My Wave!

Johnny Utah: “Okay. I get it. This is where you tell me that “locals rule”, and that Yuppie insects like me shouldn’t be surfing the break, right?”

Bunker Weiss: “Nope.”

Surf gang: “That would be a waste of time”

Warchild: “We’re just gonna f**k you up!”

Yes, we've heard all the threadbare clichés in and out of the water; in car parks, by firelight and in the gossip columns of surf mags. Most surfer related altercations occur in the surf zone at a perfect beach, with a light offshore blowing. In the distance kids are frolicking in the shallows with plastic spades and buckets, the sand is an array of umbrellas, towels and beach bats, and there's that unmistakable smell of sunscreen, of summer floating on a midday heat-haze.

Interestingly enough the palpable tension that's welded to a hotly contested surf spot is reserved for surfers; other beach goers are simply oblivious of those sub-cultural undertows.

But sometimes it boils over, into the real world, into newspapers, across the Social Media, and when it raises its deformed head for all to see, including those kiddies frolicking in the shallows

But sometimes it boils over, into the real world, into newspapers, across the Social Media, and when it raises its deformed head for all to see, including those kiddies frolicking in the shallows, it's simply pathetic, but mostly embarrassing when grown men (and sometimes women) give voice and violence to their delusions of grandeur.

In the heat of the moment, all sense of perspective is abandoned; anger is fed to that inner beast that demands satisfaction by any means possible over no more than a wave - a band of energy that exhausts itself in seconds. In three and a half decades of surfing, I've seen it all, but most altercations have never escalated beyond a few words, followed by the ubiquitous stink-eye, or at worst some "handbags", and a whole lot of useless splashing while the wave of the day passes by unridden.

On those rare occasions where things have turned ugly, the entire day clouds over, the ocean turns to sour milk, your mouth tastes like you've been sucking on a rusty nail, and something is sucked from everyone in the water. One mindless act can ruin a whole holiday, a season, and for some an entire life!

It simply takes the actions of one self-appointed guardian of the waters to deeply effect the moods of so many. Somewhere, the real locals are laughing their flippers off, but they are also weeping at our folly. It’s always perplexed me as to why surfers in particular feel the need to resort so passionately to violence. I believe, besides the obvious psychological misfiring, it’s intrinsically linked to our watery environment. Place an aggressive individual in a car (more specifically a large SUV or German sedan and wait), or immerse an equally unstable individual in a foreign environment such as the ocean, and to their warped sense of reality violent behavior becomes quite acceptable.

The media is also to blame; instead of feeling comfortable with ourselves, weak individuals are easily impressed and try emulate the thuggery of the Bra Boys and Da Hui in an attempt to gain some modicum of respect

The media is also to blame; instead of feeling comfortable with ourselves, weak individuals are easily impressed and try emulate the thuggery of the Bra Boys and Da Hui in an attempt to gain some modicum of respect. I recently read an article about Hawaiian strongman Kala Alexander; titled “The Toughest F**king Man in Surfing – Kala Alexander” on Stabmag.com.

How nice; a perfect role-model for all those groms out there! It was no more than a base glorification of thuggery, with questions such as “Do you remember your first fight?” and “So, you guys don’t get messed with much over there?”. Outside magazine also ran a similar article titled “Rough Justice”, in December 2008, although there is a smidgen of contrition lurking somewhere between the lines. Most concerning, is the element of permissiveness when it comes to marrying violence to surfing. I hear stuff like you should have been around in the 70s and the 80s; well I was and I think it’s got progressively worse.

Simply put, there is no place for violence in surfing. Do we see, tennis players turning Centre Court into an MMA cage, or cricketers running each other through with wickets, or other board-riding brethren such as skateboarders turning their boards into battle axes? Think long and hard about these truths!

And as for those unwritten rules of surfing, it's no more a rag of water-spoiled notes nowadays; smudged and beyond recognition. Yet surfing's unwritten constitution is rewritten every day, in the smile of every grom wobbling across his first wave at the Berg. Real surfing has absolutely nothing to do with some cretinous bully trying to assert his or her warped sense of right or wrong by visiting violence on another surfer, even if they were wrong. Remember, you don’t influence behaviour by telling people what to do. You do it by exposing them to enough cases of people behaving well, and that’s what creates a new norm.

Step back, take a deep breath, paddle away, watch a wave break and contemplate the unparalleled privilege of your lifestyle.

Step back, take a deep breath, paddle away, watch a wave break and contemplate the unparalleled privilege of your lifestyle. Consider the billions of humans out there, who scrape together a living on less than a Dollar a day. Measure that deprivation against your privileged lifestyle, your dawn patrols, sunset sessions or weekend missions, and there's no doubt in my mind that resorting to violence to solve a surf related infringement deflates to a massive embarrassment to the lifestyle, but most of all yourself.

If you want to bathe in real violence and prove yourself, pack your bags and head for Mali, Afghanistan or Syria - take your pick, because believe me, the Dogs of War would maul your Bra Boy attitude to shreds within seconds. Somewhere along the way we forgot the whole point of riding waves was wrapped up in fun.

These are the reasons why for today, and perhaps for a while longer I despise everything that surfing has twisted into; why I avoid some of the best waves that our coast has to offer; why I ride alternate craft, and think twice about encouraging my children to join me in the water.

It appears surfing has become a buffed-up Frankenstein, embellished with a tangle of barbed wire and unintelligible Latin aphorisms inked all over an over sized calf or bicep, a liquid MMA cage, an arena of general unfriendliness where common decency gets snagged in the kelp on the paddle out.

Why do we need, or allow self-appointed Judge Dredds to pollute our free time with vitriol and violence, and police something as trivial as a wave? We have all experienced, and in some case meted out justice in the water; Why? And then we’ve returned to our roles as caring parents, professionals, loyal friends with little or no remorse. A couple of hours later a good long look in the mirror is perhaps required; and all you’ll see is embarrassment and whole lot of fear.

Consider for a moment if all that energy was used for something good. We could empower a whole generation of surfers we could be proud of.