It was all my son’s fault, really. My 4-year-old had been nagging me to take him skimboarding ever since we saw some teenagers last summer at Dash Point beach, and finally I called to set up a lesson. (He’s too young for camp.) And I thought, well, why not me, too? Like him, I can skateboard, and it looked similar. It also looked fun. Plus, I thought, if a 38-year-old non-athlete like me can learn to skim, anyone can. It’ll inspire people. So Nicolo and I put on some boardshorts and shivered our way down the beach to where Isaac Thomas, pro skimmer and manager at DBSkimboards, was waiting with three boards and a big grin.

I tried to grin, too. Suddenly, the whole idea sounded really, really scary. Jumping onto an unpredictably moving target with only 3 inches of water to cushion the fall?

When I was growing up in Australia, skimboarding was pretty fringe. What began in the 1920s as a way for California lifeguards to speed up their beach patrols had reached Australia as a silly kind of thing surfers did when there weren’t any real waves. You made your own circular board from plywood, skidded around in the shallows, and nobody paid much attention. Not being a surfer, I didn’t either.

Now, skimboarding’s almost mainstream, with top-dollar teardrop-shaped boards, professional competitions like the Dash Point Pro Am, which attracted 65 competitors and blocked traffic last month, and summer camps for kids. Skimmers build death-defying ramps to practice tricks, and travel up and down the Northwest coast in search of the perfect skim.

None of which helped me much, standing shivering by the stream that flows down Dash Point beach to create an ideal skim spot. Nicolo couldn’t wait to show off, but I started worrying: Broken wrist? Broken neck? How would I drive home? Worst of all, how bad would the photo be in the paper?

Isaac was calm. “Start off on the sand,” he told me, showing us both how to hold the board with one hand behind, one on the side. “The throw is crucial. Get it low, throw it straight.”

OK. Low and straight. No problem. Just like a bowling ball, actually.

Then came the jump. Isaac showed me how to plant one foot, jump straight ahead and land like a skateboarder. Well, OK, I could do that too. It’s pretty easy to ride a board that isn’t moving.

And then Isaac took us into the stream. Being a good mom, I let Nicolo go first. He fell off.

“Take it slow,” said Isaac. “And don’t think about falling.” I threw my board, ran after it, and jumped. Two feet of sliding, then I bailed with (embarassment!) a scream. OK. Deep breath.

Isaac smiled encouragingly: “That was great!”

Yeah, right.

I tried again. And again. And again. I did at least three knee falls, many bailouts, and one spectacular full-length butt-plant. I was wet through and completely sandy. So was Nicolo.

And then it happened: I ran like I meant it, jumped (“Gracefully!” called Isaac), landed – and skimmed. Like skateboarding, but smoother, with the salt air in your face and the waves in your ears. Like flying, just a little.

It only lasted about five seconds, but I was completely stoked, and I could see why you’d come back day after day, in miserable weather, to do this. It’s just like slip-n-slide, only for grownups. I did more runs, got more confident, fell off a few more times, and watched Nicolo happily skimming away, getting into turns and generally looking very cool.

When the lesson was up, I was ready to stop – it’s actually pretty tiring, running up and down a beach for an hour, not to mention the adrenaline. But I was already planning how to justify buying a board. We watched Isaac skim away down the stream to join his buddies, carving turns and flipping ollies, and I knew we’d be back pretty soon.

It’s not the kind of sport I think I’ll ever be great at. It’s not the kind of thing I’d want to spend a lot of money on. But as a way of having fun at the beach, sliding like a 4-year-old is pretty cool.

Especially once you stay on.

Rosemary Ponnekanti: 253-597-8568

rosemary.ponnekanti @thenewstribune.com