On Cornwall's rugged north coast, Louise Roddon gets her computer-obsessed son into the great outdoors with the help of centrally heated surf gear.

By Louise Roddon, The Telegraph

It was always going to be hard to prise my 12-year-old son away from his computer and into the wild outdoors. Throw in the fact that it’s a frisky-cold morning, and we are about to chuck ourselves into the chilly briny embrace of a Cornish sea, and the job gets tougher.

Ah. But I have a trick up my sleeve. Actually, I have a trick up my back, too. And my bottom for that matter. Because Felix and I are standing here, attending our first surf lesson, and we are kitted out in the newest, best wet suits known to man. They are a sluggard’s lure to the great outdoors: a wet suit with in-built central heating.

Sounds impossible? Not at all, because these “hot suits” are fitted with an ingenious heat pad device that slips into a Velcro-fastening waist belt. It means you can surf in even the coldest of conditions, and they really do work. I’m feeling amazingly toasty, as if wrapped and strapped into a streamlined duvet.

Getting into the damn things is another matter altogether, and right now I want to look keen and sporty, so I can redress an earlier gaff that saw me trying to squish my leg into the arm tube. But clearly our teacher is used to dealing with complete amateurs and he makes no comment.

We’re learning with the Surf Club, based at Bedruthan Steps Hotel near Newquay on the north Cornwall coast. This lesson is one of a handful of outdoor activities which families can try during school holidays here . So while we are practising warm-up sun salutations on the sands of Mawgan Porth, others are out on a Food Foraging Walk. I rather envy their gentle-sounding morning spent munching daisies and chewing wild garlic because, however cosy these suits are, quite soon we have to brave the waves. And I am not a strong swimmer.

No matter. Mike, our teacher reassures us we won’t go out of our depth. A classic surf dude, with wiry body, salt-tangled curls and a weather-carved face like a beaten-up Bruce Springsteen, he is brilliantly encouraging. “Great balance!” he cries. “Great wave selection,” he tells Felix when we start prone surfing on our bellies in an attempt to catch our first waves. “When you go for it, give it your best; the more waves you’re going to catch, the more fun you’re going to have, and the more chance you’ll have of standing up.”

There’s a whole hippy undertone to surfing that I find both amusing and appealing. I can understand “feeling the wave’s energy”; the term “wiped out” takes me back to my student days, and I’m amazed at how quickly I lose my fear of the sea, swishing into the waves and happily falling off my board – time after time. It’s those toasty wet suits, you see. Over to my left, Felix, damn his eyes, has managed to stand up. I move from sphinx pose to my knees, and bask in Mike’s praise.

Equally rewarding is the fact that my son is obviously appreciating the whole fresh air thing. The momentum is enough to take us through to Bedruthan’s outdoor survival skills session – a hugely enjoyable afternoon spent in opposing teams, where I join up with the Buckland family from East Sheen and we endeavour to thrash Felix’s side in a series of do-or-die tasks.

We are given an imaginary scenario: an air crash in a South American jungle. First, how to make fire from a simple flint device. One father cheats with a surreptitious cigarette lighter. Next comes a race to create an overnight shelter from twigs and a square of canvas. Ours provides just enough cover for a pygmy. Then we move on to animal traps; an SOS signal culled from freshly cut logs, and a makeshift stretcher for a casualty.

It is all good bonding stuff with friendly family bickering and, when it starts to rain, enjoyable comments from a jolly blonde mother who subverts the seriousness of it all with her suggestion that we head in for tea.

Getting Felix to go for a blowy cliff-top walk on the last day was another challenge – sorted eventually in exactly the same way as the surfing problem. Except that this time I went for internal central heating: Cornish pasties. We walked for miles, scrabbling over tussocky mounds and along gorse-fringed paths towards Watergate Bay. It was a perfect couple of hours. Isn’t it wonderful what a 12-year-old boy will do, when food is the lure?

Bedruthan Steps Hotel, Mawgan Porth, Cornwall (01637 860860, www.bedruthan.com; seaview family rooms from £83 per person per night half board). Children’s rates are on a variable scale according to age. A two-hour surf lesson for two, with heated wetsuits provided, costs £70 and an afternoon of bushcraft and survival skills costs £30 for two.
Air South West (0870 2418202, www.airsouthwest.com) has return fares from Gatwick to Newquay from £39.