A psychedelic lineup at Uluwatu, Bali. Image: Weisberg
It is every surfer’s dream to one day have that slice of time devoted purely to exploring forgotten coastlines and hinting around rocky peaks. For many, this has been achieved through boarding an Indonesian boat charter and slowly meandering through the pleasure that such a country affords. For others, they have proceeded more organically through purely exploratory feats in wild and uncharted locations. For some, there is yet the experience of surfing amongst the treacherous beauty of an uncrowded wave. All know however, that the longing of crystal blue water, towering ice mountains behind the whip of your backhand, or full moon tidal river bores, draw out our imaginations. These now, due to relentless surfing media, seem to be forever getting closer to reality. Responsibilities can’t exactly be packed up in a box and placed into a storage container and therefore the practical reality of a three week journey through the fjords of Norway are still a little out of reach. However, with the stoking of our imaginations, the conversations that ripple through our communities, and the accessible information at our literal fingertips…it is all the more possible.
But what impact has this increased access had on the communities that even amateur surfers are visiting for extended periods of time? There are many examples of surfing exploration that lay in the past. For me, The Endless Summer and Morning of the Earth were at the forefront of my understanding the notion that separates “Surf Tourism” and “Surf Exploration.” From Gerry Lopez to Chris Burkard, some surfing trailblazers have pioneered the documentation of far-flung locations, making them seem ever more attractive.
There are always the conversations of overcrowded breaks that strangle the Maldives, aggression that is pushed from off-the-boat travelers throughout Indonesia, and even the snapping of boards from unsuspecting backpackers who dare venture down The Great Ocean Road (even in summer). It has also been said that villages that lay native claim to the very reef that a tourist is surfing upon are missing out on their slice of the pie due to the before mentioned boat jumpers. Let it be known that I am also not condemning those who wish to sail around the amazing islands of Indonesia, Fiji, or any other oceanic mantelpiece that permits a stoke, time is of the essence, luxury abounds, beers flow.
But is this negative impact completely felt in all destinations? PNG has actually been one such example, academically covered by Dr. Jess Ponting, documenting the now positive impact on villages that surround areas of Kavieng. These communities have benefitted through locally based surf clubs and tourist’s respectful generosity being well managed and readily opposed to major surfing tourism. This has created a sustainable framework surrounding growth and also a precedent for other developing surf tourism economies, such as the one I sit in now, residing in Kiribati. Another example of the positive impact of surfing tourists/workers/visitors is the story of those residing on Southern Patagonia’s West Coast. Produced by Eduardo Bartolome, “The Gift” showcases the story of two Patagonian young men who shred the tepid waters of Pucatribue, Chile. Remaining proud of their Huilliche Mapuche culture, having heard the stories of their grandfathers walk over The Andes many years before, now they weave and duck through freezing swells, booties engaged and hoods tight.
There may be no true way of completely measuring the economic impact that surfing has to an attractive destination. Although the beginnings of purely surfing economic zones and surfing national parks may begin to pave the way to legitimate measurement of these monetary factors. That is far away from the inception of the exploration of surfing when Martin Daly’s Indies Trader began its equatorial routes through the Lombok Straits. The main thing to take away from the utter difference between “travel” and “exploration” may remain subjective to some, but perhaps to those who view the visitor – the family watching those that weave between lines on the extent of their tribal land – is what should truly be witnessed. Just leave your board behind.
