the first. I learned to read the waves, to time my paddle, to pop up faster. I learned the hard way that hesitation leads to wipeouts and that commitment, even if clumsy, gets rewarded.
There were small wins: cleaner pop-ups, longer rides, fewer face-plants. And slowly, the board started to feel less like a foreign object and more like an extension of me.
Here’s what helped most:
✔ Watching the horizon, not my feet. Focus on where you’re going, not where you are.
✔ Timing is everything. Paddle too early, you miss the wave. Too late, and the wave swallows you.
✔ Keep paddling, even when you think you’ve got it. Momentum is your friend.
✔ Laugh. A lot. Surfing is supposed to be fun—never forget that.
Beyond the Break: Encounters & Epiphanies
Some of the most memorable moments in Panama didn’t happen during the rides, but in the quiet spaces between them—the in-betweens where the magic hides.
Like drifting in the lull between sets, lying flat on my board, watching the clouds roll lazily across a sky so intensely blue it almost looked edited. The sun warm on my back, the salt drying on my skin, the sound of the ocean gently rising and falling beneath me—it was pure presence, the kind you can’t fake or force. It’s in those still moments that surfing becomes more than a sport—it becomes a conversation between you and the sea.
And then there were the people. Strangers became instant surf buddies, bonded over shared stoke and sand-covered grins. I chatted with old souls who’d surfed these shores since before WiFi existed, and wide-eyed backpackers taking their first lesson after a night of hostel beers. Locals who’d grown up chasing these waves offered not just technique tips, but bits of life philosophy. “You gotta wipe out a hundred times before you feel your first real ride,” one guy told me. “Kinda like love, right?”
One day, I shared a wave with a 10-year-old local kid—barefoot, sun-bleached curls, and the confidence of someone born in the water. He cruised down the line like a mini Kelly Slater while I nose-dived straight into the foam. Popping up sputtering, I half-laughed, half-coughed. He paddled over, held out a hand for a high-five, and said, “You’re getting better!” Like we were old friends on a daily surf check.
Then there was the dawn paddle. The sky still soft with early light, the beach empty, the ocean calm—until a swell began to rise. As I paddled out, shapes moved just beneath the surface. Three dolphins surfaced just feet away, effortlessly catching the same wave I was struggling to reach. For a moment, it felt like time slowed. Their grace was humbling. I stopped paddling, mesmerized, heart thudding in disbelief. They arched and glided like they’d rehearsed it for me. No roar. No splash. Just the quiet welcome of wild beauty.
It felt like nature’s way of saying, “You belong here, too.”
These are the moments that stick. Not the perfect rides or epic wipeouts, but the connections—in the water, with others, with yourself. Panama gave me those in-between gifts: clarity, wonder, and the reminder that sometimes, the most powerful waves aren’t the ones you ride, but the ones that rise inside you when everything else slows down.

Surfing as Solitude, Surfing as Mindfulness
There’s a moment in surfing—right before the wave rises behind you—when the world narrows into something beautifully simple. The noise fades. The horizon sharpens. The water beneath your board flattens for a heartbeat. And in that fragile space between stillness and motion, everything goes quiet.
It’s just you, the ocean, and the subtle electricity of anticipation—the sense that something powerful is about to lift you, test you, maybe even toss you, but it’s coming. That moment became my meditation. Not in the traditional sense, with closed eyes and crossed legs, but in a deeper, more visceral way. It demanded everything: attention, breath, trust.
No phone buzzing. No email reminders. No conversations looping in my head. Just breath, board, and ocean. The only thing to focus on was the timing of the wave and the readiness of my body. And in that commitment to the present moment, I found an unexpected kind of peace.
Surfing stripped away the background noise of daily life—the constant hum of anxiety, expectation, and overthinking. It left me with the bare essentials: balance, breath, and instinct. It didn’t care about my plans, my insecurities, or my productivity. The ocean didn’t ask me to perform—it just asked me to show up and listen.
That stillness, oddly enough, came in motion. While paddling hard to catch a set, while adjusting my stance mid-ride, even while tumbling underwater and surfacing with salt in my lungs—it was all part of the same mindful rhythm. Surfing forced me into flow, into presence, and it rewarded me when I stopped trying to control everything.
The ocean became a kind of teacher. One that reminded me that silence isn’t something you find; it’s something you fall into when you let go. And surfing, more than anything else, showed me how to let go.
What Started as a One-Time Try…
…turned into a ritual. What started as a one-time, spur-of-the-moment rental became something I craved—something I built my days around. I began chasing waves across Panama, hungry for more of that feeling. From the slow, rolling peelers at Playa Morrillo to the faster, punchier surf of Cambutal, each spot revealed a different side of the ocean—and a different side of myself.
Morrillo taught me patience. Long waits between sets, soft mornings where the sun rose slowly behind glassy waves. Cambutal, on the other hand, demanded grit. Hollow peaks, shifting tides, and a lineup that didn’t hand out easy rides. Each beach came with its own rhythm, its own rules. I had to learn how to read the water again and again.
With every new break, there were new faces too—fellow surfers with sun-worn smiles, old souls who spoke fluent ocean, travelers with stories that mirrored my own. We’d swap tips between sets, share beers after sunset, and bond over bruises and breakthroughs.
Some days I barely stood up—fighting currents, mistiming takeoffs, questioning if I’d learned anything at all. Other days, everything clicked. My timing felt sharp, my paddling strong, and the drop into a clean face felt like flying. On those days, I’d ride a wave all the way to shore, heart pounding, laughter echoing above the crash of the surf.
But no matter how each session went—whether it ended in triumph or total wipeout—I always walked away with something. A sharper instinct. A little more balance. A deeper respect for the sea. Surfing gave me the kind of progress you feel in your bones, not on a scoreboard.
Now, it’s no longer a novelty. It’s part of me—woven into the fabric of my routine, my mindset, my identity. The ocean is where I go to reset, to reconnect, to remember that life is best lived in motion, in rhythm, and just slightly outside your comfort zone.
Why You Should Try Surfing in Panama
Panama offers some of the best conditions for surfers of all levels, making it the perfect place to hit the waves. Here’s why:
Warm Water Year-Round: The tropical climate ensures that the water stays warm all year long, which means you can surf in boardshorts or bikinis without the need for a wetsuit. The warm waters also create ideal conditions for learning, with gentle waves that make the sport more accessible and enjoyable for beginners.
Beginner-Friendly Spots: Whether you’re picking up a board for the first time or honing your skills, Panama has plenty of mellow beach breaks that cater to beginners. Many surf schools offer lessons designed for all levels, with experienced instructors who genuinely want to see you succeed. They’ll guide you on everything from paddling to catching your first wave, helping you build confidence and technique in a safe and supportive environment.
Adventure-Ready Coastline: Once you get your feet wet and start feeling more confident, Panama will reward you with even more variety. The coastline stretches for miles, offering diverse surf spots like reef breaks, point breaks, and secluded hidden gems that promise to keep your surfing journey exciting. Whether you want to ride big waves or explore undiscovered surf spots, Panama has a little bit of everything.
Culture & Community: Panama’s surf towns are as welcoming as the waves. The laid-back atmosphere is filled with locals and travelers who share a love for the ocean. You’ll find surf shops, cozy cafes, and beachside restaurants where you can connect with like-minded surfers and soak in the good vibes. Whether you’re sharing surf stories, savoring delicious local food, or simply chilling on the beach, the community here will make you feel right at home.
Start Your Adventure: Begin your surf journey at popular spots like Playa Venao or El Palmar, where you can rent a board, book a lesson, or just chat with the locals. Let the ocean teach you its rhythm and humbling power, and experience the thrill of riding your first wave. Whether you’re in it for the adventure or the pure love of the sport, Panama’s surf culture will uplift and inspire you every step of the way.

Final Thoughts: My Surf Story in Panama
I never meant to become a surfer.
But Panama had other plans. What started as a random rental turned into something transformative. Surfing gave me confidence, clarity, and a connection to nature I didn’t know I was missing.
If you’ve ever thought about surfing—really thought about it—let this be your sign.
Try it. Fall a few times. Laugh a lot. And if you’re lucky, you might just catch a wave that changes everything.