“Looks okay. But at least it’ll be an adventure.” Photo: Jessica Wong//Unsplash
Surf travel is dead. This would likely be written on the cover of every surf magazine on sale inside every supermarket in town except print surf media is largely dead, too. You can take these observations and spin them into a web of despair, or you can see them as the ashes through which to rise, like a Phoenix, and blaze your own path in this Brave New World.
I have chosen to do the latter. I admit I’m hardly exempt from falling victim to the surfing-was-better-a-decade-ago mentality, especially when scootering through the crowded streets of Bali or attempting to paddle out at Waikiki (or, really, anywhere in Ala Moana or the entire South Shore). But I have never given up on surf adventure.
My decision not to give up on surf adventure can mostly be attributed to the fact that surf adventure is markedly different from surf travel. Surf travel is simply the act of traveling a distance to surf. Definitions of what travel consists of may vary. For this discussion, I am referring to page 407 of the Journal of Sustainable Tourism, specifically, Ralf Buckley’s article Surf Tourism and Sustainable Development in Indo-Pacific Islands, where Buckley defines surf tourism as “when surfers travel at least 40 kilometers and stay overnight with surfing as the primary purpose for travel.”
Surf adventure, on the other hand, does not have a travel requirement. The Merriam Webster Dictionary defines adventure as, a: an undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks, b: the encountering of risks, or, c: an exciting or remarkable experience. Now, I don’t believe risk is absolutely necessary, as novelty can be created virtually anywhere.
I compare these definitions in detail because it is important in explaining how surf adventure can be a viable option for surfers whose goal is excitement while surf travel cannot. It is also important to note that the location of where one surfs is completely irrelevant to knowing how fun, exciting, risky, or adventurous a surf trip will be.
I argue that surf adventure is still wide open in 2024 as long as one is willing to change their routine, go to less desirable locations, be willing to travel with different people besides other surfers, seek travel recommendations from places besides surf guides, and lower one’s wave expectations when needed (surf adventure can come from things besides the act of surfing itself).
A common complaint about surf travel is that everywhere worth traveling to has already been explored. Places that were once the stuff of dreams have been reduced to tourist wastelands: Uluwatu, Indonesia; Tamarindo, Costa Rica; La Libertad, El Salvador. I am not going to argue that these places are the same as they once were. Uluwatu is currently undergoing immense destruction. Tamarindo, which was once a haven for West Coast surf travelers, is barely a better surfing destination than Huntington Beach nowadays. La Libertad suffers the weekend crowd just the same as San Onofre.
However, I would like to point out a pattern here. Most of the idyllic, exotic locations surfers lust after are dreamy for reasons beyond the perfect waves. The weather is nice, the beaches are white, and the food, beer, and lodging is (or used to be) cheap. However, adventure is still very much accessible at less desirable locations worldwide.
You rarely hear surfers fantasizing about putting on a 6/5 and heading to Canada for uncrowded barrels. You rarely watch movies about surfers venturing off to strange cities in search of perfect logging waves. You almost never hear about people camping out in search of a mysto East-Coast sandbar. Why? Because all of these things — and locations – require work. Work to reach them, work to stay there, and work to find the easy pleasure in the trip itself. I suppose what I’m asking is when people say they want a surf adventure, do they really want the adventure, or do they want the vacation?
Swap the boardshorts for a full suit and the boat trip in the Ments for a boat trip in Alaska and you have yourself an adventure. And no, cold-water surfing is not “played out” just because the pros have done it. It probably won’t be for a while. Cold-water spots are not “unknown” or “unexplored.” They’ve been surfed. They’re simply more adventurous.
Cold-water surfing has already been popularized by photographers such as Chris Burkhard with photos of surfers biking down frozen beaches and riding waves backed by snow-covered mountains. One reason that cold-water spots remain less crowded than breaks in Southern California, Puerto Rico, or Hawai’i is simply because they require more effort to access. Safety knowledge, proper equipment, and heartiness are required to surf in Alaska or Canada or the Northeast.
Another reason cold-water surfing probably won’t blow up the same way surfing did in the tropics is the lack of immediate appeal. Cold-water surfing is Type II fun. It’s not something weekend warriors or office-workers slap pictures of on their cubicles to make it through Friday. It’s not something families are going to add to their Christmas vacation itinerary (good luck convincing kids it’s fun to be cold and wet!).
Besides seeking out more challenging locations to find adventure, there are plenty of ways to find adventure at home. No matter where you surf, you can always change your routine, open your mind to new definitions of novelty, and experience new sensations without boarding a flight.
Cyrus Sutton and Ryan Burch took this idea to the extreme with their 2010 documentary Stoked and Broke. Described as a “staycation surfari on zero dollars,” Sutton and Burch embark on a 30-day, eight-day walk through San Diego to find adventure in their own backyards. Their point is clear: you don’t need lots of time, money, or travel to have fun and find novel experiences. You just need an open mind and a willingness to allow risk into your plans. Their point resonated strongly with audiences. The film has a perfect five-star rating across over 400 reviews on The Surf Network.
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Another way to find adventure in already explored destinations is to change your itinerary. Surf adventure can be an adventure in surfing, or it can be an adventure with surfing. Costa Rica, for example, is mostly explored in terms of surf spots. But if the goal of the trip changes to become yoga-instructor certified (Gerry Lopez, one of surfing’s greats, enjoys yoga, so it’s not a random side-quest) and score some warm, point-break waves down south? Or to sensation seek in the form of trying new Caribbean foods on the other coast of CR and hope to score some barrels while you’re on the food tour? To see political situations for yourself and to surf with people in war-torn places you read about every day? Or even just to brave the museums of coastal Europe in between sessions with your very historically interested parents? Now it’s an adventure.
Another way to find surf adventure in the 21st century is simply to look for it… yourself. Maybe it sounds obvious, but surf magazines, tour guides, and YouTube channels are not going to give up the gems out there. You have to look for yourself. The negative of Google Earth is that everything is accessible without going there in person. The positive of Google Earth is also that everything is accessible without going there in person.
Curious about a little cove? See a point you’ve never seen mentioned in your surf book? Check it out without buying a plane ticket. Half the fun (and a lot of the adventure) of surf travel is the planning, the wondering, and the romanticizing. In the 21st century, you can do all of those for free, and still have the adventure afterwards.
Lastly, a big part of finding adventure is lowering one’s expectations. This doesn’t have to be depressing. In fact, it can be incredibly liberating. Ironically, some of my favorite surf trips have consisted of little to no surfing due to a lack of swell. Exploring new cultures, food, languages, and everything else there is to do when the waves go flat can be fun. At the end of the day, no one controls the weather, and all you can do is control your mindset.
Personally, lowering my wave expectations allowed me to make friends floating down rivers in tires in the remote jungle of Indonesia, burn Yucca leaves in the Baja desert instead of checking Surfline every hour to see if the swell changed, and learn how to paint using watercolors. The adventure itself had nothing to do with the location, all of which have been surfed and traveled to before. The best part? The waves always come back when you’re in the middle of having an adventure.
