Because floating around on pieces of foam is still fun, even when it’s not. Photo: Guy Kawasaki
Be honest, you’ve felt it too. “Felt what,” you ask? Not the holiday spirit or the resulting eggnog hangover. You’ve felt like a ridiculous excuse for a Real Person while out there bobbing around like a buoy in the deep blue.
The surfing world is bursting with banal platitudes to describe being “one with the wave,” and as much as we despise their cheesiness, they’re all true. The sensation of living in liquid for a few hours is as addictive as it is transcendent. Surfing’s rich history in places like Hawaii, Australia, and California, where riding waves is engrained in the culture, adds to the depth of the reverent buzz.
However, the pure physics of surfing, and the act as seen from a distance, is outrageous. The fact that so many of us take playing in the waves so intensely seriously is even more nutso.
Have you forgotten what’s at the core of our sport? Stand-up sledding on melted snow.
In the halcyon days before I got my first used Burton Air, my friends and I used to get vertical on our plastic sleds, grab the rope and ‘skate’ down bulletproof New England hills. We later graduated to old skateboard decks, which was exactly the instant when the first snow skates were born.
Apologies to all.
These days, I join the cultish camp of grown men and women who yank on various layers of rubber and other neoprene accoutrement as needed (by the way, can we please change the name “booties” to something more hardcore like “barrel beaters” or “rubber soles?”) Then we grab our colorful toys, lie down on our bellies, and churn the current like butter so we can fly down waves, just as I did on my sled-board as a grom.
The steeper the wave, the faster the sled, the more fun we have, right? Step on the ride and for those few seconds, all life stress – or holiday stress – melts away. Suddenly, riding the next wave with power and style seems like, no, is the most important thing in the world, when in fact, it’s just a fun, fleeting roller-coaster ride.
Sure, all sports and hobbies can be critically dissected. Tossing a ball through a hoop, kicking a ball into a goal or through the uprights, riding a bike or a car in glorious circles; all of this, when seen through a certain strobe-light, is inane.
Shooting an arrow at a target, well, there’s some practicality there, more so than tossing an ultimate frisbee at an enemy combatant, I think (sorry, ultimate dude-bros).
Skiing and snowboarding are similar, though I guess if we’re ever in a high-speed chase on a mountain a la James Bond, those skills could come into play. I mean, even when I skateboard down the block, I can do errands or get from point A to break B. When was the last time you waxed up your stick, paddled into town to grab a pizza and slapped a few cutbacks on the way back?
Surf skills, of course, help lifeguards all over the world do their jobs, as evidenced by Luke Shepardson’s win at the 2023 Eddie.
Plus, surfers are bred to look forward, whether to the next wave, the next session, or the next swell. No two waves are the same, and our typical sessions are imperfect and filled with a mix of would-be-epic waves, crowds, tide drops, and lots of paddling. Yet our internal waterborne optimism keeps us from dwelling in negativity.
In many ways, surfing signifies the power of hope, and hope is a good thing, especially at this time of year, and especially in today’s world of international and national tragedies.
While surfing is mostly a self-indulgent habit, it also has surprisingly transformative effects on our mental state, our attitudes, and our physical health. In short, a few good waves can turn a shitty Monday into a day to remember, for all the right reasons.
Surfing’s power to change our spirit and our mood has been recognized academically, and riding waves is proven to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, adrenaline, and endorphins, expose us to negative ions, and even shift the frequency of our brainwaves. According to Joe Gilmore, SEO of Renaissance Recovery, surfing provides “an outlet for emotional release and catharsis” as well as a “a unique form of escapism and a break from everyday stressors.”
This natural high seems inconsistent with the vibe of many surf lineups, however. When did it become uncool to smile or laugh while out there passing the peace pipe with the pelicans? I, for one, love the guy out there who gets a killer barrel and comes out grinning or hooting. I love him with violent jealousy, but I love him just the same.
Yes, even the wipeout is worth our appreciation.
Speaking of One Love, the other day, I found myself next to a lineup surf species I hadn’t yet met: the Cheerleader. This guy called everyone into waves and hooted for them, and his enthusiasm lifted the vibe of the entire pack.
Even better was a guy I met the next day, who cheered for himself. He’d disappear on a wave and then you’d hear “Slap the lip, Baby! Hit it! Now go, go go go, Buddy, go!” At first, I thought he was talking to me, but nope, this was totally self-surf-love.
Wait, that sounded weird. And was his name actually Buddy?
Anyway, as surf conditions get more demanding and dangerous, one needs to be focused and aggressive, and those behaviors come with a certain mindset. However, the preposterous nature of surfing was highlighted the other day during a session that was long on tiny tubes and short on good vibes.
Escaping a long to-do list, I speed-biked to the beach just to bob next to about 25 silent strangers, all waiting for a wave to break the long lull. All different ages and all clad in black rubber, we just drifted like gulls, one with the ocean. I’m certain we all had things to do and places to be, but bizarrely, we’d all chosen to try our luck at getting hooked on a feeling in the Pacific for part of our day.
As I scanned for some acknowledgement of our preposterous quest, I found only stern eyes and furrowed brows. When a set finally came, we jockeyed for position as if our lives depended on conquering the only waist-high roller in our periphery, then fired eye-bullets at the single soul who stole the glide.
Surfing may have undebatable power, but surfers remain undignified whack-jobs. See us, getting naked in public parking lots on hot and cold days. See us, overbuying surfboards and nerding out on their dimensions. See us, planning our entire day around the wind and the tides, because everything else come second (sorry, Everyone Else…but it’s true).
These are goofy ideas, but the idea of riding waves over and over in pursuit in search of a connection to nature that is absent in much of mainstream society, is more sacred than silly.
It seems so clear to surfers that we are put on Earth to ride waves that we sometimes forget that the non-surfers in our lives don’t grasp how seriously we take it, or the fact that the lightning strike of an excellent wave stays with us for the entire day. Our friends and family sometimes don’t know how to treat our fixation, or think we’ll outgrow it in the same way that we may someday learn that even new boardshorts are not considered high fashion nor are they appropriate for 99.5 percent of outings.
If you’re reading this, chances are that surfing makes up at least a part of who you are. Or, you’re just taking the high-line in order to skewer me in the comments for my cheesy idealism. Either way works, Brah, but if you DM me I’m going to send back a Santa emoji. Know this.
The next time you’re sitting at the break, glowering at the empty horizon, remember that what you are taking part in is solemn, badass and supernatural; it is also ridiculous. Then, realize that there is nothing else you’d rather be doing, grab the wave of your life, close your eyes, and shout out, “You got this Buddy, RIP IT!”
