The drop in happens for a number of reasons. But there’s no official law against the practice. Photo: JP Van Swae
For days, a conversation with a friend over beers has resonated. The conversation, unsurprisingly, was about surfing, and surfers, and our beautifully blue, kaleidoscopic playground. My friend’s main argument was that surfers control a medium that is not ours to control. No one owns the ocean, she said, but surfers think they do. Plus, they really have no right to simply take over a certain beach or break and then basically disallow people from swimming there, not to mention vibe newbies and control the lineup like a crime family. Our enthusiastic discussion veered from localism to etiquette to selfishness, and I agreed with her on two points: no one owns the ocean, and, especially to outsiders, many surfers seem like assholes.
The freedom to do whatever we want atop a shimmering, cresting wall of water is part of what makes surfing both addictive and transformative. No coaches telling us what to do, no whistles being blown. The level of tension or joy within us depends on the mood of the ocean and how well we surf; but once up on a wave, we are free to choose any line we like and express ourselves. As such, many of us find surfing a creative way to deal with stress and other negative emotions.
Yet, from parking lot fights to bad vibes on the beach, some surfers take advantage of this freedom and view the lineup as a lawless territory they must protect. Having been in California eight months, I pulled up to my home break in New England the other day – where I’ve surfed for over 20 years – and some kid gave me the stink eye as though I’d just stolen his board.
Surfing attracts a wide swath of people, and by law of averages, must include a number of knuckleheads. But is it inherently selfish for a surfer to want the entire break to themselves? Is it egocentric to swear when a blob of beginners paddles into your purview when you’ve only got an hour? Is it self-centered to forbid people from swimming in surf zones, or get pissed when a petulant paddle boarder slides in early on the wave you’ve been patiently waiting on for 20 minutes?
Surfers have a reputation, inspired by classic movies like Point Break and guys from Miki Dora to former Pipe Master Johnny Boy Gomes, for being jerks. In the water it’s relatively common to hear people bitching at each other or see someone burning someone else. Surfer and bestselling writer Aaron James tells SURFER magazine that “…the asshole surfer makes up some entitlement to right of way in the lineup rather than relying on talent, wave knowledge, and hustle…” James acknowledges that whether the person is an old local or a “washed-up pro,” they still pollute our waters.
In fact, regardless of our otherwise sunny dispositions, many of us find surfing unearths our inner asshole as we silently scream under our breath at the out-of-state plates stealing in at our local spot, the kooks in the water espousing etiquette, and everything else keeping us from our waves. If you don’t see yourself in these depictions, you’re a better person than me. I back-paddled a guy the other day out of pure frustration. He was getting in position and then just not going, and after a while I stopped giving him the benefit of the doubt and took off. He called me out, and afterwards I realized I hadn’t made the situation better for anyone but myself. Maybe the guy was wasting waves and being an asshole; but in reality, I’d just created a second asshole: me.
Localism and etiquette exist for a reason, as does the idea that surfers help manage and oversee dangerous breaks. The ocean is not “ours;” but surfers thrive in areas where the waves are powerful and dangerous, not often places where untrained explorers should cast their lot. Other riders are often welcome, such as bodysurfers, depending on the break’s traits, but what separates these people from others is not only experience but knowledge. Throw an experienced swimmer who doesn’t know the spot out at my favorite reef break and they could easily break a leg, or worse.
“Back up, kook!”
It’s no secret that as the shores shrink, surfing’s numbers balloon. But it is how we react to these unstoppable changes that matters. Surfing with style requires focus and aggression, and sometimes those feelings translate to hostility. The guy who pulls in next to you, instead of saying “what’s up,” stares you down. Why? Maybe you’ve decided to try a new spot with a tightly knit lineup that goes back years. Or maybe the guy’s just a jerk. On the flip side, sometimes you pull in and strike up a convo with a stranger about the new board they’re stoked on, as I did the other day, and you feel as though you’re a part of something bigger than yourself.
We were all beginners once and we should all strive to be more accepting of them, provided they deign to embody our values: practice etiquette, don’t endanger others, understand where you should and should not paddle out. It’s helpful, not hurtful, that surfers use a pecking order to maintain order and consistency. The ocean is a medium with many moving parts, and the freedom of flying across a wave is offset by an increase in competition for quality rides amid wind, tides, weather and more. This means that it is harder and harder to ensure fairness and accessibility. Plus, surfing a wave even halfway decently provides such a formidable buzz that the better we get, the more we jostle for position.
If you’re not a surfer, and you haven’t had to work for a spot in the lineup, then surfing tenets like proving your worth to the regulars, defering to the locals, obeying the hierarchy, and routinely dealing with aggro wave-hogs who can be 10 years old or 60, may seem a bit much. But once you surf for a few years, your view will change. The ocean is free, but some safeguards must exist because the sea is dangerous and doesn’t give a shit whether you drown. Former managing editor of SURFER Magazine Janna Irons quips in Outside magazine: “Surfers can be territorial, aggressive jerks – especially to newbies. Though I’m not excusing that behavior, the instinct is partly for good reason: a beginner wielding a sharp surfboard they can’t control…puts everyone in danger.” Plus, some things in life still require people to show up, work hard, be consistent and persistent, and learn about themselves; as opposed to hiding behind the gutless comments they make on Instagram.
People can and will call surfers selfish, and rightfully assert that many of surfers’ “heroes” are decidedly unheroic. But surfing encompasses a large population, just like driving. Think about it: there are drivers from I-5 to the 95 who want to burn you in the right lane and don’t care if they run you over. There are also motorists who will pull you out of your burning car. Surfers are oft-maligned, but we have real heroes too, from Zade Stone-Hinds to Luke Shepardson and on and on. In fact, studies show that surfers are no strangers to saving lives.
Surfers are interminably flawed, corrupted by our devotion to an uncaring and unpredictable medium. Sometimes, we can all be assholes. Yet, we’re also attempting to preserve something sacred, something that provides millions of people across the world with joy, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.
