Turns are great and all, but if you don’t go on the biggest sets, you’ll never get to ride gems like this. Photo: Evert van Duijn
Watching a large wall of water charge towards you is daunting. Turning your back on this rushing wall and attempting to catch it is borderline insanity. You may be tempted to allow this giant to pass by unridden. Or, maybe you’ve honed your acting skills and think you can fool the lineup by paddling with feigned intentions – half-assing those last few strokes and allowing the wave to slide underneath you. Bonus points for throwing your arms up in the air and swearing loudly. That will sell it.
But the only thing sold here is yourself because you didn’t send it.
Sure, there’s a chance you get pummeled so far underwater that you interrupt a Disney musical number led by a crustacean. This uncertainty is simultaneously a reason to hesitate and the exact reason to take off. Danger is sexy and the unknown is fun. And while we all share the common fears of shallow reefs, multiple wave hold downs, and angry locals accosting you in the parking lot for vague reasons, we also share the common desire to be thrilled. To not go is like proclaiming to the world your love for mediocrity and deep appreciation of the status quo.
Not taking off holds a far worse consequence than a wipeout – shame. If every opportunity to catch a frothy one has been laid out before you, and you allow it to pass because it’s a little out of your comfort zone, then a torrential shame shower will be unleashed from the sky. The lineup will know you only as a coward. The ocean, sensing your fear, will target you and send more large sets your way, rubbing it in. But you won’t take those either, instead choosing to paddle into shore, tail between your legs.
Word of your failure gets back to your family and they decide to stage an intervention. For your comfort, this will take place in a small to medium-sized venue. There, an ultimatum will be issued from your grandmother: “You’ve gotta go big, or else you will not be allowed to come home.” The wipeout seems preferable.
Refusing to send it also carries legal ramifications. I’m no lawyer, but I’m fairly certain you are required by law in the state of Hawaii and parts of California to send it on any sendable-sized wave. The precedent for this was made in the case of Toledo vs Teahupo’o in 2019, where failure to drop in on the gnarliest sets revoked Toledo’s surfing rights. Not sending it provides you no recourse in Poseidon’s court when other surfers swoop in and steal your bombs.
This is by no means an indictment on smaller waves – they are a blast to ride and what most of us spend 95 percent of our surfing lives enjoying. And they can be spiced up with twirly bird 720s, snippety snaps, and whatever witchcraft this is. But while throwing buckets is skillful and enjoyable, it is not thrilling. A larger wave carries more weight because of its black and white simplicity: you either make it or you don’t. It’s a greater accomplishment standing toe to trough with a more precarious side of nature.
Surfing is about pushing yourself. From the very beginning, you are forced to accept that the only way you will learn is through brutal, repeated failure. And from your first wave to your millionth, surfing will always find new and interesting ways to make you feel uncomfortable. It’s kind of like that one Chumbawumba song – a repetitious life of getting knocked down, getting back up again, and drinking the same four elixirs to wash away the pain. To walk away from a wave because it makes you feel uncomfortable is contradictory to the sport you signed up for in the first place.
So send it, brah. Get committed to pitted. Dig deep inside yourself and summon the inner yewwwww!!! Because you are here to take chances and challenge yourself, not perform some aquatic safety dance.
