The Lost Shore Surf Resort is on the cusp of opening

It turns out that surfboards don’t have brakes.

I speed towards the edge of the wave pool, faster - I imagine - than a jet ski. Then, suddenly, I tip, and a few pints of water go shooting up my nose. Wipe out!

I’m getting a taste of Lost Shore Surf Resort, which opens on November 11.

The £60 million attraction - Europe’s largest inland surfing resort - has been over a decade in the making and was the concept of founder Andy Hadden.

“It’s astounding to see what we’ve created,” he says. Indeed. That’s an understatement.

The piece de resistance is Europe’s largest and most advanced wave pool. My mind was blown when I rounded a corner, after getting the bus to Ratho - “I’ve never heard of Lost Shore,” said the number 70 driver, who presumably won’t remain naive for much longer - and the destination came into view.

There’s something otherworldly about the resort.

Waves without tides, via their high-tech Wavegarden Cove, seem like magic. I feel like the Victorians must have felt when they saw the first horseless carriages.

The silvery pool is three times the size of Wembley Stadium’s pitch, and can generate up to 1,000 customisable waves per hour. The backdrop at this former quarry is gray flinty-looking stone, which makes me think of the volcanic rock that surrounds the Blue Lagoon in Iceland.

According to Paul Spence, Lost Shore’s visitor experience manager, this material was once transported along the canal to make the cobbles on the Royal Mile.

The water in the pool is treated and tamed - lightly chlorinated, so there are no bugs. It is not, however, heated. I don’t know why this idiot imagined that it might be. Expect it to be close to the temperature of the Scottish sea.

Our instructors, all wearing yellow T-shirts, are very encouraging, and keen to tell us novices how safe it is. Indeed, there’s even a lifeguard tower, in the centre of the space.

After we’d heaved ourselves into our thick and toasty box fresh wetsuits, our initial training lesson had taken place on the grassy areas by the changing facilities.

We’re told how to carry the boards and how to pull ourselves onto them, how to attach the leash, and use our arms to assume the ‘chicken wing’ position, with flippers - I mean, feet - kicking at the end.

I already delusionally imagine myself to be as talented as Scottish big waver surfer and Red Bull athlete, Ben Larg, from Tiree.

We saw him earlier, riding the waves. I am assuming they had cranked the level up to the maximum. Anyway, it was an incredible sight. He may as well have been carrying a trident.

However, it turns out that I can’t even stand up.

We were shown how to do the pop, onto our feet, but my legs have turned to jelly.

When we’re in the water, I try to buy time, by chatting to one of the instructors, who tells me that he’s been surfing for 40 years, and is originally from Sutherland. The feeling that he gets in the water is a sense of ‘freedom’, and he’s not the only one who says that. So does Larg.

The other instructor who’s working with us today has also been surfing since he was tiny, and his sister owns a surf school.

As we talk, I’m being gently guided towards the bigger waves. I ask if they’ve got it on the lowest setting for us but, no, apparently, that’s reserved for their therapeutic Surf Therapy sessions and small children. Oh well.

And, before I know it, I’ve been prompted to hop onto the board, using my chicken wing technique, and he’s given it a push.

This time, I know how to dismount. I whizz towards the edge of the bay, then get off by sliding my legs off and kneeling.

There is no standing up today. I’m surprised how exhausted I feel afterwards.

But it’s not time to go home yet. There’s plenty to do, once you’re done with surfing.

Along the 250-metre ‘beachfront’, there are kids drifting around on their SurfSkate Academy boards, which are sprung at the front trucks, to recreate the feel of surfing on water. If only I was 12 and less breakable, I would give them a shot too.

There’s also an outdoor Spear Sauna, which we use to dry off in, since most of us had forgotten our towels. It seats up to 18, is clad in aspen, and has ice buckets outside for cooling down.

As far as food goes, there’s a zoned restaurant area, Canteen, which is all industrial and pale wood, with an internal nook that features a wood-burning stove.

It also includes an events space, where coming happenings will include The Lost Feast - a Narnia-esque immersive winter woodland experience, on December 4-20, and The Lost Cinema film screenings

At the moment, the restaurant features pizza purveyors Civerinos, veggie focused Five March, Rafa’s tacos and Company Bakery. But that will change, with other vendors popping up later on.

The residents will be curated by the events company, Rogue Village, which is owned by Peter and Jenny Maniam.

“It’s just such a great space,” Jenny says. “And somewhere you can take the kids and feel relaxed”.

They even have themed cocktails at the bar. I quite fancy the Always Sunny in Ratho.

If that weather forecast was totally accurate, I’d be happy to stay long term in their self-catering accommodation, which has been created by Scottish company Armadilla.

On one side of the resort, scattered among their landscaping design of cockle shells, soft white sands and sea grass, there are smaller Waterfront Pods, with floating king-sized beds and neat space-age shower cubicles, as well as accessible Kurvs properties.

Up on the hill is a cluster of three or four-bedroom Hilltop Lodges, for families and larger groups.

There’s also a beautiful Wellness area, plus a shop, where you can buy branded beanies, boards, sunnies and other merch, and, in another building, there’s plenty of changing space, with showers and lockers, and every amenity.

It is incredibly impressive. I enthuse to my Uber driver about it all the way home, while my still wet hair slowly drips onto my jeans.

I caught waves at Edinburgh's incredible new Lost Shore surf resort that looks like it's from another planet

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