Not the best spot to be in if you’re paddling out. Photo: Marcus Dall Col
Before the Bout
The idea for this piece hit me like a haymaker to the face during a mobbed morning surf session a few weeks ago. Some sessions just start out well, and for the first hour, I kept finding myself in the right wave at the right time. Flow state, stars aligned – whatever you want to call it; I was surprisingly dialed in.
Then, well, an…incident occurred. Er, shall we say…two…incidents.
Before we get to the beatdown, let’s backtrack.
How and why do surfing collisions occur? First, even being an average surfer requires fierce mental dexterity. For example, when we’re paddling out, we’re making sure to stay out of the way of others as we navigate an erratic environment and sort out where to post up. When we’re in position, we’re searching out the angle for the best ride while staying aware of potential dangers.
Many of our moves come down to split-second judgement calls. Consider that late drop you crashed and burned on recently: were you trying to squeeze in one more wave before running to work? Or had you missed the last wave and said, “screw it, I’m going,” confident you could make the free-fall?
All humans, and all surfers, make mistakes. Missteps, however, can be costly in a sport that, despite its association with Zen and mellow vibes, is eternally linked to localism and therefore the looming specter of violence. Yet, in surfing, aggression is a key attribute. Passive surfers who sit on the shoulder don’t score as many waves as more aggressive surfers who sit at the peak and challenge for every ride.
When you think about it, it’s a credit to all surfers – pros to kooks – that there aren’t more crack-ups out there.
What? It sounds like I’m rationalizing?
Damn right I am, Rocky.
Ding: Round One!
The first “incident” occurred on a long, dreamy left. The kind of wave that makes it alright to head in after and face the day, the kind of wave that replays in your head before you fall asleep. I was monumentally self-absorbed when something swiped my board and I flipped over and dropped like a sack of potatoes, then landed hard atop something that was definitely not the ocean.
Had I stabbed a dolphin? Slashed a hearty kelp bed like a fork through kale?
A woman suddenly popped up, disheveled, gasping for breath. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, as we scrambled to avoid each other in the whitewash. “Are you OK?”
“No worries! You alright?” I said.
“I’m fine!” she said, and satisfied, we paddled away to our respective posts.
Wait, where did you come from, I fought the urge to call out, the bottom of the ocean?
It was only when I checked the Cam Rewind hours later that I realized that as I sped left to make the section, the woman on the right attempted a bold duck-dive. The wave had other plans and it blew up on her, yanking her backwards into my path and using her body as a bowling ball and my legs for pins.
No harm, no foul. No one injured, no one enraged. Not all head-on collisions end up this way, though.
Ding: Round Two!
A bit dazed, I paddled back out. The sets had grown bigger and more consistent, the crowd was tighter and my back ached. I edged inside to grab a quick one in, but the wave I chose closed out, and I decided it would be sacrilege to end such a sick session there.
Mistake number one.
Back out again as a big, eager dude on an old longboard stroked by, hair still dry. BOOM, suddenly the biggest set of the day appeared on the horizon. I was hopelessly out of position, so I paddled hard towards the shoulder with spaghetti arms. Around me, the lineup shifted and rippled anxiously in the sheen of the late morning sun.
As I furiously paddled, the longboarder who’d passed me posted up right in front of me, and as the steep wave lifted him, he turned and hesitated, staring down the face.
In that instant, my brain misfired a round of rapid, incorrect assumptions. One: he’s not taking that late drop, so no need to change direction. Two: he sees me trying to get out of the way.
What happened next felt both impossible and inevitable. I continued trying to haul ass and the longboarder stood up and bared down like a steam engine. In a bone-crunching instant of realization and regret, he skewered me like surfer satay.
It was my turn to pop up, gasping, the wave having pummeled me worse than the dude’s Hobie. “My bad, man,” I said, a rush of shame offsetting the pins and needles flooding my right arm.
My new amigo slashed his arms through the water and let fly a red-faced flutter of vitriol with enough energy to tell me that at least his mouth had survived.
“What the fuck!? Are you kidding? You ran right into me! You-”
At this point, I may have lost some of my patience. I told the guy to just relax a second, Champ. When he continued spitting seaweed, I may have let fly a few ten-dollar words of my own.
“But you said your bad!” he huffed. “You didn’t even ask if I was OK!”
He’s totally right, I thought. “Are you OK?” I said idiotically as we dodged incoming waves.
“No!” He shouted, and took off, announcing what had happened to every other person in California.
Dejected, I rode a wave in on my belly.
Winners and Losers: Round 1
The subaquatic stranger in Round #1 crushed it in ways I can only aspire to.
If we’re forced to assign blame, we could potentially say that her duck dive was mistimed – and optimistic, on that plush soft-top. I, too, should have been more aware on a day that crowded, as opposed to being wrapped up in the eternal sunshine of my backside carve.
Her reaction, though, stole the show. She admitted blame instantly, didn’t get angry, and asked if I was alright. Get that woman a free bar of wax, Alex!
Winners and Losers: Round 2
Crash Course number two was my fault, for sure. I made wrong assumptions and in trying to get out of the way, I panicked and got in the soft-spoken stranger’s way. Even worse, my combative reaction sucked.
Yet, I’ve been in that guy’s position plenty of times and pulled out of the wave because someone was in my cross-hairs and a fender-bender was inevitable. In his excitement to score his first wave, my dude didn’t look up. Still, he shouldn’t have needed to.
Hit the Showers
The first incident taught me to be more aware and humbler, and to remember that the most essential thing to do after a fin-bender is to make sure everyone is alright.
The second incident taught me not to assume I know what others are thinking, not to panic, and above all, not to give in to my temper or become defensive when I’m pissed at myself for kooking out.
Both crack-ups also highlighted matter how many times I surf per week, I still sometimes move like one of those cheerfully sadistic wacky waving-arms tube men. Meaning, I still have a lot to learn. Always will.
Lastly, these divergent collision courses illustrate that no matter how many decisions we make in life, we still make some of them errantly, and that is because we’re all imperfect beings at heart.
There’s some Zen for ya, huh?
Editor’s Note: The author was not featured in the video or photo above. Those are just a few of the plethora of others who’ve had similar experiences
