NEWPORT, Ore. — In the parking lot of Starfish Point, the surfers tug and pull, squirm and wiggle their way into tight neoprene wet suits. Eventually, booties are tight, gloves snug, hoods in place — except for one surfer, who has no need for the head covering.

Hot flashes, says Tina Brush, explaining in two words everything women of a certain age need to know and defining this group as anything but your typical surfers.

Meet the Duchesses, five ladies with 279 birthday candles among them, the youngest newly turned 50, the oldest 66, and each determined on a sunny September morning to catch some waves, or at least suck up a lot of salt water trying.

Their quest began with a birthday. It was the big Five-O for Ruth Meier, and she wanted it to be one for the record books, not just the usual cake and cards and bad over-the-hill jokes, but an accomplishment, a gift for the long run.

"My husband has been a longtime surfer, and I grew up in Southern California," Ruth says. "Being the teenagers in the 70s, the girls were on the beach; we weren't on the water surfing. It was a taboo kind of thing."

Now, facing five decades on this planet, Ruth decided she would take a surfing lesson and she'd stick with it. She expected people might think she was crazy. Instead, she found herself a sort of leader of the pack, with friends suddenly asking, "Can I come, too?"

And so it was, the Duchesses — a fitting name, they decided, because older male surfers are called dukes — were born. Ruth is the baby of the bunch. Next is Danielle Emerick, 53, a lifelong diver and underwater photographer. Danielle tried surfing when she moved to the coast in 2004, but her instructor really didn't tell her much, she says. "I was getting nowhere, just kind of riding the waves. I was about to give up."

Carol Clifford, 54, can claim the most experience. Her husband, Ron, heads up the only 4-H surf club in the country and has been teaching for years. Last year, Carol, who has helped Ron teach the 4-H members, climbed on a board herself and has been surfing ever since.

Pam Moore, 56, is the only nonlocal. A third-grade teacher with the Oregon City School District, she makes the drive to join the others as often as she can.

"I took an unpaid leave to come today," she says. "But it is surfing; what can I say?" Today, she brought along her husband, Bill. "He's my surf daddy," Pam jokes. "He helps me get dressed and carries my board."

Tina, 66, a widow of three years, is the group's senior member and a former trick water-skier. Tina is the most tentative of the bunch and has surfed only once, when the women gathered in August for their first lesson.

"I'm afraid of the water," she admits. "Well, not the water, but the waves. If you take me out, I can swim and all; it's just getting past the waves."

Now the women grab boards and head for the beach. Husbands Ron Clifford and Ralph Meier are along for support, instruction and general cheerleading.

On the beach, Ralph points to the headlands above and relates the conversation he has with each new surfer he teaches.

First, he asks them to look out over the ocean, then close their eyes and remember what they see. Later, after the lesson, they return to the spot and repeat the exercise. Invariably, Ralph says, new surfers look out at the sea that second time and they all think about the same thing: riding those waves.

"I tell them, you've changed your life," he says. "For the rest of your life, you can't look at a wave without thinking about riding it."

On the beach, the surfers survey the waves, they stretch and practice rising on their boards from lying prone, to knees, to standing. Finally, leashes attached from board to ankle, they walk across the sand into the water.

The waves close to shore today curl about 4 to 5 feet high. They are strong, clean waves, with solid force behind them. The women stick close to shore and try to stay out of the way of other, more experienced surfers riding the bigger waves farther out. A strong current pulls south toward an area where riptides are active, and the Duchesses must fight to hold their ground. Fifteen minutes after wading in, Tina is back on shore, short of breath and red-faced.

"I am still afraid of the water," she says, worry and regret shadowing her eyes. "Danielle, she's determined to make it. I'm not sure I'm going to. I'm not sure my heart is in it."

For long minutes, Tina struggles with her desire to be one of the girls, and her gut instinct that tells her she is in over her head. Before long, she climbs the steep stairs to the parking lot, where she trades her longboard for the comfort of her bodyboard.

"I can still be a duchess even with my Boogie board," she says, smiling now. "I'll be the mother duchess."

Out in the water, Danielle has caught a wave — she's up on her knees, now to her feet and, for a moment, she's riding it in. Then, her balance defeats her and she crashes to the water. From over the thundering surf come the shouts, the whistles, the applause. The Duchesses are doing it. They are surfing.

And so it goes. One by one, the ladies raise up on their knees and lurch to standing, until the sea pulls the bottom out and they tumble with the waves.

But soon, they climb back on the board, find another wave, rise, fall, repeat.

An hour and a half after taking to the sea, they emerge wet, breathless and almost giddy with their new success.

"It was awesome," Danielle says. "The waves were good today. I got up, but I didn't stay up. That's my problem, not staying up."

Out in the distance, one of the regulars carves an elegant line across the curl of a wave. The Duchesses watch, smiling.

"This time next year," Ruth says. "I'm going to be out riding like those guys."