Photo: Kelvin Trautman
My local home break is a right hand point that, when the winter swell hits (you know the one), is like a dream. Clean, warm Indian Ocean water mixed with the brisk morning offshore winds, combine to create what surfing truly means to me – a blank canvass of expression and escape, all the while appreciating what the ocean has to offer. Don’t get me wrong, I’m by no means a contest surfer with a long heritage of riding stand up. In fact I’m quite the opposite, purely an aspiring waterman with an overwhelming desire to calm the stresses of daily life by dropping into mother nature’s most purest of creations, if even just to make the bottom turn.
My parents bought a beach house on the East coast of South Africa when I was seven years old, a meagre dwelling that was on the only beach front road in the village. As long as I can remember, I was constantly intrigued by the ocean, and at the tender age of 10, was introduced to joys of riding waves. Fast forward some 20 years and, after a well-past-its-due-date career as a body boarder, I turned to the fibre-glass. It was a joyous occasion, a spiritual right of passage in a way, when I bought my first board. It was defining moment in how I viewed surfing.
But this isn’t an article about surfing. It’s actually a means to sharing another sport that, in some way I feel is connected to surfing in it’s simplicity and ideals. A sport that, in just a very short space of time is shifting from the fringes of society to the core of almost every outdoor community around the world. A sport that, for me created a means to discovering a totally new canvass, not in the ocean but amongst the forests and hills of where I live today, and in doing so, a business that seeks to communicate why people do it.
Enter trail running.
Photo: Craig Muller
Gone are the days where a running activity warrants you pounding the pavement, or running aimlessly in consecutive loops around a salmon pink track with white lines guiding your every step. Sure, these types of running disciplines hold merit, albeit in a somewhat soul destroying manner. But in order to truly discover this absolute primal mode of exploration, one has to imagine the same action blended together with the beauty of a mountain or forest path. Instantaneously you are whisked into a new personal dimension. You’re drawn into the moment in a way that seeks your full attention, an immediate break away from the normalities of life. I can still remember the first time I went on a trail run. It was like being reborn. There are things about yourself that you only find out when pushing the limit of your body’s capability in an arena that is so natural, but in many ways, so foreign to many of us.
Think about the first time you took off on a wave. For some of you reading this, that may be a vivid memory. For others it may be an interlude lost in the bank of epic tube rides, massive top turns and the occasional air 360. As a trail runner, the neurological imprint is very much the same. It’s an experience that, for most individuals, baits the psyche into believing that this is how running should be. How exploring the natural world (on land) should be. How socialising with others should be. How being alone should be. How pushing the limits should be.
Photo: Craig Muller
Today, trail races around the world often challenge the participants into completing 100 mile courses on some truly staggering terrain. To put this into perspective, it’s like paddling out at a gnarly reef break in 6-8ft conditions and then surfing that for 24hrs straight. In all honesty, I have never been compelled to even attempt a distance like this, but I sure as hell can appreciate the thought process behind it all. My interest has long been piqued at the achievements of the likes of Kelly Slater, Twiggy Baker and Dylan Longbottom to name but a few. I have held their accolades in absolute admiration. More recently however, it’s the incredible feats of human endurance from people such as Nikki Kimball, Rob Krar and Kilian Jornet — ultra runners that have and are currently defining the sport of trail running — that motivates me to want to share it more and more with others.
My “Ground Control to Major Tom” moment came however when I realized that I didn’t need to run 100 miles to truly appreciate what this sport has to offer. The simple act of running on a trail, even for a mere 10 kilometers, is all it takes to discover the heartbeat of nature and how, like bottom turning and setting your line, presents you with the real reason why you choose to participate.
Photo: Andrew King
James Hallett is a South African surfer, trail runner and all round outdoor adventure enthusiast. He is the proprietor of Go Trail Media, a niche agency rooted in communicating all things trail and ultra running, along with the founder and tour director of the annual Trails In Motion international trail and ultra running film tour.
