Surf Is Where You Find It (Revised and Expanded)

A standup paddleboard is just a big surfboard and another way to ride a wave. All ways are fun, but sometimes the new way can be a lot of fun in a different way. Photo: John Wrenn

Yesterday I scored big. It was one of those rare days that left me so pumped up when it was over that I knew I was going to have trouble falling asleep that night. I figured I better write it down before the afterglow faded; that way I could savor it again and again. One of the sad things about surfing is that the best memories are fleeting. Before one knows it, the memories have all but disappeared, erased like they never existed. Sometimes when the focus of the ride is so intense, the concentration so great, it seems as though they don’t even get recorded.

Many times I have finished a wave to find a blank space in my mind about what just occurred during that ride. Although peculiar, it happens with great regularity. By carefully recalling the few moments of actual thoughts, like the decision to catch that wave, or maybe an incident like someone in the way or a person yelling, or maybe working backward from that point at the end of the wave, I can piece together the whole ride. But often as not, if there is some distraction, like another set coming, or just not having that moment to reflect back, then that ride may as well be gone. It did happen, and how it unfolded possibly went into one of those many file cabinets of the mind, but the key to access that drawer is lost. Even as I sat there and wrote only a day afterward, recollections of those waves had begun to go hazy.

The easy part to remember is what got me there. In the buildup of most surf stories, the foundation is usually the waves. These days, with Internet surf forecasting, checking the surf has taken on an entirely new meaning. In the first several decades of my surfing career, I simply looked out at the sea and decided whether to paddle out or not. Now that I live farther from the ocean, things are more complicated.

Modern satellite imagery, storm information, and sophisticated marine buoys that monitor swell direction and height, wave interval, and wind speeds make amateur forecasting pretty simple. Of course, there are also professionals who make a business doing the same thing. For a fee, or even for free, one touch of the keyboard and the information to make that same decision days in advance is quickly available.

A big swell was coming, that much all the various forecasting services had agreed on. A storm in the Gulf of Alaska had made it a certainty. The wind and surface conditions forecast also looked favorable. Webcams make it easy to check current conditions, giving a picture of exactly the same view I used to have from shore. Whether I’m on the beach or 200 miles away, the decision is as it always was: Should I go or should I stay? This time I pulled the trigger, loaded up my stuff, and hit the road.

Less than four hours later, I had my first real look. My expectations were slightly deflated, but still the surf wasn’t bad. It had size and the wind was enough offshore for the wave faces to be clean. The spot I was at, although the closest to my home, was my second choice. A friend reported an unfavorable wind at my first choice in an early-morning phone call.

I wrestled into my wetsuit and paddled out on my standup board. The waves were well overhead, but mushy and hard to catch, with an ill-defined lineup. On my standup board, I had better luck than the surfers on regular boards, but the session proved lackluster.

Three hours later, I had changed back into dry clothes and was ready to go somewhere else but couldn’t decide where. I finally got through to my friend up north, but his report still was not encouraging.

Plagued by indecision, I ran through my options. The surf was coming up, and the wind should continue to come from a good direction (although the approaching storm would increase it dramatically). What the heck, I had nothing more important to do, and all the next day to do it. I headed north rather than head home.

The next morning, in the predawn grey, I strained to see what the waves were doing. First indications looked small. As it became lighter, it was obviously very small. This spot wasn’t picking up the waves like the break I had been at yesterday. Hoping the swell would be coming soon, I suited up, got out my surfboard, took the long walk down the beach, and paddled out to join the other dawn patrollers at the outside lineup.

Six or seven surfers were already clustered in the lineup, but the only waves I saw were chest-high at the biggest and not very consistent. The anticipation was high and the crowd amped, but there was nothing to spend their pent-up energy on. Every once in a while a single wave, or maybe a set of two, would roll in, but that was it. Definitely not enough to go around for the growing number of surfers with expectations of a lot more than was available. Two hours later and only three weak waves to my tally, I surrendered. As I walked back with several of the guys who lived there, they all spoke of the buoy readings that morning of thirty-foot waves with fifteen-second intervals: significant indicators. We were all puzzled by the lack of surf.

I changed out of my wetsuit and put away my surfboard. Driving out of the side street I had parked on, I started to head away, but on an impulse, swung into the parking area facing the inside break for one last look. It had started to drizzle, but the wind was still lightly offshore. Some guys were surfing the inside on longboards and fishes, and as I watched, I saw a few of them get some nice long rides on waist-high waves. My morning had not gone as I had hoped, but with my standup board, I figured I could salvage something from the day. I wear a thinner wetsuit when I ride my standup board because I generally don’t get as wet, and the suit was dried out from the session the day before. I slipped into the fresh wetsuit, unstrapped my big board, grabbed the paddle, and headed out.

The few surfers in the lineup were friendly and curious, having never seen a standup board here before. It was perfect for it; most of the waves hardly broke, but they stood up enough for me to catch and ride for a long way. Now I was catching a lot of waves and having a lot of fun; the dismal beginning to the morning was brightening up. The entire time, I kept an eye on the outside spot where one by one, the surfers there gave it up and got out for lack of waves.

Finally, the outer lineup was empty and I saw a nice-looking wave come through. It was probably only chest-high and there was only one, but it wasn’t far to paddle on the standup board. I started to head that way, but just then, the wave I had seen on the outside moved inside and it was the biggest one yet. I turned my board, paddled hard, and caught it. I hung around the inside break after that, but every once in awhile, one at a time, a nice wave would roll through the outer spot. About a minute later it would roll into the inside as a bigger wave. The surf was good enough at the spot I was at, but I thought sooner rather than later I should take the half-mile paddle to the outside break for a closer look, and so I headed out. While the lineup I was headed for was mostly empty of waves, it was also devoid of surfers. It was also a nice morning for a paddle.

Just as I got close enough to really see what was going on, I noticed a single surfer who must have just paddled out. It let the wind out of my sails a bit: The local surfers here have a reputation of being very protective of their break. I didn’t think this surfer would take kindly to a standup board in his lineup.

Right then, a significant-looking set loomed up outside. We both paddled to intersect it. The first wave was a solid five feet and nicely lined-up. The other surfer was too far inside and had to let it go, but there was another just like it behind. I waited and let him take first pick; I could see there was a third wave out the back. He caught his wave and I swung around for the next. Both were awesome waves, the best of the day by far. I rode mine for a long way until it petered out to nothing along the rocky shoreline.

I paddled out to where the other surfer sat waiting, said hello, and asked if he had seen any other sets like that one. I figured he would probably either ignore me or tell me to get the hell out of there with my big board. But he surprised me with a friendly greeting and shrugged in reply to my question, saying it was the first set he had seen. He went on to suggest that maybe it was indeed coming up, and we might be lucky enough to enjoy a brief window of good waves with no one else out. From my standing vantage point, I saw another set approaching and pointed it out to him.

The next set was better, slightly bigger, with more waves, and again we both caught great waves. As I paddled back out, another set loomed. And so it went, one set after another in rapid succession, the waves increasing in size with each new set. A very nice wave showed outside and I paddled hard for position.

Well outside of any of the previous waves, I did a quick turn around to set up my takeoff. It was the biggest wave so far and not one to take chances on. The wave here breaks very close to a rocky shore. One mistake on the big board and I would be caught inside and washed on to the rocks.

I glimpsed another surfer joining our twosome; it was my friend whom I had called the afternoon before. He had passed on the early-morning session, using better judgment than the rest of us, and had shown up now, at exactly the right moment. I carefully caught the next wave deep, turned hard at the top, and drove down the line. The wall reared up ahead of me threateningly, but my line and trim speed were good, and I flew down the line close to the curl but safely in front of it.

For the next hour, we all got as many excellent waves as we could ride. Those two paid some dues, taking off late and getting pitched, then eating the waves behind. But the interval between waves was long, even, and predictable; the sets and lulls were very defined. The wind continued to puff lightly offshore, combing the wave faces into a perfect texture. I kept thinking I should go in and exchange my standup board for a regular surfboard, but that would necessitate a forty-five-minute round-trip. I was having the time of my life right then and wasn’t sure I wanted to sacrifice any of it for a surfboard and wetsuit change.

Other surfers came out, but everyone was friendly and more than a little awed by the growing surf, which continued to sprout taller with each new set. Some of the sets began to take on a serious demeanor. Ten foot, top to bottom, is about the maximum the place can hold; after that it starts to break on an outer reef and loses its form. At the moment, though, it was still in top shape and without letup.

The sets were lasting longer than the lulls. I would pick what I thought was the best and biggest one, well outside the surfers, ride it a long way in, and watch wave after wave peel through as I paddled back out. If any surfer looked interested in any of the waves I paddled for, I yelled for them to go and pulled back: There were plenty more waves coming.

My friend had to go to a meeting for his job and caught one final wave in. As he was climbing out on the rocks inside, I took a huge one from way outside. It peeled perfectly, and I just stood tall in the curl, dragging my paddle slightly to slow down. I pulled out even with where he was standing on shore and he let out a hoot.

On the paddle back out I passed another surfer paddling in. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t comfortable. I asked if everything was okay, and he answered that he was in over his head.

I told him to keep a watch over his shoulder so a wave behind him didn’t pick him off.

For another hour the waves continued to increase in intensity. I was amazed that my big board was handling the waves so well. Of course, the waves were smooth, peeling, and pretty doggone flawless. Then a set showed almost on the horizon, much bigger than any so far. I looked at the surfers, but only one of them, a guy near my age, saw what I saw. We eased over toward the shoulder and moved outside. The younger surfers finally noticed the set and our outside position. They put their heads down and paddled hard for safety.

The first waves were good, but inside of us. Outside of where we waited, bigger ones danced, masked by the waves in front. Several waves went by, and we were finally confronted by one of the big ones. It had broken on the outer second reef, but I was far enough outside to make a move for it. I spun around and just managed to stroke down the face. The drop was endless and very bouncy. I hung on, using the paddle for balance and finally reached the bottom. I thought I had dropped down too far as the wave ahead started to break above me. I leaned into a turn, slicing the paddle deep for leverage, and swung around the section. Once back up on the wall, I could easily chase down the looming sections ahead. Far down the line, I pulled out and found myself shaking as though I had a fever.

I paddled back out. More sets kept coming. With the paddle, my takeoffs were clean, early, and easy. The clean surface conditions let me read what the wave would do, and I had plenty of time to react. A dark thought of what would quickly happen should I fall tried to creep into my consciousness, but I continued to push it aside. If I got trapped inside, I would be dragged along the rocky shoreline into a very dangerous situation where my only hope would be to abandon both board and paddle. I didn’t want to even go there in my mind. I knew the board was maxed out; the fins were humming like crazy. Although it had gone fast enough to make all the waves, I had it redlined and could ask no more from it.

The waves still came, and from each set one would beckon to me like the Lorelei, and I would be drawn to ride it. Four hours had gone by quickly. The surf had grown faster than I had ever seen waves come up before while still holding perfect shape, even on the North Shore. I guess all those surf predictions and buoy reports had been right.

I began to think that maybe it was time to call it a day. Just as those thoughts were going through my mind, the set of the day appeared far out to sea. Suddenly outer reefs were breaking where none had shown before. I looked at the other old guy, and I sensed that we both had the same thought at exactly the same time. This was the end of it. The surf had surged up in a hurry but managed to hold its form up until now. Even at a glance I could see this set, still far out to sea, would be out of control when it reached me.

Once again I eased toward the shoulder and outside and the other surfers followed. The inevitable was upon us all. The surf was expected to reach the twenty-foot range, and it looked like it was doing just that with this approaching set. The wind suddenly increased and rain pelted down. Poseidon had stuck his trident into the sea and the storm exploded.

The set moved upon us, but we were safely beyond its grasp, well outside. The waves had lost all their previous good form. These were stormy and rough, full of boils and bumps. I wanted no more of it. Up until now, my big board and paddle had been an advantage over the small boards of the others. But I quickly realized, as the unruly set came on, the tables had turned and my advantage had just become a severe liability. I had an idea and paddled inside of the group. A smaller twelve-foot wave in the set came within reach and I paddled hard to get it. I just managed to pick it up and rode down the face, away from the rest of the set and the danger—if I could just keep my feet and wits about me.

As I rode down the line, it came to me that this was the biggest wave I had ridden at this spot. It kept going farther in and when it started to hit deeper water again, it started to back off; by paddling hard, I managed to stay in it. I realized I was far enough inside that I would be entering the in-between break. Here the wave hugs the rocks closely but peels along the rugged shoreline for another several hundred yards. I glanced over my shoulder and just about fainted when I saw a wave twice as big as the one I was riding right behind me. I hung on and paddled harder; to lose it at this point would put me right on the rocks.

The energy of all the surf on the inside gets channeled into a strong rip that runs back out along the shoreline in an opposite direction. I noticed several surfers as I streaked by, but I also was running into the rip current. The chop coming up the face of my wave was horrendous. The big board went airborne a number of times, but somehow I managed to stay on using my paddle for balance.

Suddenly, I wasn’t going forward any longer. The wave had met its match against the rip and just stopped. I looked toward shore and saw I was actually going backward with the rip, back toward where I didn’t want to be. On the other side of the rip, the inside break was completely out of control. It was breaking much farther out than where I had been happily and safely surfing only a few hours before. Fortunately, the set had just about run its course and the last waves rolled through.

I paddled across the rip, hoping to catch a smaller wave before the next set came in. Luck was on my side, a small wave popped up and I paddled into it. I rode straight in toward the sand. I made it up the beach and then it was over.

I put my board down next to my car and walked over to the public hot shower. It was raining cats and dogs, and no one was around. I stayed under that hot shower for fifteen minutes. Finally I got changed, loaded my board, and was ready to go. The ocean out front looked like the beginning of the old TV show Victory at Sea: stormy and completely out of control. Not a place anyone would want to be.

I was just making a U-turn to head for home when I noticed a surfer walking up the beach with a thousand-yard stare. It was the same guy who, two hours earlier, had said he was in over his head and was going in. I asked him if he was all right. He seemed to shake and nod his head at the same time. He said he was from British Columbia, and it was his first time at the outside break. He said he was totally freaked out and would just stick with the inside spot the next time. I told him with the way the surf had come up so suddenly, I was a little freaked out too.

He said the fear had almost overwhelmed him, and he had to reach down inside to something he didn’t know he had. Even then he had almost given up. The strong rip current had nearly defeated him. Then he had seen me cross the rip and catch a final wave in. He had followed my lead and had finally made it.

We smiled at each other, both of us having had an extraordinary experience that day.

Paddling out in numbing-cold water, through a relentless shorebreak, and never knowing what one will find, but never despairing of doing it each and every time. Photo: John Wrenn

Photo: John Wrenn

Paddleboarding outside Big Beach Makena on the south side of Maui where the water is the bluest blue and the sand is sparkling White. Photo: Erik Aeder

A fourteen-foot standup board ready to race, with the traditional ti leaf to honor the Hawaiian eki, or spirit power. Photo: Dana Edmunds

Photo: Kimiro Kondo

Looking for puka shells. Photo: Jeff Hornbaker

In the old days before it was busy, the Pipeline could, and would, put a smile on any face. Photo: Jeff Divine

One beachcomber, four surfers, and an empty lineup with perfect waves … those were the days. Photo: Jeff Divine

The 1974 Smirnoff contest at Waimea Bay offered the biggest purse ever in professional surfing at the time–I don’t think I was thinking about the money when I took off, but I know I’m hoping it won’t be as bad as this photo makes it look. Photo: Steve Wilkings

Joe Quigg, Matt Kivlin, and Tom Zahn returning home on the Lurline after a splendid trip to Hawai’i in 1947. Photo: Joe Quigg collection

This photo of the Pipeline shows the end of the wave still has a lot of zip left. Photo: Jeff Divine

Coming in from the Second Reef takeoff at the Pipeline, with still a long way to go before its over. Photo: Steve Wilkings

Photo: Steve Wilkings