Who showed you the way? Photo: Reed Naliboff
There’s a trope in surfing often called the “lone surfer.” This charger lives in between the lines and only surfs where others are not. While we all live this archetype at times, no one was born a lone surfer.
Everyone truly learned to surf from someone else. Your dad, auntie or uncle, older brother or sister, best friend… and hopefully not from an instructor who also teaches yoga on the side (I kid!).
The surf guru is the person who taught you the art of the score. How to find all of those secluded spots in your local coastline. How to push your limits in new waves. And how to have more fun.
For me, that character is Bob (featured in the story “Baptism of Fire”). Bob and I grew up playing in the same ice hockey organization in California. He is a few years older than me, so we had a few interactions here and there, but really didn’t know each other.
Then Bob and I played on the same travel team out in Boston. Even though we were roommates in the same apartment, we often fought and ended up throwing hands one day in the locker room. That night we smoked the peace pipe. I noticed he was using a Surfer’s Journal magazine to ash onto. The rest is history.
Bob and I spent the next summer surfing our brains out. At the time I lived in south San Francisco, and he was in Half Moon Bay. We would take turns trading off our favorite spots. I have to admit, his were largely more adventurous and unique.
During that first summer of surf, we’d often meet at a secret spot. You park in a dirt lot, walk down a private road — past horses and peacocks — and into a small community. It’s a sharky reef break, with plenty of good waves. I can still hear Bob mocking the peacock’s call, and remember bringing carrots down to the horses on the road during those brisk and sunny California mornings.
Armed with long, curly, almost poodle-like blonde hair, a deep sonorous voice, and a nose for wanderlust, Bob is a surfer’s surfer. He did the time-honored trips to the North Shore, Mexico, Indo, and then the less explored ones to Ireland, New York, and even India. He has a unique style — always low to his board until he leans into a turn — and can do it all switchfoot.
He’s a natural on a board. I recall a day that Bob forgot his fins. I was bummed, thinking he would go home, but he didn’t blink. He paddled out and caught a jacked up four-foot wave and held his rail all the way in. Not one spin…I was impressed.
Bob represents the things I’ve come to love about surfing: youth, mischief, and growth.
Whenever I come home, instead of calling up Bob, we seem to just find each other in the lineup. One of us will cruise down the highway and see the other’s car in the lot and just paddle out. Even in our 30s, we meet up at the beach like kids would in the neighborhood, stopping and barging into whatever house they found their friend’s bikes parked at.
Once in the water, Bob has a few funny habits. We always surf remote breaks, usually caked in fog. One day was particularly odd. All of the sea life — seals, elephants seals, dolphins, fish, you name it — played on the inside of the reef. It was a cacophony of sea life songs. The fog sat low and covered the area outside the reef.
Once on the outside Bob and I couldn’t see the shore. He turned to me and with a cheeky smile said, “It sure feels sharky out here today bud.” Then proceeded to immediately catch a wave in. Of course, a lull ensued and I had to sit out there alone with my dread. After getting a wave in, and laughing at the merry prank, we decided to celebrate with a morning hooray of 40-ounce beers in town.
Surfing offers plenty of these moments — the kind where you can either shy away or embrace it. It’s an amazing feeling to overcome a moment of fear, whether it be in bigger waves than you are used to, or adventuring into new waters. This kind of growth not only helps you grow as a surfer, but it helps you grow as a person. And sharing that experience with someone else is radical.
