The whole setup felt refreshingly relaxed. Staff lived onsite, joined in on everything from surf sessions to board games, and genuinely got to know us. On the first night, we were introduced to Werewolf, a group game none of us had played before and quickly became obsessed with. Evenings became less about going out and more about laughing under the stars by the pool.

The team dynamic made a real difference. The instructors were focused, kind, and invested. Surf lessons didn’t feel like a box-ticking exercise — they felt like someone really cared about you improving. We even had non-lesson surfs together, just for fun. We shared post-surf buffets, open-air movie nights, and impromptu café trips. It didn’t feel like a package holiday. It felt like travel used to feel — real, relaxed, and slightly unscripted.

Hands down, the best instruction I’ve had. Better than Portugal. Better than Bali. The instructors didn’t just teach — they explained. Swell patterns, weather apps, how to read a break, the history of surfboards, what to look for when choosing one. I soaked it all up.

Surf spots were close, no faffy drives, just grab your board and go. I’d recommend it most to surfers who’ve started catching green waves and want to build confidence — beginners might struggle to keep up with the pace, but anyone with a few sessions under their belt will love it.

One afternoon, we visited a nearby sea turtle sanctuary. While being shown the protected hatchling zone — a simple square of sand with today's hatchings — something caught my eye. A subtle shift in the sand, barely visible. I nudged the guide. We paused, watched... and out popped the tiniest turtle hatchling, scrambling to start its life.

The guide thanked me — this one likely would’ve gone unnoticed and become a bird’s lunch. I watched it for a moment, this fragile little thing making its brave debut. I still wonder how it's doing now, out there in the vast ocean. I hope it made it. I really do.

There were moments of illness — what I now believe was an early brush with COVID — but even then, the care from the instructors stood out. One brought me oranges and a homemade remedy her Sri Lankan grandmother swore by (turmeric, orange juice, and something else I’ve sadly forgotten). I still remember the energy it gave me. I still remember how seen I felt.

Even small touches, like a last-minute save on a misbooked airport taxi, made me feel like I was looked after — not as a customer, but as a person.

This camp wasn’t about showing off. It wasn’t about scene or selfies or curated surf vibes. It was simple, soulful, and full of small, generous human moments. If you’re looking for real connection, solid surf, and a sense that travel still has something to teach you, then LAPoint Sri Lanka might just be your spot.

Just keep an eye on the sand. You never know what might hatch.