Drop-in or burn? Photo: JP Van Swae
The moment was seared into my consciousness, as memories of abject humiliation often are. The thing happened a few years ago. I was surfing a semi-private reef break in Malibu that while known to locals by a variety of names, I’ll just describe it as being located out in front of Julia Robert’s house. One of the biggest south swells of the season, midday, sunny, wind offshore, set waves hitting double-overhead, crowd light. This being Malibu, I found myself sitting at the peak with actor Chad Lowe and his wife Kim, both experienced, competent surfers whom I’d previously shared sessions with. To my surprise, I saw that they were joined in the lineup by Chad’s brother, who floated on on the far side of the peak, looking very relaxed and smiling his famous 300-watt smile as if lounging in a Silver Lake swimming pool. Did I mention this was a pretty big day?
“I didn’t know your brother surfed.” I said.
“Yeah, he does,” Chad said.
“Kinda,” said Kim.
Right on cue a rogue set lifted up outside, catching us chatting. Chad and Kim scratched off the peak, but I hung back, having surfed this particular spot quite a bit, confident that I was sitting in the right spot for an exciting late takeoff. Chad’s bro, on the other hand, was in exactly the wrong spot, bobbing about 10 feet to my right, behind the apex of the peak, totally inert, staring at the oncoming wave like a possum caught in the headlights. A flash thought: hopefully I’ll hit my bottom turn before he and his board, locked in the lip, come down on me like a ton of bricks.
I took what I felt was a really late drop, but as I leaned into my turn something caught my eye. I shot a quick glance behind me and to my horror saw that not only had Chad’s brother turned in time to catch the wave, but had survived a late drop of his own, and was now awkwardly bottom-turning in my wake.
“Omigod,” I inwardly gasped. “I just dropped in on Rob Lowe!”
I point back to this nadir in my surfing career, having lately been following the spirited online discussion stemming from both a viral Instagram video of a female surfer’s unfortunate — and very spectacular — transgression at Lombok’s Desert Point, and another clip featured in Koa Rothman’s recent “This is Livin’” vlog, wherein at the very same Indonesian reef break, Rothman’s ‘interaction’ with an uncooperative surfer is covered from both land and water angles. Amusing to watch, sure, as well as ideal fuel for vitriolic input, yet beyond the superficial “good-guy/bad guy” distinction it seems to me that both the clips beg a more complex, existential question: Is there a difference between dropping in on someone, and burning them?
I think there is. And it’s all about intention.
A couple historical examples. During the finals of the 1964 World Contest, held at Manly Beach, Australia, Hawaii’s Joey Cabell was considered by most observers to be the obvious standout. The judging panel, however, pointing to the fact that Cabell very deliberately rode almost every one of his waves in front of a fellow finalist, were less impressed, awarding him third place behind courteous Californian Mike Doyle and eventual winner Midget Farrelly.
“I was told it was taken away from me because I’d dropped in too many times,” recalled Cabell, in a 1995 interview with surfing historian Matt Warshaw. “Which I did. But, you know, the game back then was totally different. In Hawaii, at least. The game for the outside guy was to try and hold off the inside guy for as long as possible, until he was sure the inside guy couldn’t make it, before turning up and trying to make the wave.”
Cabell, banging rails at the ’64 World Contest: burn.
Now consider another example of hardly synchronized surfing from the archives. One of the highlights of Bill Delaney’s epoch-defining film Free Ride (1978’s updated release) was a spectacular, two-for-one ride captured on a big day at Off-the-Wall. Soon-to-be world champion Mark Richards is shown late-dropping into a hefty barrel and racing along in the shadow of the curl—no mean feat on his previously untested 6’4” twin-fin. Unbeknownst to MR, however, was that 1977 world champion Shaun Tomson had taken off on the same wave from way behind the peak and was riding deeper in the tube, successfully negotiating both the foam ball and MR’s writhing wake. The smile on Shaun’s face as he emerges into the sunlight behind Richards, contrasting MR’s very obvious, startled chagrin, says it all.
MR and Shaun at Off-the-Wall: drop-in.
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So now let’s examine the latest two incidents, both referenced earlier in this story. In the first, a clip shot by filmer Rory Pringle at Lombok’s notorious Desert Point, a surfer named Brittany Penaroza is shown taking off in front of another surfer speeding down the line. As that surfer comes from around a section and climbs up the face, he become tangled with Penaroza, putting out a hand to control the sudden encounter, causing Penaroza to flip off her board and go over the falls in the lip. Dubbed by Pringle as the “BrittFlip,” the clip, now certifiably viral, was showered with online derision, virtually all pointed toward the female participant, harshly chastising her for what many (and mostly male) commentors considered to be a burn of epic proportions.
But was it, really? A closer look at the video shows three surfers on that particular wave. Surfer number one drops into a fast-moving wall, eventually falling behind the curl line as Surfer number two takes off. Surfer number two builds speed and comes around a section, where he finds Surfer number three (Penaroza) dropping down in front of him. Their interaction is described above, but watch what happens after the mishap: Surfer number one looks back to see what happened to Penaroza, then almost immediately kicks out of a perfectly good wave. Now, I don’t know who he is, but I’ll bet he didn’t kick out so he could go back and dish out a Brittany beat-down. I like to think there was at least a shred of chivalry in the otherwise hectic lineup that day; turns out Penaroza’s flip onto reef earned her five stitches.
The Brittflip: drop-in.
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Very unlike the first Desert Point ride featured in one of North Shore scion Koa Rothman’s recent This is Livin’ vlog. In this clip, Rothman is depicted shifting through gears on a well-overhead wall when a decidedly large surfer takes off, drops in behind, then pulls up in the wall in front of him. Rothman eventually draws abreast, and not only does the big guy not kick out, but Rothman can even be heard in the GoPro version offering a relatively courteous (considering the circumstance) “Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa…” as the pair pumps down the line virtually rail-to- rail. Continuing to ride in front, the big guy even looks back at Rothman a few times, until the wave drains out and finds Rothman threading the right line through a crowded curl, eventually leaving his confrontational wave-mate behind.
Desert Point Duel: burn.
So, it seems to me that the difference between a drop-in and a burn is in the the intention — or the perception thereof. And that the difference lies as much in the eye of the beholder as the participant. Perfect example, my ride with Rob Lowe on that big day. It never entered my mind that he would swing and go on that set wave, let alone was even capable of making the drop. Of course, when I saw that he had, I immediately edged out over the top, shuddering with embarrassment, leaving him to ride what I later heard he described as “the wave of his life.” So no harm, no foul, right? But to the crowd watching from the beach, the verdict was crystal clear.
Sam and Rob Lowe’s set wave: burn.
And I’m just going to have to live with that.
