Awakening: Surfing with Dolphins and Other Aquatic Shenanigans in Port Elizabeth
Spring has arrived in Port Elizabeth, which means the surf school has officially emerged from its winter hibernation—a period marked by suspiciously few surfboards and an alarming number of tea breaks. The ocean, having spent the last few months sulking in cold silence, has finally decided to be interesting again.
Enter Rafael: a wide-eyed German backpacker with the enthusiasm of a Labrador and the surfing experience of a potato. He was staying at Riverfront Backpackers, a place so close to the river you can hear the water judging your life choices. Rafael had never surfed before, which made him the perfect candidate for my patented “Push and Pray” method of instruction. The goal was simple: catch waves. Standing up was considered an advanced maneuver, like juggling chainsaws or understanding South African tax law.
I pushed him into eight waves. He survived all eight, which statistically makes him a surfing prodigy.
And then—cue dramatic music—something extraordinary happened.
About 100 meters offshore, a pod of dolphins appeared. Not just one or two, mind you, but a whole aquatic committee. They were clicking and whistling like underwater jazz musicians, and I swear one of them winked at me. We paddled out, because obviously when dolphins invite you to hang out, you don’t RSVP with “maybe.”
For nearly an hour, we free-dived among them. It was like being in a David Attenborough documentary, except with more flailing and less narration. We heard their sonar symphony, felt their sleek bodies glide past, and yes—caught their scent. Dolphins, it turns out, smell faintly of optimism and seaweed.
It was intimate, wild, and deeply moving. Rafael looked at me with the kind of expression usually reserved for people who’ve just seen a unicorn tap dance. This was not a surf lesson. This was a spiritual awakening with fins.
And just when we thought the universe had exhausted its supply of magic, a whale appeared. A whale. On our walk back. Because apparently Port Elizabeth is where marine life goes to show off. That was about my 20th such encounter in two years, which statistically makes me either very lucky or secretly Aquaman.
As a surf instructor and tour guide, I live for these moments—the kind that turn a trip into a tale, a lesson into legend. Today was one of those days. Rafael will probably tell this story at dinner parties for the rest of his life, and I’ll nod sagely like a man who’s seen things.
If you’re craving a surf experience that’s raw, real, and occasionally involves cetaceans, come find me at Crowdless.co.za. I specialize in small-group, wildlife-friendly lessons that go beyond the board and occasionally into the realm of myth. And if you’re passing through PE, stay at Riverfront Backpackers—where the adventure begins somewhere between the kettle and the wetsuits.
Spring is here. The dolphins are waiting. Let’s paddle out.
Oh, and the next morning? We went stand-up paddling at another beach around 7am and—because the dolphins apparently have a group chat—had yet another mind-boggling encounter. I’m starting to think they’re following me.
So grateful.
A thousand salty thank-yous to Rafael, who—despite surviving rogue waves and the existential mystery of hostel shower pressure—left us a glowing review on Hostelworld so radiant it could guide ships through fog:
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