Aloha Tribe,
I remember my first time. The first wave I rode, without, having any prior knowledge of the wave or break, in fact, I hadn't even seen it before. How could that be, you ask? Great question, and, a fun story.
It happened at Hanalei Bay last Spring on the north shore of Kauai. I had been out surfing with 8 other girls, when the coolest older guy paddled out towards me. His tactic for meeting me was unique, intersting, and, rather different. At first, he'd paddle near me, when there was a whole ocean to surf in, and he simply sit there, within half a dozen feet, simply watching me. So, I'd paddle further away from my girlsfriends, down the coast a score or more meters, only to find, him paddling along behind and next to me. I'd stop, set my board, turn to look over my shoulder for the coming swell, and, when I'd turn to face shore again, there he'd be, right next to me. Hmm, I thought, as I'd immediately lay on my board and paddel even further down the coast, further away from my girlfriends, only to find the same thing happen again, and, again. Finally, just as I was about to catch a most bodacious wave, I started to get set, and, there he was, parked, sitting his board, right directly in my path. Aargh!!! At this point, he lay down on his board, paddled out next to me and past me, saying, "come along, follow me, keep up." What an interesting introduction, I thought, as I simply started paddling after him, wondering where he was leading me. We stroked away from shore and into the blue. Out and out we went, then, we slowly began curving to our left at an angle away from the far distant shore. I had never been out this deep before and I tried to not think of big fish. After about 1 1/2 to 2 miles of paddling, we started approaching what appeared to be a break. I only saw it just as we got to it, as I looke UP, the face of the approaching wave. He told me that "this wave will be bigger than anything you've ridden so far," he new this, based on our talking while we paddled.
In those brief seconds as my board began lifting up the face of the wave, he told me that he wanted me to follow him straight up the face. So, I did. He took of stroking hard, saying "keep up," and I matched him which surprised me. Then, the wave, a loomed higher even as we climbed it, him saying...
"1. treat the wave just like any other wave you've ever surfed.
2. don't look down.
3. when you get to the top of the wave, spin your board 180 degrees, and simply let the board drop.
All that instruction came in a few milli-seconds, mind you.
With very little choice at this point, I stroked hard,matching his speed and power, then, once at the top, a distance much much more than my longboard was long, I spun my board with surprising speed and smoothness, shocking me it went so well even as I did it, and, dropped. Almost straight down. Following his advice, I did not look down and instead, simply and Popped Up, into a low crouch, my arms wide for a brief second in my Classic style, about to lower to my sides as I began standing higher.
Having never even seen the wave before, since we had paddled perhaps nearly about 2 miles down the beach and out to get to it, I had no idea how the wave would break, so, I simply did as I was told. I treated the wave like I always did, just as my spontaneous mentor coached me to do.
I raced down the vertical face, then, upon hitting the flats, I turned into a smooth though lightning fast bottom turn, angling my board at a dramatic angle, my outside rail rising to dance with the sky surprising me to see and feel all this happening in instantaneous slow motion.
I rode my ride out, just feeling the wave as I went, ziggzagging to play with my rails a bit and then I pulled out in a modified Hawaiian Pull Out.
And, from the top of the wave, I heard my new and spontaneous teacher shouting, "do it again,"as he sat his board directly above me on a watery mountain.
Spinning my board as I switched from seated to laying,
Paddling up the face, I spun my board again, only, this time, the wave was steeper, and, I pearled at the bottom of the face, and as my nose dipped. For a fraction of a second, I sensed doom, and I could hear my coach shouting, "don't pearl," as weighted my nose, lifted my tail, spun my board on my nose, 180 degrees, unweighting my nose and breaking it free of the pearl, and finishing the ride in a spinning whirling, 360 as the wave rode over me in a controlled pull out.
The break was Middles. The height was well well over Double Overhead. And it was my first time riding a break I had not only never seen, but never read about nor ever knew anything about it.
In a way, it was my virgin ride into the unknown. A style of riding that few probably experience. After all, normally, especially in known reef breaks like at the North Shore, for example, we read about a break, study it, then chose to go there. Or, we at the very least, stand on the shore a minute or two and study it before paddling out.
But this time, in this wild untamed, virgin ride, I got to feel something new. And, I've kept my passion for this type of wave. Riding the unknown, unseen wave. For me, it feels more intense this way, more feral, more rugged, more wild. And, I've found that I like that. A lot. In fact, oddly enough, no matter the power, or size of most reef breaks, I find them, tame, or harnessed, in comparison, in that they are, for the most part, predictable. This new style of riding, for me, offers me ways to explore my surfing spontaneous creativity and in-the-moment adaptability to whatever happens. Which, after all, is what surfing, at it's core, is really all about, and, what most of us love about it to begin with.
Bodaciously Stoked,
Lily of the Valley
I remember my first time. The first wave I rode, without, having any prior knowledge of the wave or break, in fact, I hadn't even seen it before. How could that be, you ask? Great question, and, a fun story.
It happened at Hanalei Bay last Spring on the north shore of Kauai. I had been out surfing with 8 other girls, when the coolest older guy paddled out towards me. His tactic for meeting me was unique, intersting, and, rather different. At first, he'd paddle near me, when there was a whole ocean to surf in, and he simply sit there, within half a dozen feet, simply watching me. So, I'd paddle further away from my girlsfriends, down the coast a score or more meters, only to find, him paddling along behind and next to me. I'd stop, set my board, turn to look over my shoulder for the coming swell, and, when I'd turn to face shore again, there he'd be, right next to me. Hmm, I thought, as I'd immediately lay on my board and paddel even further down the coast, further away from my girlfriends, only to find the same thing happen again, and, again. Finally, just as I was about to catch a most bodacious wave, I started to get set, and, there he was, parked, sitting his board, right directly in my path. Aargh!!! At this point, he lay down on his board, paddled out next to me and past me, saying, "come along, follow me, keep up." What an interesting introduction, I thought, as I simply started paddling after him, wondering where he was leading me. We stroked away from shore and into the blue. Out and out we went, then, we slowly began curving to our left at an angle away from the far distant shore. I had never been out this deep before and I tried to not think of big fish. After about 1 1/2 to 2 miles of paddling, we started approaching what appeared to be a break. I only saw it just as we got to it, as I looke UP, the face of the approaching wave. He told me that "this wave will be bigger than anything you've ridden so far," he new this, based on our talking while we paddled.
In those brief seconds as my board began lifting up the face of the wave, he told me that he wanted me to follow him straight up the face. So, I did. He took of stroking hard, saying "keep up," and I matched him which surprised me. Then, the wave, a loomed higher even as we climbed it, him saying...
"1. treat the wave just like any other wave you've ever surfed.
2. don't look down.
3. when you get to the top of the wave, spin your board 180 degrees, and simply let the board drop.
All that instruction came in a few milli-seconds, mind you.
With very little choice at this point, I stroked hard,matching his speed and power, then, once at the top, a distance much much more than my longboard was long, I spun my board with surprising speed and smoothness, shocking me it went so well even as I did it, and, dropped. Almost straight down. Following his advice, I did not look down and instead, simply and Popped Up, into a low crouch, my arms wide for a brief second in my Classic style, about to lower to my sides as I began standing higher.
Having never even seen the wave before, since we had paddled perhaps nearly about 2 miles down the beach and out to get to it, I had no idea how the wave would break, so, I simply did as I was told. I treated the wave like I always did, just as my spontaneous mentor coached me to do.
I raced down the vertical face, then, upon hitting the flats, I turned into a smooth though lightning fast bottom turn, angling my board at a dramatic angle, my outside rail rising to dance with the sky surprising me to see and feel all this happening in instantaneous slow motion.
I rode my ride out, just feeling the wave as I went, ziggzagging to play with my rails a bit and then I pulled out in a modified Hawaiian Pull Out.
And, from the top of the wave, I heard my new and spontaneous teacher shouting, "do it again,"as he sat his board directly above me on a watery mountain.
Spinning my board as I switched from seated to laying,
Paddling up the face, I spun my board again, only, this time, the wave was steeper, and, I pearled at the bottom of the face, and as my nose dipped. For a fraction of a second, I sensed doom, and I could hear my coach shouting, "don't pearl," as weighted my nose, lifted my tail, spun my board on my nose, 180 degrees, unweighting my nose and breaking it free of the pearl, and finishing the ride in a spinning whirling, 360 as the wave rode over me in a controlled pull out.
The break was Middles. The height was well well over Double Overhead. And it was my first time riding a break I had not only never seen, but never read about nor ever knew anything about it.
In a way, it was my virgin ride into the unknown. A style of riding that few probably experience. After all, normally, especially in known reef breaks like at the North Shore, for example, we read about a break, study it, then chose to go there. Or, we at the very least, stand on the shore a minute or two and study it before paddling out.
But this time, in this wild untamed, virgin ride, I got to feel something new. And, I've kept my passion for this type of wave. Riding the unknown, unseen wave. For me, it feels more intense this way, more feral, more rugged, more wild. And, I've found that I like that. A lot. In fact, oddly enough, no matter the power, or size of most reef breaks, I find them, tame, or harnessed, in comparison, in that they are, for the most part, predictable. This new style of riding, for me, offers me ways to explore my surfing spontaneous creativity and in-the-moment adaptability to whatever happens. Which, after all, is what surfing, at it's core, is really all about, and, what most of us love about it to begin with.
Bodaciously Stoked,
Lily of the Valley
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