Photo: @raflfc / unsplash
You know exactly where the rip pulls and pushes. Hell, you probably ride it out to the lineup like a conveyor belt, paddling parallel to land until it drops you off exactly where you want to be. You know when the winds are going to make it mushy but you also know when that offshore gust will come to hold the face of each wave up. And yet for being so attuned to the ocean’s moods and movements, you’re still wildly dependent on a piece of floating foam with fins.
I first noticed I was surfing on fiberglass and foam after I had spent all summer surfing a chambered wooden surfboard I made from scratch. I borrowed a friend’s board during a visit to Florida and realized something was wrong. I had grown so accustomed to looking down at wood beneath me, feeling the weight of it in my hands and swelling with pride from riding something I had built myself, that I was taken aback by riding such a lifeless surfboard. It had nothing to do with performance. In many ways this conventional board outperformed my wooden tank by a large margin, but something was off.
There is a special feeling when you’re in the water and dependent on something you made. You begin with something that is of the earth and your own hands transform it into something that can ride a wave. It connects you to the water and the natural world around you. You are not riding a lifeless piece of floating plastic, but a great majestic piece of floating wood that was once a strong tree. It gave life to more trees and was home to squirrels, birds, worms, and beetles.
Paddling out into the frothy surf on your wood plank, you realize that it’s all alive around you: the water, the shoreline, the board, and now you, just bobbing around in it all.
It’s not just a board. It’s a connection to the first Polynesians who rode waves as well as future generations that may have the chance to enjoy that same piece of wood.
But a quick way to break out of this revery for the natural world is to take a spill off of that gorgeous piece of wood coming off the lip of a wave. Quickly going from “Ahhh” to “Ahhhh shit!” as you realize this giant piece of lumber is flying up at your face. You fall into the water with your arms cradled around your noggin. You resurface soon after and take a big breath.
You pull the board back between your legs and it’s back to waxing poetic on the universal connection of all life. Man, what a board.
