It all takes patience. Photo: Troy Williams
Last week, at least where I live, the waves vanished. When all semblances of swell suddenly disappear in a surf town, things get weird. Dazed longboarders wander the streets at dawn, unsure what else to do. I saw a woman paddle her shortboard through the puddles in the park. But short of a spontaneous surf trip, there’s nothing local surfers can do but wait in vain and exercise patience.
About a week before the waves left town, I found myself joined at my local break by a guy I’ve seen out in the water countless times. He recounted how one day this fall, I’d paddled by and muttered, “I’ve been in the wrong spot the entire day.” I laughed, said I didn’t remember my no doubt out-of-breath quip, and he shrugged. “That’s how I feel today. I watched you get that left from the beach and now…where’d it go?” He waved his hands angrily at the flat surface. As I headed in, his silhouette was framed against the sky, a lone soul waiting semi-patiently for the wave that got away.
Surfers are no strangers to hanging around and waiting, (and apparently, songwriters aren’t either). Patience is a large chunk of the polyurethane fiber of our being. We’re aware that just because we saw the perfect arc of a distant A-frame as we suited up, we may never see that wave again. Or, it will arrive three hours later, when we’re cold and tired, and detonate on our heads.
Our goal is to be efficient during sessions, but sometimes even the best surfers miss waves or find themselves in the wrong spot. A satisfying surf requires so many interrelated aspects — tides, wind, swell direction — to line up that we often find ourselves sitting on our boards, gazing intently at the horizon, and waiting.
As Tom Petty sings, “the waiting is the hardest part,” and no one copes with it well all the time. Yet when we glare at the sky angrily, when we wait impatiently, we lose our rhythm and rush through waves or miss them altogether. We also miss out on the birds, the sunrise, or a new thought or idea that being out in nature — and away from our screens — shook loose.
On the other hand, when we’re surfing well, we fold into a flow state fueled by a strong mix of self-control and endurance. We cede a wave to someone, we paddle laps, we size up a wave and then pull away as it closes out. As we wait, we chat with the surfers next to us, but give them only a small percentage of our attention. Part of this stoicism is inspired by faith that not only will the waves come, but that we will possess the self-assuredness to perform when they do.
Awareness and confidence are key for surfers, but patience is just as essential. We wait for storms and swells, sets, specific tides that seem to take forever to rise or drop. We anticipate the right wind, we wait out the crowds, we await our turn in the lineup. Out of the water, if we’re lucky, we count the days until our new board is shaped and glassed or look forward to our next surf trip.
For years, my path into surfing tested my patience. I started late, and it didn’t come as easily as skateboarding or snowboarding. Plus, in New England we sometimes spend weeks, even months praying for waves, and when the swell comes it frequently brings wave heights over our pay grade along with a scoop of ice cream headaches. It’s often either flat or firing; there simply aren’t as many days when Surfline inexcusably describes the conditions with terms such as “peaky” or “playful.” This past year my injuries tested my composure, because even as my knowledge of technique and experience level grows, my body doesn’t move as easily as it did in my 20s.
While impatience can ruin our sessions, there is an element of defiance in good surfing. To drop into a wave, crowd or no crowd, we must override any instinct telling us to wait and just send it. There’s absolutely no room for debate once we reach that last paddle, that specific speed. Hesitating for even a second — especially atop a steep, fast wave — sends us plummeting down the same wall of water that aimed to give us the ride of our life.
Surfers pinpoint a combination of patience and aggression that perhaps has no moniker, but which every rider of waves understands innately. We charge into the ocean, fully aware that we will be tested precisely so that we can zoom out on the other side, flying, fist in the air.
If you think about it, this surfy sense of hard-hitting patience, sans any doubt or timidity, can be utilized in every aspect of our lives. Paddling hard and unflinchingly towards what we truly want — along with a little luck — often pays off, in or out of the water.
Alright, enough deep thoughts. Now back to staring out the window, waiting for waves to come tomorrow — something else that all surfers understand.
