This is what brought me down to Cardiff Reef to meet Murphy and try my luck. I was a bit nervous because I've always sucked at bodysurfing -- I mean, bad. Some blame the invention of the leash as contributing to general decay in bodysurfing skill. I won't bother with a reason other than lack of coordination.

Scott Bass, director of surfboard expo Sacred Craft, called the current handplane movement the "anti-SUP." In terms of alternative equipment, he's got a point. It's at the opposite side of the scale in gear requirements; regular surfers aren't going to hate you because, well, they're not going to think about you; and let's face it, the SUP crowd doesn't get barreled ... often.

Murphy had been loaning his hand planes around the Cardiff crew and was down to his personal blade. So we had to walk around the parking lot looking for a spare. A friend of Murphy's said, "Just use a flip-flop, that's what kids do at Sandy Beach." It suddenly dawned on me that flip-flops were now more prevalent in the islands than palm fronds and driftwood. The guy had a point.

After Murphy repossessed one of his planes, we made the hop down to Seaside Reef. Hand planners still look for ideal conditions, just a different set of them. Size isn't an issue, but power is. A steep wave that tends to break in the same spot with a short swim is good for a rookie like me. Immediately, however, I was confronted with the act of swimming with the plane in one hand. Murphy designed the Brownfish so that you can wear the plane and swim at the same time. But there's a number of techniques. A little natural coordination is an asset. Also, it wasn't until we'd made the lineup that I began to wonder exactly how to use the thing. "A rule of thumb is to wear it on your right hand going right, and your left going left. Try to think of your body as a surf board, that's your planning surface." Also, he added, "You're going to get burned by a standup surfer, that's just the way it is."

To my surprise, the drop into a wave actually feels like the drop on a surfboard. My first wave was a left that I would have been a bit late on if I'd been strictly bodysurfing. When the hull gets up to speed and actually planes, you can feel the lift kick in as with a fish or another short, flat board. And suddenly, I was out on the shoulder, gliding, for a good distance -- definitely a first. The mind divisions of a goofyfoot or regular still seem to hang with you, however. As a goofyfoot, I discovered that I preferred the in-the-pocket view going right. Suddenly the right wall and shoulder was totally visible and the limitations erased.

On the inside, I looked up to see Murphy stalling in a green pocket at an angle and speed that any surfer could appreciate. It just looked really classy. On a left he put his right hand on top of the planning hand and became a bullet. This is when I realized the worlds of technique and style available despite the size of the equipment.

Emerging from the water, I knew I'd already out-done any body surfing session I'd ever had. The minimum goals I'd established had been met; I caught waves, caught a view, and I'd even been burned by a surfer. But something else was happening too. I found myself in the midst of rethinking the landscapes of all the breaks available to me, all those thumping insiders too small to crouch into. It was happening all over again, that kick that led me into the ocean the fist time.