Somewhere on the island. Photo: Haro
Being a surfer in Victoria, BC is a little bit like being a member of a secret society. We lurk everywhere. We’re your neighbor. We’re your employee. We’re the people who disappear in the early morning or mid-afternoon when the buoys are showing a perfect west swell. When the forecast comes in you’ll see us start the migration to our favorite spots, driving away from the city in our cars, jeeps, pickups, and vans, easily recognizable thanks to the boards strapped on the roof.
It’s the distance that keeps us apart. Best case: the closest reliable break is an hour and fifteen-minute drive from Victoria, meaning there is a huge journey to tackle before we’re even in the water. This, among other things, makes Victoria a little different from other “surf towns” in the world. “It’s hard to have that community feeling because all the surfers are so spread out,” says Kiyo, a rep at Sitka, one of Victoria’s local surf shops. If we’re not at the break, or reliving our last session with our close friends, we are isolated from each other, making the disconnection more than just geographical.
Surfing “is very personal and, I hate to say it, greedy,” Kiyo goes on to say. “And the long drive means we each want our fair share of waves. But here’s the paradox of it all: Being out there, facing the reality that ‘we all have to surf together’ actually ends up creating something of a bond between us – even when, like the long drive to the break – it keeps us apart in so many ways. Sure, it’s not like when you see a surfboard on another car you say ‘Hey, man’ and give them a wave.”
It’s a little different once we are actually there, at the spot, where everyone is quick to say “hello” and ask how the day’s been going.
The longer I surf at Jordan River, the popular local spot, the more friendly people I meet, and the more we chat about the last epic swell. Grabbing a slice at Far Out Pizza, a coffee at Jordan River’s Cold Shoulder Café, or Shirley Delicious, or just hanging out in the parking lot after a session, is when the tribe comes together. We might stick to our own groups as we change out of our wetsuits or grab a beer, only to float around, chatting with others as we share our experiences and resist the need to get back in the car and make our way back to Victoria.
In a city where Kiyo guesses about 1% of the population surfs, where the drive out to waves can be a completely solitary experience, there are only a few small community hubs. Sitka itself was founded by two surfers looking to build more of an in-town base, and with Victoria’s other surf shops and shapers HtO, Coastlines, Barracuda, and Anián (who throw monthly parties at their shop), there is always the chance to share a story or get some tips while you pick up a repair kit or wax.
But when the waves are flat and our hair is dry you’d never know that we are among you.
