It’s a common question: what is a surfer? The answer varies, depending on your perspective. Here’s mine.
I see my surfing life as a series of pictures, or short videos; flashes of memory across the span of my life. My first image is from 1966 riding a “foamie” in the surf a half-dozen times at Crystal Pier in Pacific Beach. I recall the power of the waves, the thrill of a high-speed drop, and the chaos of the white water. Ultimately my foamie broke. But the ocean made a strong impression on me and four years later, when I moved back to PB, it compelled me to surf again. Then, at 13, I had the freedom (and my mother’s permission) to pursue surfing full-time over the summer of 1970. And that I did: living at the beach full-time, every day, perfecting the art of surfing. Some would say this is when I became a surfer. I don’t disagree. Young, free of obligations, the warm waters of SoCal beckoning: the timing was perfect.
I was an obsession that completely took over my life for the next 12 years. I lived to surf, everything else was secondary. Wake up, check the surf. If it was good that was my day, which including exploring for hours to find anything worth riding. In between swells it was surf magazines, surf stories, skating, surf art, surf chicks, surf adventures. The only thing that ever came close to replacing the surfing was surf photography, which lead to my obsession to document everything with film. This of course lead to surf film nights which created synergy with everything in my life. I was on the path of surfing but didn’t notice that other priorities were slowly pushing their way into my life.
Enter my career. Subtly, over time and through my bonds with the sea, my focus transitioning into marine biology, my next obsession. Like most surfers, I decided I couldn’t support my life through surfing and sought a path that would keep me close to the sea. It was a good choice. Beginning with graduate school in 1982, my interests evolved. I first studied the rocky shores, then the underwater kelp forests and coral reefs while SCUBA diving, and ultimately the deep-sea bottom with a submersible. Slowly, surfing became secondary to my intellectual pursuits.
During these decades I transitioned from surfing weekly (early 80s) to monthly or less (late 80s to mid-90s). Married in 1988 with children in 1992 and 1995, although living in Hawaii, my time became limited to a few times per year. Eventually, in the 2000s, health issues reduced my surfing to every year or two. As I write this post, I haven’t been in the lineup for five years. … but I know I will return.
Because … I am a surfer. I am bound to live near the sea and feel the day-to-day rhythms of the ocean. I need to smell the water, hear the wind and the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. Every day I must see and feel the swells arrive and depart, watch them create synergy with the tides and the reefs. If I’m not near the sea I die a little. It’s in my blood and part of my soul, and always will be. I am forever tied to the ocean, the surf, and not a day goes by that I don’t look at the water and remember my days surfing.
One look and I think of the smell and feel of being in the water. The crisp waves washing over as I paddle out, the cold water flooding my wetsuit, the sharp smell of the water, the ache in my arms as I scramble outside, the sharp fear as a set catches me inside, the thrill of a great wave. But most of all I remember the feeling as my board slides down the wave’s face, the energy surging through me, then turning and tucking under the lip as it keels over. The utter perfection and solace of being completely inside the wave, safe in its womb, a brief but intimate moment where time stands still. At night, endless dreams of glassy swells early in the morning. Small but super fun. Just me and a close friend grabbing waves as the sun rises and the offshore wind picks up as others appear on the beach to watch. The thrill of riding a nice wave — ripping — as those on the beach and in the water hoot and holler. It’s an age-old, endless dream and never gets old.
To me that is surfing and as a surfer it is forever a part of who I am. Surfing has been one of the biggest inspirations of my life. It has changed me in ways I can’t begin to understand: it has taught me respect and patience, kept me in good physical shape, influencing who my friends were and where I lived, focused my interests, and was the inspiration for my career in marine biology. And yet — and this is its charm — it is amazingly free; pure fun dependent only the wind blowing across the sea and my ability to paddle out and catch a wave. The ocean asks nothing in return but gives everything.
So what is a surfer?
- Is it that kid that caught a few waves but remembers it forever?
- Is it a life dedicated to surfing above all else?
- Is it someone who occasionally gets in the water while balancing career and family life?
- Is it someone who lives close to sea but rarely surfs?
- Is it someone who surfed long ago but doesn’t anymore?
I don’t believe there’s an answer because it’s different to everyone. To some it is an art, a sport, a religion, a profession, an addiction, something you do on vacation. Maybe it’s the biggest thing in your life, maybe it’s your entire life, or just an occasional joy. Who am I to judge? Who are you to judge?
Ultimately, it is up to each of us to place surfing in the context of our lives and understand it’s importance. Sure, we have our opinions but ultimately the soul of surfing, what it means to you, is an intensely personal perspective. If you live in the memories of surfing and/or still surf or crave to be in the water, then you are a surfer, and always will be in my opinion. Perhaps the better question is how surfing has inspired and changed your life. Only you can answer that question. Ride on my friends! Ride on!