Big Wind. Big Surf. Hang On. Whee!

It was a rambunctious day at the coast. A rosy dawn nudged me early from my bed and I could hear the pounding of the surf even from my house. I hopped on my bicycle and cruised down to the bluff where the canyon opens out to the ocean. The wind was howling and the surf was huge and each surge shot up a wide white spray of sea that sparkled in the hazy sunlight. At every good vantage point the guys were gathering. Some were already in the water, while others were maneuvering into wetsuits, waxing their boards, or gazing, transfixed, seaward.

This watching business seemed serious. What exactly were they looking for? My surfer-husband Monte explained it to me: “They’re basically trying to judge where to go, or whether to go at all. They’re watching where the waves are breaking, how far out, and how often they’re coming in. They want to see where the tide is, and how many people are in the water, and where the people are. Some of them are just looking, for the pleasure of looking, but don’t intend to go out. Some have been surfing already, and they’re tired, so they’re just watching other surfers.”

The excitement was contagious, even to a non-surfer like me. (Actually, non-surfer is an understatement. I don’t swim. I don’t even wade.) But there is something very compelling about the ocean when it gets in these assertive moods.

“Stay away from that beach today,” advised my friend Malinda. “The waves are wild and unpredictable, with beach sweeping sneaker sets!”

Monte also clarified the meaning of that last phrase. (Well, I just won’t leave my sneakers on the beach, was my first thought.) You can see that water is not my element at all.

What I envy, though, is the passion and the ability, and what must surely be a thrilling experience. I remember a poem by Leonard Cohen about a kite. He said, “You love it because it pulls gentle enough to call you master, strong enough to call you fool.” I wonder if surfing is a little like that.

Well, it certainly exerts a pull.

“The powerful thing about surfing,” Monte tells me, “is intermittent reinforcement. It’s not available constantly. You have to take it when it comes.”

The late (and great) Ray Kunze said something similar: “It's always different. Sometimes it's just exercise, sometimes it's thrilling, and sometimes it's scary. That's one reason it is such an addictive kind of sport -- it changes all the time.”

And Andy Neumann, one of the best of 'em, told me about the first time he surfed -- he said it felt like a magic carpet ride.

Now that’s an image I can relate to. Because as I turned and pedaled into those rowdy winds, the whole world was alive and exuberant, and it seemed as though I had climbed on board a perfect day and was riding it well. I felt lifted, and giddy...and carried away.