Canadian Gromology 101

A flock of picture-perfect harlequin ducks fly by in a single file formation just as the wind switches to light offshore, and the swell seems to respond with a little extra pep. The point is perfect, and we’re all anxious to get in the water.

The boys beat us out there, but eventually we’re all sitting in the lineup, taking turns and encouraging each other to drop in on the next wave. A cacophony of whooshing rocks roll down the steep, stony shore as each successive wave lands on the gravel beach. Playful shouts and supportive cheers encourage each other to take a turn on the next wave. The soft summer sun still hangs above the horizon. Smoke from our smoldering fire curls up and twists through the thick treeline on the beach. All of us—the pro, the dads, the kids—all of us know without saying that this is what surfing is meant to be.

Bloodshot eyes and sun burned faces fill the boat on our calm ride home. The groms look absolutely exhausted. Adam nods and chuckles at the kids sprawled out on floater suits and blankets in the bow. He leans in close so I can hear over the hum of the motor and exclaims with a laugh, “The future of Canadian surfing!” 

We both smile, but his comment gets me thinking. Canadian surfing culture has changed significantly from its independent and adventurous roots in the ’60s. Canada’s early surfers came here for many reasons, but they were undoubtedly motivated to evade the emerging madness of commercial surf culture. Perhaps I’m idealizing the time, but it seems to me that Canadian surfing used to be all about coastal exploration and marine experience. And if they found a few good waves along the way, well, it just added to the whole of the experience.

Reed’s grandpa is one of those early surf explorers. In 1968, he traded Southern California’s branded surf scene for Vancouver Island’s free and wild coast. Reed’s grandma and grandpa explored the area we just surfed back in 1969, marking up marine charts with notes about surfable waves, burial caves and other coastal oddities. Back then, surfing alone or sharing a peak with one other person was the norm. After all, there were only a handful of surfboards in Tofino at the time.

We all know how much this has changed. National Geographic just placed our home town of Tofino second on its list of “World’s 20 Best Surf Towns.” Peter Devries and Raph Bruhwiler are household names in the international freesurfing scene. In 40 short years, Vancouver Island’s various lineups have gone from always empty to sometimes crowded. And for whatever reasons, crowded surf can cultivate poor attitudes and an occasional snarl. Is this the future of Canadian surfing?

I don’t think so. I think we’ll learn from the kids’ Super Sized Stoke. We’ll learn that surfing—like any sport—is ultimately about having fun and appreciating the people who support you. And it works best in our Canadian culture of smiles, modesty and encouragement. Luckily for us, the future of Canadian surfing is already here. And if we watch and listen, the groms will happily show us what surf culture is ultimately about: playing on the beach, exploring new places, fabricating things from flotsam, and appreciating the beauty of your home break in good waves and bad.