Surfing the river rapids in Montreal, Canada

Staring at the rapids in the Saint Lawrence River, the only plus point I could think of was that there was very little chance of being eaten by a shark.

It had been a good few years between surf lessons. My first took place at Bondi Beach in glorious sunshine, and while I hardly emerged as the new Kelly Slater, I managed to stand up, temporarily ride the odd wave and generally not disgrace myself.

My second lesson, however, was clearly a punishment for never properly following up the first. Montreal may not immediately strike as an obvious surfing capital, being both hundreds of kilometres inland and at a latitude more suited to thick coats than board shorts. But an unlikely surf scene kicked off there in the early 2000s, when a small band of diehards who had caught the surfing bug from ocean beaches around the world started experimenting with the rapids in the river.

They found a few that were remarkably consistent; effectively they were permanent waves, and with a few adjustments in technique, they could be surfed year-round.

The hardy few snowballed, and now Montreal has hundreds of river surfers – plus a few intrepid tourists willing to give it a bash.

This involves a wetsuit-clad march through the park to the Lachine Rapids, then a few ginger steps down a muddy river bank. It's a somewhat inauspicious introduction to La Vague à Guy, the beginner wave that all novices are sent to have a go on at first. Depending on water levels, it's between half a metre and a metre high. Others are bigger, but this is adequate for those with training wheels on.

There's one major difference between ocean surfing and this Canadian twist on the concept. In the ocean, the waves come to you, while in the river, the current pulls you along to the wave.

This requires a change of both mindset and actions. The idea is to get into the river at a point where you'll drift towards the wave, turn around as you get near it, then start paddling against the current.

It is, however, a thoroughly unforgiving test of timing. Miss the moment, and the current will send you charging downstream in a furious hurtle towards the Atlantic Ocean. As I quickly learn, the expenditure of energy comes not in paddling out to meet the wave, but in the frantic, panicked attempts to get back to shore after completely bungling it.