Stinky Wetsuits

I went surfing on January 1st. What follows is the exchange I had with my surf buddy prior to, and following a fun session in Seaside, OR.

Shark!

So there was a shark attack last week not too far from where I surf. The guy got away without any injuries though—the big lug just gave his board a little taste-test. I’m sure there’s a wetsuit that got a thorough cleaning this weekend, and for the record, the guy was an out-of-towner. Maybe it was a local shark just keeping the line-up in order.

All joking aside, it keeps you on alert the next time you paddle out after hearing about this sort of thing. That odd swooshing of water a few yards off or the shadow that may or may not have just passed under your board...? You can’t let your imagination run wild but occasionally it does. The worst (or best?) part of it is there isn’t going to be any of that cinematic fin-rushing-up-from-afar crap if a great white does decide to go after you. I’m sure most surfers that have been attacked never even saw it coming. Great whites attack from underneath and it’s usually a case of mistaken identity. Of course that’s no consolation if Jaws takes a bite out of your thigh.

Seals and sea lions are usually on the menu, and incidentally, there’s a seal that frequents my regular break. Whenever I see the doe-eyed little guy it immediately gets my hackles up, especially when he’s closer to the beach than I am: it’s like, does he know something I don’t?

 

I honestly don’t believe surfing is inherently dangerous. I mean, of course there’s risk involved, but like any sport (and I hate to call surfing a sport) there is definitely a potential for injury. Yet most competent surfers know if conditions are beyond their ability. Sure, accidents happen, but by the numbers, the sheer amount of surfers in the water around the world at any given time compared to the amount of drowning reported, shark attacks, and other potentially-fatal incidents associated with the activity are relatively low.

 And I actually read somewhere that more people get attacked by cows each year than by sharks. 

Of course it’s probably a bit more frightening to have Jaws barreling up underneath you than Lulu the cow giving you a swift kick to the backside. Or whatever it is a cow does when it attacks.

At the end of the day, even though the linked incident took place just miles down the coast from where I usually surf, it won’t keep me from the water. I may pay a bit closer attention to that seal though. If he’s paddling in, I might think about doing the same.

Shark Attack on the Oregon Coast 

Summer is Nearly Over

Our fleeting Oregon summer is coming to a close, and as the collective month of Octembruary closes in with its months of rain and gloom, like any veteran NW resident, I’m cramming as much outdoor activity into the few sunny days we have left as possible.

Some great surfing filled up most of the last weeks of August. A couple of days found me in 5’+ waves at two of my regular spots on the northern Oregon coast. A spot that will remain unnamed was spitting barrels when the SW and W swell and wind mixed up just right. Short Sands was decent the following day and I even found an unknown-to-me break in an area south of there that was throwing out clean, 2-3’ rights for myself and the 4 other surfers in the water later that week. It was definitely a local crowd but I was tolerated; a far cry from what the scenario would have been had I discovered some unknown or overlooked break in California.

It’s hard to believe that I’ve only been surfing again for a few months. My entire psyche has shifted. Saltwater on the brain perhaps, but aside from keeping my day-to-day life in order, paying bills, busting my ass at work, and taking care of the family, I can't think about much more than when I'll paddle out again. All future trips and plans always include at least a passing thought: “will I be able to surf?” 

Luckily my wife is very understanding of my rediscovered passion. She grew up in a surf town and, although she rolls her eyes as I wax poetic of my last ride or scoffs at my attempts to coordinate a sitter for the kids because (fill in the blank spot) "is going off," well, she gets it.

Yes, summer is coming to a close. Yet I look forward to what autumn will bring to the Oregon coast. Bigger waves I hear. 

Locals Only

Surfers are an interesting lot. Exhibiting extreme camaraderie one moment yet degenerating into grade school bullying the next, in my 25 years of surfing I’ve seen just about everything. From Baja California to Northern Oregon to Hawaii and Japan, I’ve surfed my fair share of breaks and have witnessed the gamut in regards to behavior. 

The lineup is an equalizer. It doesn’t matter if you’re homeless. The lineup gives no credit if you’re rich. The lineup requires that you follow the rules, and even when you do, it is often not enough to avoid heckling, snakes, and sometimes physical confrontation. Even the most public breaks with the easiest access are rife with localism. Someone grew up at that very public beach, and in the collective mind of the locals, that equals entitlement. 

I’ve seen kids younger than twelve tugging the leashes of other surfers paddling for a wave. I’ve watched on as a 40 year-old insurance salesman exchanged words and eventually took awkward swings at another who snaked his ride. I even witnessed pro Sunny Garcia physically threaten another surfer in a sparse lineup off Huntington Pier for not getting out of his way fast enough in the impact zone. What is it? What causes this degeneration? What makes certain surfers turn into complete assholes when their feet touch the water? 

At most breaks it’s best to stay out of the local’s way—and don’t worry, you’ll know them. They’ll chat it up amongst themselves and blatantly ignore an outsider’s attempt to converse. They’ll whoop it up for their buddies as they take off on a peeling right yet heckle an outsider who grabs the wave of the day. Surfers place ownership on a fleeting commodity Mother Nature creates in an attempt to hoard it like so many gold-stealing trolls. 

It is an aspect of the lifestyle we need not condone. Yet in order to feel the stoke, in order to possess the enlightenment and experience the high that only surfing can provide, we must accept and deal with this behavior. Surfers are not supportive of newbies trying to make their way into the fold. Surfers will take advantage another’s lack of talent to get a wave. Some of us will propagate the more puerile aspects of the culture while others may try to discourage or at least ignore it. However you deal, this behavior is a part of what we are. 

In the end it’s all about you and the wave. And perhaps that’s what creates this behavior—oneness with the wave develops into a selfishness that sometimes rears an ugly head. Like a heroin addict that rips off his own mom to feed a habit, an otherwise decently behaving person transforms in the worst of ways to get that cleanline fix. 

No matter how you feel about localism and the culture of the lineup, it is what it is and it’s not likely to change. Our culture is a unique one indeed, and regardless of those aspects you or I dislike, there’s a reason we keep coming back to the water. Yes, surfers are an interesting lot.