My lineup, or yours? Maybe that’s not the way to look at it? Photo: Austin Neill//Unsplash
Ask a surfer to describe the conditions at any particular spot, on any particular day, anywhere in the world, be it urban beach or remote Pacific atoll, and I could probably tell you the very first thing they’ll talk about. Not the swell, the tide, direction of the wind or consistency or shape of the waves. No, despite all the factors involved in even the most prosaic go-out, virtually all surfers narrow their initial session assessment down to a single topic: crowds. As in the excess of, or lack thereof. Yet stand in a surf spot parking lot or on a bluff overlooking the water, or (best-case scenario) in a boat in the channel and while you’ll find that the vast majority of surfers will be expressing an almost instinctive aversion to others of their kind in the lineup, very few will be taking a moment to ask themselves a rather pertinent question: “Exactly who are these crowds that we spend so much of our time thinking and talking about?”
Of course, the concept of “crowd” varies from spot to spot, some waves considered overly congested with five surfers out, some with 50. In other cases a crowd is defined more by who is actually surfing than by how many are sitting in the lineup. Take a typically well-attended day at Pipeline, for example, when more than 60 surfers can be found floating over the fabled lava reef. But do you think that when, say, a Koa Rothman or Jamie O’Brien or John John Florence gazes out over the multitude, they consider this a crowded day? No, they’re counting the number of other hot locals and Pipe legends they’ll actually be contending with for all the best waves, which on most days amounts to only a handful. The rest of the surfers in the water aren’t a crowd – they’re spectators. Ditto at almost every other black diamond, or at least A+ surf spot on earth, except for maybe Queensland’s Snapper Rocks, where the fiberglass curtain is so impenetrable that even the region’s numerous world champs often have trouble navigating their way down the line.
Spectators aside, Trestles sultan and performance visionary Herbie Fletcher used a different term when regarding the saturated Lowers lineup during any decent south swell: “buoy surfers,” he’d call the mob, actually stoked that the sight of the veritable raft of foam and fiberglass might deter even more from paddling out, when, in fact, he saw only the three other San Clemente silverbacks sitting at the apex of the peak, with whom he’d be sharing the set waves.
Regardless of status or years of experience, however, it’s clear that most surfers always consider the crowd to be “someone else.” Oddly, this mindset often asserts itself most noticeably at remote, supposedly “uncrowded” surf spots; no more disappointed surfer can be found than the surf charter client who, when shepherded to a wild wave (Indonesia, Fiji, Central America…take your pick), finds five other similarly accommodated customers already out enjoying the very same thing they came looking for – and being deeply resentful of the intrusion.
Though not referring specifically to surfing, social scientists call this attitude “exceptionalism”, describing “…the perception or belief that a species, country, society, institution, movement or individual is unusual or extraordinary, the term carrying the implication, whether or not specified, that the referent is superior in some way.”
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Now that I think about it, maybe social scientists should use this term specifically for surfing, so perfectly does it apply. Picture the guy with a short board paddling out on a good day at Malibu, literally seething with resentment at the 50 or 60 other surfers out riding their longboards; as if he, in the extreme minority, is, in fact, the “right” kind of surfer, with the inalienable right to take any wave he wants.
And it’s not just a belief that the concept describes, but resulting behavior, as well. “A group may assert exceptionalism in order to exaggerate the appearance of difference,” one treatise explains. “To invoke a wider latitude of action, and to avoid recognition of similarities that would reduce perceived justifications.”
If there’s any better example of “wider latitude of action” than back-paddling or dropping in on another surfer, I’d like to hear about it. Still, it’s another phrase in that description that resonates most pervasively: “recognition of similarities.” Isn’t it funny how vigorously surfers push back against this idea, somehow firm in the belief that we are all somehow different than everyone else out there. That our dedication is more authentic, our passion more pure, our motivation more justifiable; the fruits of our involvement much more deserved.
How different this surfing life might be if we could occasionally, just once every so often, look out toward the lineup with a radically different perspective. Try to imagine this sort of interior dialog: “Who is that crowd? Why are they out there? What sort of experience are they hoping for? How is my presence going to impact their go-out? Whoa, wait a minute. Even thinking this way means… means…means that…”
Means that yes, you are the crowd. And here’s the thing. With the understanding that “I am the crowd” comes the liberating realization that no matter how many people are out at any particular spot, at any particular time, there is no “crowd” per se, but merely a whole bunch of other surfers who, for whatever reason, really love to surf.
Just like you.
Exceptionalism is the perception or belief that a species, country, society, institution, movement, individual, or time period is “exceptional” (i.e., unusual or extraordinary). The term carries the implication, whether or not specified, that the referent is superior in some way
Hungarian Marxist philosopher György Lukács stressed the need to distinguish between class consciousness and the ideas or feelings actually held by the members of a social class. An objective analysis of class consciousness, according to Lukács, must take into account those thoughts and feelings but also those that the members would have held were they able to acquire a true picture of their situation and of society as a whole.
