Hungry for MorE
My name is Steve, and I’ve been hoarding waves my entire sixty-year surf life. Admitting my problem is the first step to dealing with it. I've been chasing waves since I was eleven years old. Today, I celebrate my fifteenth year stand up paddle anniversary. This may be my final evolution of a life spent in salt water.
This afternoon, I paddled out on my stand up board. The waves weren’t big. It wasn't top-to-bottom hollow. It wasn't breaking over a sketchy, shallow reef and it wasn’t breaking on some outside mysto-bar. No. My golden moment was a basic waist-high point wave. It was walled up and kinda mushy. I didn’t have to fight for it and nobody was in my way. A real meat-and-potatoes kinda wave. I loved every second of it.
I learned to stand up paddle surf Lone Ranger style in the beginning right before the SUP surfing craze caught on. I tried to bank on my seemingly vast knowledge gleaned from a lifetime of surf experience. Did it help? Not really. I was a full-on kook again.
In my life, I've dealt with every kind of wave, in every condition. Some results were better than others. Overhead closeouts in raging side-shore wind. Glassy ankle high peelers. Mushy post-storm reforms. Gaping beach break A-frames and long point breaks. You know, the total gambit. Now, here I am with a stand up board. Waves that I once considered too soft and lack luster are now targets of opportunity. Most B-team surf spots tend to have a mellower crowd vibe too.
I quickly found out that after windsurfing thirty-five years, that wind is now the enemy. It sucks, it really does. Bumpy chop is wind's evil twin. The wind will blow you to places on a stand up board that only migrating shorebirds can return from. Bouncy side-chop introduces you to the fine art of getting back up standing on your board. But, as in life, practice makes perfect. Practice also makes one really tired. For thumping closeout beach breaks and top-to-bottom barrels on a stand up, you'll need to believe in a higher power. One that I haven’t acquired … and don’t plan to.
There is also the element of companionship. You don't want it. The farther away from a crowd, the better. Turning a big stand up board around in a tight pack is like U-turning a school bus in Trader Joe’s parking lot.
Last winter, on a sunny Saturday, I paddled out at a crowded beginner’s spot and caught an outside set wave. Two B-team kook longboarders dropped in in front of me. One fell over the back of the wave, the other pearled on takeoff. His board shot right into my most valued pair of assets. He and I, now intimately bound together with our leashes tangled, were flung toward a six pack of surf school students on soft tops. As if placed by divine intervention, the six soft boards and rubber suited bodies padded both of our white water landings. Amazingly, no one was hurt in the eight board pile up (even my boys escaped unscathed), but my personal streak of 150 accident-free days was over. Way over in a big way. When I flipped my board over to inspect for damage, a baseball-sized chunk of foam was stuck to one of my fins. It just happened to match the gaping hole from one of the soft tops. Lesson learned, stay away from crowds. Things happen that are out of your control. Tough love, I know.
Paddle surfing has granted me the serenity of knowing there will be many more waves in my future. It has also taught me benevolence, a word that I have never used in my surfing life before. Once I was released from the “fighting for scraps” mentality, I can now afford to be … well, nice. I have a shameless desire to acquire waves, but more water time away from the pack equals more surf. I still need my fix. But now, I am no longer just another rat in the pack. I am free to roam, away from the crowd, ready to feed: a bite here, a bite there, a royal feast if I want one. Flushed with a few stand up boards, I feel like the King of my own castle now. My daily wave count has soared.
Fifteen years ago I carried a big stand up board from my house down to the water at Pleasure Point for the first time. It was my first prone-free surf day. Feeling both tall and inept, I wobbled around like a newborn calf until I lucked into my first two-foot wave. Disregarding my Lurch-like take off, I knew instinctively that paddle surfing would keep me riding waves for the next fifty years or 100,000 waves, whichever comes first. It was one of those peanut butter in the chocolate moments... and 50,000 waves later, I'm still hungry for more
