Hōpūpū- infused with surf fever
Sitting below the lines at Doheny State Beach, I look over to a new face and he says, “That was your wave. That wave came thousands of miles just for you.” One hand on my chest, car keys pressed against my breastplate, the other hand on my board, I thank him from my heart. Smiling, I thought of the first time those words were said to me, a wave travelling thus far to end with me riding it, was on my surf trip to O'ahu.
Origins of an idea are important. Whenever I start a new project I would always ask, why? how? where? who? and again a few more whys. The importance of context does not leave me because I've left academia. When I realised/accepted surfing was my life, I wanted to know where did it come from. I wanted to know of the generations of people and years of past experiences that somehow travelled to find me in London. That somehow gracefully pushed me to give up the life I thought I wanted to go looking for a new truth in a surf break.
The source of surfing I thought was in Tahiti. I made up my mind that I would go there for my birthday if I could find a cheap flight. Cue in Scotts Cheap deals: 190 USD to Honolulu return. Booked. The lack of hesitation came when I read an article that proclaimed modern surfing started in Hawai'i and not Tahiti. So I went. At that time I told my dad, I wanted to find my surfboard, I told everyone who would listen, because, in my ego phased idea, I thought getting a board from the birth place of modern surfing would give me the peace of mind of belonging. If you're new to surfing you would say, "wow", if you're an intermediate you might raise an eyebrow, but if you and the waves are one, I suspect you will say, "Novice!" I called a few places in SoCal before I left and asked for prices. I spoke to one person at UsedSurf, $179 blue soft top. Note made.
Money in hand and no idea where to look for a board or what to do, no surf classes booked, I headed to the island of O'ahu.
The Airbnb host had the door wide open and I walked into a half-naked older guy, just out of the shower welcoming me to Hawai'i. Nope. I said hello and asked him about surfing. He was a kitesurfer, you could tell from his abs and all the pictures of him on the walls. He gave a few tips, showed me a bike and boards if I wanted, and we parted ways. I rarely saw him for the rest of my time there. I would wake up at 6 and not come back home until 2 am. Every day for 7 days. Good stuff.
I headed out to check the water in Waikiki and used my brother's Facebook to see if there was anything on, 4/20. I jammed to the imitation of brother Bob at the Jazz Cafe. I was taken to inhale more jazz, where I ordered a ginger ale and a club soda to the tune of 20 bucks (what?) and then I went home and prepped for exploring. During breakfast at Koko head cafe, I told the waitress about my mission to buy a board, she told me to check this place out on Waialae Ave, just before the highway, she thought it was painted blue.
Another told me of this used board shop, RVs, that I should check out. So on Sunday morning after the farmers market, gingerly shrimps and rice, my new friend and I head to Downing. The novice surfers would say, "cool", the intermediates might say "hmm", and the old heads, "Ah George."
In March, when George Downing died, the surf world flooded the news with old videos of a man in the black and white era of tv, describing surfing as being on a cliff. I sent that video to my brother and to one other person who means the world to me. My feelings about surfing as they happen only get expressed to those two people.
"He wants to become part of this feeling of being suspended on a cliff. Of being, of falling, of free falling from different sections of this cliff and yet after free falling, being able to catch himself and continue on. " - George Downing
As I walked around this shop, the owner talks to us about surfing and tries to assess if I am for real (all in my head), I pass by a plaque that says George Downing. I look around and see all these images and I realise something is up. I ask the owner if he knew of this guy who just died, who happens to know everything about boards. The owner looks at me, a matter of fact tone, but with heavy words says, "Yes, of course, he was my father. He died in March." I look at my friend, in awe. I express my condolences and I tell the owner, how his father's words summated feelings I have never expressed before. Keone asks me many questions, and I tell him of my weaknesses, I tell him where I have surfed before. But in my ego of wanting a surfboard, he sees through it immediately. He tells me to go get the Costco board. I am livid inside. Costco?! No. I let that emotion go as quickly as it came and changed my interaction to know more about surfing in Hawai'i as he saw it. At some point, we are on the shop floor and he is teaching me how to pop up. He says "Do this every day, day and night, 10 times." I am still doing it, with the added push from my Dad.
My friend and I set out to paint Waikiki red, I set out to find the board during the day. I thought of surf classes but it was out of my budget, I work part-time now, you know what that means. My Japanese friend tells me of a guy who is Hawaiian and was a pretty good instructor from years ago. We book a session with him.
When we get in the car I am shocked, Disney might have done a good job of replicating Maui from this guy. Soft-spoken, Uncle Roy was a true Hawaiian. You know how I know? We get out to the break at Kaiser's and he taps his foot on the reef, and his fish friend swims by and says hello.
Mana - life energy (your power)
I travelled to the North Shore one day and thought maybe, I'll take a surf class. I didn't research much, but something drew me to an inadequate google review with an image of a hidden house. I called and spoke to Lisa, she told me where they were (we talked for quite some time) and then I just rocked up to Pua'ena, met Uncle Bryan and something clicked. He talked to me about dreams. In an overly emotional state, he told me, "You have to follow your dreams, man, no matter what, you must follow your dreams." He talks to me about the millions of people he has helped surf, how he did what was unexpected of him and thrived, how his father's respect he yearned for until this day, was maybe still a dream. You've got to live your dreams. I went out surfing with Martin, my paddling energy still to be harnessed, he used his toes to pull me on a big 10 ft board out to the break. I rode loads of waves that day. I think I was natural then. I think on this trip I was mostly natural footed. Bim, I was goofy.
After a few hours, we headed back to the tent, I met a few more people and took a walk to have dinner at Haleiwa Joe's. Again no plan just observing where this mana was taking me. And of course, I meet another wonderful soul. A longtime surfer who took the evening to teach me everything he knew about boards, to show me the Hawaiian Queen's last bathing grounds, and for us to watch the sunset on groms all on one wave hustling in after a shark alert by the lifeguard.
The North Shore felt like a home I never knew and I am sure I will return there, i.e. if my dreams allow.
When I got back to Palolo, I called Uncle Roy and asked him to go back out on my last day. We did, and this time, I rode some solid lefts, straight down the line. "What a wave!" some surfers paddling towards me said, and in that moment, I could not speak. On this last day, I didn't get any help paddling, I paddled for every wave, I paddled to and from the break. I just felt the water flow through my fingers, pass my wrists as I looked to the horizon. Then for every wave I paddled for, I committed, I rode it to the end of its life, and I thanked Akua.
Uncle Roy could feel the fear in my ways and told me that I need to get more acquainted with the ocean. So on my last day, after the surf, I had breakfast, gave a guy 4 bucks to hold my things, and walked down to the beach one step at a time, knowing that I had a mission. As I walked past a booth of surf instructors whom I felt disconnected, one said, "Nice tan." To which I wanted to reply, "Nice umbrella." I didn't realise what he was implying as my mind was fixated on the water. I walked in, thinking of the many people before me who swam in this ocean. Of Hi'iaka, the sister of Pele, who surfed these waters, I swam out to the surfers, said hello to them and laid back and dreamed. Diamond head in my right periphery, and an overwhelming sense of mana in my heart. Tears couldn't suffice the emotion within. Smiles were vaguely apt. It just was. I held my breath and went down to feel the sand, I came up and let it run through my fingers. I watched the boards of surfers get carried by the energy I felt. I laid back and I thanked Akua.
This confidence, lasted a few moments before I saw a shadow and convinced myself it was a big fish, aka shark. So I leisurely swam back.
Imua- moving forward with grace
Not all surfboard shops are the same, still, with this idea to buy a board, I went to various shops and spoke to the owners. Some owners were ready to sell me anything. I could feel their intentions so I would gently smile and leave. At one moment, I saw a board and cried, something about the colours took me. It didn't feel grounded, it just made me cry. I wanted to buy it but the shop didn't take Amex. Side note: I promised myself that I wouldn't use my credit card for any of these surf trips and this was the moment I was going to go against that, but guess what? It never happened. The owner of this shop kept trying to sell me the boards, but something wasn't right. One guy at another shop asked me to walk back and forth to him. He said I needed to get a basic 9'0 board and practice your stance. He said that until I am comfortable in it, do not buy a board. Deflated but somewhat encouraged, I jumped on my bike and went back to Downing. I think I spent 2 hours in there. I met a Marine Biologist who told me to apply to the University there and get out of Physics, it is apparently famously terrible for women. I listened to Keone's passion for the Aina portrayed in his activism and board meetings. I didn't buy a board, but I bought two of my favourite magazines. He then proceeded to give me all of the magazines he had. As I left, he said, "Go be a surfer". I pushed the surf magazines up Waialae Ave on the seat of my bike and the Mana of the island became my Imua.
As soon as I got back home I drove to UsedSurf shop and bought that 8ft foamie.
*This post is heavily abridged. So many wonderful things happened on this trip. If we meet we can swap stories. xox