The Conscious Surfer

As I’ve gotten older, the idea of surfing bigger waves has become less a reality than that of the past.

Let me set a picture….

I grew up spending my summers at the Jersey Shore, and I was always comfortable in the water. We didn't get big waves, and my folks usually steered clear of the beach during storms. But as I got older, I started experiencing hurricane season more and more. When I got into surfing at 13, I wasn't scared of facing Mother Nature yet. I can't remember everything, and I might not have the same perception of size anymore, but I still remember being comfortable in bigger surf and getting tossed around in the cold Jersey winter waters like it was no big deal.

As I moved out west, I got to challenge myself in what I considered at the time to be proper waves. My first memory of understanding the true power of the ocean came from an early winter day at a lonesome jetty in the South Bay. I can recall the sheer power as the wave boomed off the end of the jetty while I prepared to paddle out. While I can't say I made anything spectacular, I have replayed one fall over and over again like it happened yesterday. The wave had picked up quicker than my 17-year-old mind had interpreted, sending me straight over the falls before I could even say 'oh shit'.

Those next moments would start a new memory in my head of times I didn't enjoy surfing. What I had only known as a fun release from everyday society had quickly become a moment of not knowing my outcome. With the pain of the leash pulling being no more as the wave had ripped my only lifeline away from me, I started to wonder not only which way was up but whether I would see it again. I know compared to other wipeout stories this is a walk in the park for big dogs... but this was my version of a wipeout at Mavericks. The next thing I knew, I was washed up to shore like a piece of plastic that had been a little too far on the inside to continue its lazy river float.

Recently I was talking to a good friend of mine before paddling out on a 3-4 foot day here and we started talking about this idea; that as we had gotten older we had developed this fear of waves that as kids, we would’ve gone on no problem. As we had become more conscious of the consequences we had become less prone to take the risk. This led me to bring up the story formally mentioned and he asked what happened when I got to the sand. Finishing my wipeout story; as I looked up from the shore of the jetty I saw my friend staring down at me as he had come to watch me surf for the day. He had collected my board as I was in the rinse cycle of the South Bay version of a Maytag and he asked me if I was ok. I realized my leash was still in tack and I said to him “Hand me my board, I’m going back out”