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Surfing or Golf?

SeaCliff — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 19:09:20 +0000

by SeaCliff, as originally published in “The Aloha Room and Stories of Stoke” on NYNJSurf.com

Golf and surfing share at least some core characteristics - The learning curve for each is endless. And in their own unique way, each sport can yield great satisfaction one moment, and be completely humbling the next.

Yet there is something mystical about our sport that defies easy explanation.

I played a lot of golf along the way, and while it was fine, I don’t think I ever once had a passion for golf that I’ve seen in some friends. But then again, I don’t think I ever saw in my friends the pure joy in my soul that paddling out and then into a wave brings me. Perhaps it’s there, and I hope it is there for them. Everyone should feel this.

I’m on the water. In the distance I see the set draw closer. My heart rate begins to pick up as my eyes look for the subtleties - the size and shape, building and changing as they approach. The second wave…that’s the one….get out a bit….a few extra feet out and east…line it up…..heart rate racing now…in position…start paddling…get some speed to get out in front of her, remembering everything I’ve ever tried to learn…..anticipation building…I can hear voices and see images in my head…Alex Karinsky talking about pulling in, Kui Nakamura smoothly popping up - graceful and relaxed, Jeff Anthony and Ryan McNeil generating speed….

……and suddenly I feel it. That moment. That instant when the wave takes over and lifts the tail of the board - that fraction of a second - it’s at that moment - when the wave is in control - that I feel closest to god or whatever it is that put us all here.

And in an flash, that instant is gone and suddenly it becomes all about taking control back and taking this incredible gift and doing the best I can with it with whatever meager talents I’ve been able to acquire. Down…bottom turn…see the face, react….anticipate the next section…react….draw from her energy and react again….and then……she’s gone.

My heart still pounding, my body back on the board, I turn and begin paddling again. My eyes instantly go back to the horizon, looking for more….hungry for more, never satisfied. Because I want that moment. Again.

Golf is a fine sport, but I never felt that way lining up a 12 foot putt.

Winter Surfer’s Lament

SeaCliff — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 01:58:09 +0000

An Original Work by SeaCliff, as originally posted somewhere, sometime back in 2003.

On the eve of Spring, I offer this look back at winter surf experiences. As much as this is a song of lament, I find myself regretting the fact that there weren’t enough days this past winter like the one described. Who knows, one day I may even publish the accompanying music.

Winter Surfers Lament

Aka: “Down the Line”

Down the line

Takin’ what it gives

Down the line

Shoulders burn

Face is chilled

I’ll take it and learn

Down the line

Nice shape faces

Northwest, gusty

Mostly winter empty spaces

I’ll take it, I’ll earn it

Down the line

Chorus:

Down the line

Takin’ what it gives

Down the line

Reminded on each winter swell

What it takes within ourselves

To live in this cold cold hell

Knowing I’ll still take it when I can

Down the line

When can I get on it again?

Down the line.

(Repeat and fade)

On Living Life in the Moment..

SeaCliff — Thu, 08 Feb 2007 15:26:49 +0000

Posted by SeaCliff

Stumbled on this quote when checking in on Liz Clark and the Voyage of the Swell on Westsand.com. (Much thanks to skSURF for the heads up on this!) While not directly surf related, this captures, for me, much of the essence of what drives us to pursue the surf, near and far.
“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than those you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

- Mark Twain

Dropping into a Frontside Tube

SeaCliff — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 13:09:09 +0000

This is the second in the series on Technique and Etiquette, and originates from a question originally posed by Kurt in the forums on NYNJSurf.com

Kurt: I’m beginning to get my Chris Birch quad figured out. It’s faster and shorter (at 6′2″) than anything else I’ve ridden in a long time. I’m stoked.

Anyway, yesterday and today’s waves were giving me an oppurtunity to drop into a section that was pretty walled up with a shoulder a little ways down. As I was dropping in the lip was pitching over.
I tried multiple times to drop into a frontside tube. I was feeling like I was making headway. Here’s some of the things that occurred to me.
1. Lean forward
2. Crouch
3. Lean in towards the wave, to get your chest close to the face, and even maybe do a little bit of a back bend to match the shape of the wave. I found this helped me keep my feet so that the pressure was on the inside rail of my board - holding me in the pocket - while getting my center of gravity as close to the face of the wave as possible, and kept the wave lip from hitting me in the head.

And of course not mentioned here is the implied “Pop up fast.”

Anyway, I wasn’t making it out of any of these barrels - and some of my attmepts probably looked awful. But I wanted to ask you kids who get barrelled on a reguhlar basis - am I doing anything that sounds crazy? What is your approach? Can you put it into words, or is it more “Get in barrel, surf.”

Also, the biggest question - how does one pump in the barrel to gain speed to make it out of our frieght-training east coast barrels? Especially when said tube is pretty small and you have to be all tucked in to get in there anyway? I find I can only pump when I have the full length of my body to expand/contract.

Thoughts?

Matt C: move your back and front foot forward, keep your shoulders open and facing out of the tube, weight on front foot, don’t close your eyes or look at anything but the exit. take off on a ton of close outs to practice getting under the lip.

old_rock_guy: All valid points, but for my money the set-up out of your bottom turn is 90% of the key to success. Picking the spot down the line where you need to initiate the turn downward, or stall in short sections, is the money maker for me. When I change my mind at the last second and try to tuck into a driving barrel (rather than a short stall pit) I find I have a much lower chance of making it then my usual sight it, set it, and duck routine. And once I am inside and in fourth gear I can easily adjust to the minor changes in the waves speed and more often than not it’s a stall of some sort to bleed off speed rather then trying to pump in the bubble.

kurt: old_rock - yes i agree that when you are already up and can see the section that is going to pitch, you can sort of set it, crouch and get in there.

the situation I was faced with today was having to drop directly into a barrel, essentially setting up under the lip AS you’re dropping in. So there is no bottom turn essentially.

old_rock_guy: I see now Krut, I missed the finer points in your post (a little tired from a major big fun session this AM). So the real question is did you have time to extend your body or were the take-offs so quick it was a crouch all the way (ala Slater in September Sessions, when he went off solo and then on one wave just let a big right barrel roll over him just as he took-off and then it spit him out, classic!). The heart of the matter would be, how do you get up and into fourth gear. If you can get a pump and ankle roll up into the face to set a high line, that’s probably your key. I think if I was on a new wave (or board) that I did not know and was getting tagged from behind, I would do a full blast into 5th gear on a wave or two to just find the speed line and then start working into finding that zone out of your top turn. Then you can start to play with your speed and the lip. I as a habit tend to always go fast, being a fish head my whole life, and find it’s much easier to slow down then to accelerate. I guess my overall advise is to just see how freakin fast you can make that new board go and the you’ll know your gearing (sorry for the motorhead terms, but that’s my simplistic view of it). That is usually how I warm up for my sessions, I just wail down the line, puming full extensions as fast as I can on my first few waves and then it all comes a little easier. Speed and knowing where it lives is the core of surfing. Hope that helps.

dynamite: i’ve solved that problem myself just by getting a bigger board. for example, this am took at the 6′4″ and couldn’t make it out at all. like you i can’t seem to find the rhythm to pump out or adjust myself enough. then took out the 6′6″ and it was the answer. bottom turn in, stall, and drag my hand to slow down, then a little more pressure on my front foot, which made for an easier and more fun session.

old_rock_guy: I think that ridding thrusters exclusively has caused some surfers to not know how to pump down the line, as opposed to just projecting a turn. The twin fin allows you that freedom to start with a few quick ankle rolls and extend those into long speed lines. It’s all I can do to explain it because at this point it’s zen, but it used to be called roller-coastering, just pumping vertically and finding the release points in the vertical. Thrusters just want to track and really don’t let you feel that rail to rail speed. That’s the trade for the stability and tourque ability.

onefin: drag back hand in face, sometimes burying your full arm in the face is a good way to really stall yourself. A word of advice, this is where you better have a strong core, if you are going for an arm stall and you upper body abs area are not in shape you run the risk of serious muscle and joint damage this move is not for the weak.
Todd Chesser made a great observation years ago about the placement of your front hand while frontside tuberiding. He comments that your front hand is a steering wheel, where you point it your body will follow. This works, it has to do with controling your center of gravity and shifting around your body wieght.
When initially pulling in to the barrel the farther back you are on the board with the weight on your back foot you can slow to a stall into the barrel. Than by shifting you weight forward you can accelerate out of the tube. If your on a longboard, start at the tail and walk your way to the tip.
Lastly, dont close your eyes you scaredy cat. I don’t know how many times I have seen the unsuspecting surfer pull in, panic, and shut thier eyes. Muscle up son, enjoy the view this is what surfing is all about and best of all if the crap goes bad this is the safest place to be.

Good luck and practice makes perfect.

This is the Sea

SeaCliff — Sun, 03 Dec 2006 12:51:02 +0000

by The Waterboys, also on the soundtrack to Riding Giants

These things you keep
you’d better throw them away
You wanna turn your back
on your soulless days
Once you were tethered
and now you are free
Once you were tethered
well now you are free
That was the river
this is the sea!
Now if you’re feelin’ weary
if you’ve been alone too long
Maybe you’ve been suffering from
a few too many
Plans that have gone wrong
and you’re trying to remember
How fine your life used to be
running around banging your drum
Like it’s 1973
well that was the river
This is the sea!

Now you say you’ve got trouble
you say you’ve got pain
You say’ve got nothing left to believe in
nothing to hold on to
Nothing to trust
nothing but chains
You’re scouring your conscience
raking through your memories
Scouring your conscience
raking through your memories
But that was the river
this is the sea yeah!
Now I can see you wavering
as you try to decide
You’ve got a war in your head
and it’s tearing you up inside
You’re trying to make sense
of something that you just can’t see
Trying to make sense now
and you know you once held the key
But that was the river
and this is the sea!
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!
Now I hear there’s a train
it’s coming on down the line
It’s yours if you hurry
you’ve got still enough time
And you don’t need no ticket
and you don’t pay no fee
No you don’t need no ticket
you don’t pay no fee
Because that was the river
and this is the sea!
Behold the sea!

Another great day on the water!

SeaCliff — Sun, 19 Nov 2006 12:03:51 +0000

by MikeM, as originally published in “Stories of Stoke” on NYNJSurf.com, September 30, 2006

The catch started off slow in the early morning. Muscling through when the wind blows the boat against the tide can be real frustrating, especially when its howling steady 25 knots and the waves start to stand up. Taking em over the stern for hours and somehow the boat stays afloat… I guess i’m thankful that the catch was slow in the am as it would have brought us down to visit the flying dutchmen. My deckhand is puking over the side and tripping over his own feet, as we motor up for a new drift. A rogue set starts to show and I hear him say OMG as a wall of green water comes over the bow… everything on the deck is washed astern and the water flows smoothly out over the transom. I steer the boat and let her fall off to starboard and settle in for another drift. I love my job! Here comes winter!

For a relaxing breath of air after work, I went to the beach and found a perfect wedge that dropped me into a beautiful right hand bowl! The sun was low in the western sky, the water a beautiful green. Just me myself and I and my truck on the beach. A wave was refracting off the jeddie connecting with the incoming swell and making these beautiful consistent setups. Steep drop right on the peak of the wedge, both feet on the tail of my 9′6, hard bottom turn into the bowl, up the face and down in the pit, work my way through the soft section and into the next wedgy a-frame peak that was as good as the first one, another power turn in the trough and another beautiful blue green bowl! I love my life! Here comes winter!

A Brush with Death and a God

SeaCliff — Sun, 05 Nov 2006 14:32:13 +0000

by Old_Rock_Guy_in_NH, as originally published in “Stories of Stoke” on NYNJSurf.com, April 24, 2006

OK, here is the deal. It is actually so well etched in my mind I only needed to think about (and feel) the day and it all started filling in pretty well. So sit back brothers and sisters we are going surf tripping to SoCal…

This was back around 1986 to 88 in either January or February. It had been a real wet and cold winter for Southern California, raining a lot. Mudslides and chaos everywhere, and with lots of big Northwest swells, one right after the other. This next one was different though; this was going to be a mega-swell. This was a giant storm system that covered the entire northeast Pacific Ocean. Predictions were off the charts. Buoys were 20’+ on Friday night and folks were scrambling. My friends and me had surfed at home in El Porto for the last few swells, but those had been lonely, sketchy sessions, especially for the two girls, Deb and Shirley. They were both very core and beyond expert skiers, tough as nails, but giant winter swells were past their comfort zone as far as surfing went. And the way the sand bars were torn up at home they were getting past mine too.

El Porto thumps normally, never mind at triple overhead. Plus my other buddies Jose, Richard, and Javier were starting to show mental signs of wear and tear from having to paddle out into constant 10-15 foot brick walls. I had to try and remember that my East coast insecurity/thirst/wave fever complex sometimes made me the odd man out in SoCal. Yeah, I guess a road trip to some mid-sized, under control fun would be a good call. Why not? It’ll still be good, just smaller. So we huddle the night before at my house and run down the choices. Go North to a point, or go south to somewhere slightly out of the max window? North points will be everyone’s call, and it’s Saturday, so the crowd factor could be a big factor too. Since the girls had been pushing it hard we decided to take a safe call and head down to Old Man’s figuring it is always a harmless ticket, even at double overhead it’s a soft-ish, kinda wave the won’t kill you and can hold any sized swell. And we could always walk over to Church if that was working. Plus I could break out my 6’4” love of my life board, which had not gotten wet in over a month. Cool, we’ll meet at 4am and we’ll just have fun!

Next morning, icy cold, pitch black and still as glass. My house was a mile from the beach, up on a hill in El Segundo and when the surf was really big, you could hear a slight rumble. That morning, standing in the street and loading up it sounded like we were standing 10 foot from the waters edge. You could hear the snap and crush of every wave. We were just staring at each other thinking, Holy sh*t, it’s HUGE. I immediately started having second thoughts. We could surf here, alone. What if it’s flat down south, what if, what if?? I could tell by the resounding silence that I was locked into the south trip. Oh well, come on 6’4” lets go play somewhere else. We’ll burn a few bones and just have a kicked back session.

The ride down was pretty quiet. I just sat way in the back listening to my favorite Dead tape and replaying one of the greatest Bertha into Fire on the Mountain jams, over and over, thinking about what we were driving away from. Dam. That rumble was downright scary. Maybe Hammerland was holding it?

So we pulled up to the gate at the State Park and got into an already long line, in the still pitch-blackness. We had a good 15 minute wait until 6 when they open the gate at San Onofre, so Shirley kills the engine and we get out to stretch. Listen, holy f*ck, there’s that sound again. We run over to the cliff area and you can feel the ground at the top of the 100’ cliffs shaking with every wave. It’s just pure thunder cracking. Oh my god. My heartbeat cranks immediately right up to maxi with wings. Vrmmmm. And the very first thought in my head? 6’4”, pure freakin genius I am! F*ck!!

Ok coffee gets sucked down, pisses get taken, boards waxed and rewaxed, we finally get in and snake down the road to S.O. Now if you have never been, the great thing at Old Man’s is you park right there on the beach, in dirt lots and just hang out of your car all day. So we pull up to the north end by the fence so we can see Church as it gets light. Plus that is usually were the corner is and its ALWAYS a dry hair paddle out from there. Get out to look into the first peek of light and all you can see is whitewater. Constant, from S.O. all the way across the bay, about a mile that is usually flat, to Church. Immediately it becomes apparent that this ain’t no safety session. This is serious. Normally it’s a good ¼ to ½ mile paddle outside at Old Man’s. Today was a serious mile and even that may have been conservative. Now the lots are filled, but there is not a lot of talking, just a little nervous banter once in a while. No one was ready for this. I start timing the 6 foot shore pound in the bay, just to see if it’s possible to get out there and go around. Slowly people start to try and get out in front and the results are not looking good. A few folks get lucky and make it through the inside pound and then get swept into the bay where you can head out. OK there’s hope here. I decide to head to the porta-potty and get ready for what could be a long paddle. The others are wavering on chancing it or just watch for a while and let me be the guinea pig. Fine, I can play that role. I am a not fully packed up top at times, so my judgment regarding surfing safety can be called into question at moments like this. OK 6’4” it’s you and me old girl.

Rather than the bay route I go the other way and jump right into the pit by the entrance and hope to get lucky. I must have done something right because just a few hard dives and I was getting ripped right out, with a little pull north, but that was to be expected. Now from this point the only reference I have is the cars and the cliffs, because in front of me is nothing but whitewater and lots of it. Thank goodness for my paddling gloves, and days in the gym, because it was a long hard paddle out there.

Now I finally get around what feels like the corner and I just start stroking as hard as I can to get south. It felt like I went 3 miles out and sideways just to get near where I wanted to be. And at this point, being WAY outside, the cars are tiny on the beach and to say there is a lot of water moving around is a vast understatement. Waves look like cold, black, steel mountains that just keep rising up until they can’t hold their own weight and just heave out into space. Remember I said Old Man’s is mushy? Forget that. This day it looked like a reef break. 15 to 20 foot faces throwing out as far as they were tall. There was absolutely no resemblance to the Old Man’s I knew and the place I was at.

Looking down and outside there are a couple of surfers but no one is riding. I head over and start to try and calm down and scope out a spot to get a shoulder from. Just as I pass over what I think is a wave where I want to be, I see an old gray geezer sitting outside another 40 or 50 yards, on a, get this, a florescent pink longboard. OK, there’s my safety marker. I can use him as a gauge to judge wave height as the pass under him. And as I start to zone in a little to the situation and try and calm down, I suddenly notice that the old guy is looking at the horizon. He starts to paddle even further out. Oh f*ck, is he just crapping himself or is it possible there is a wave out there. As soon as I start to paddle, deciding not to be stupid for a moment, I see what he saw. Now I am not prone to exaggerate about big surf or my own fear. I rarely ever hit that point, but let me just say that once I had fully grasped this situation I think me adrenal gland gave out, because here I was staring up at the biggest wall of water I had ever seen and I had little to no chance of get over it. I will all ways remember that there was a wave in front of it that was a solid 15 foot face and the one behind it DWARFED that one.

Now I have to stop and tell you that as fast as all this is happening, it’s all somehow seemed in frame by frame slo-motion, and still is how I see it all today. It’s just like I am still there. My own personal Ground Hog Day.

OK, so, instincts being what they are, they severely kicked in, and I paddled like I have never paddled before, or have since. As fast as my webbed gloves, 6’4” and all the adrenaline my body had propelled me over that first wave. Just in time to see old pink geezer paddling up the face of the wave that is about to kill me. And if he does not start stroking harder he is going to be the object impaled in the lip that is going to impale me. F*CK. Move old man. You stupid son of a bitch, we’re both going to die. SO as I track a little more north hoping beyond hope to bust over the top of this monster outside of the death zone of the pink longboarder, what does this moron do? He wipes his board around!! Holy mother of freaking Jesus, you’re out of your mind grandpa. You’re as good as dead AND you’re going to take me with you. But does reason affect his mind? NO! And to make the cherry on the freakin sunday here what does gramps do on this about to explode, left from hell. He paddles right, jumps to his feet and fades right, straight into the pit. OK ,so you deserve the pummeling and possible death you are due now, pops. I might have given you points just for attempting to take off, but that was absolute, pure stupidity. As I see him drop into this thundering pit from my eagles view, what does this nut case do next? Pretty much the most amazing non-chalant 270 degree, full speed, drawn out, arched back, no-hands bottom turn I have ever seen. All this with an iceberg sized eye wall just clipping his rail, as he redirects, back and straight up the face, directly at me, who is scratching for the top now, as the lip which I had forgotten about is about the unload on my head. “OH, this is like some bizarre, dream, Fellini movie thing going on now. I am just going to have to quit the weed if I ever live through this.” And as I look back down at psycho longboarder, he’s not where I thought he would be, noooo, much worse, he is coming straight up the vertical wall and directly at me. GOD NO! At the last second as I hit the peak flying up, and get ready for impact, geezer goes straight up, puts 9’ of his 10’ board out of the wave above my head and does an off the lip right next to my ear with the grace and style of a cat. Not a move or motion out of place, just like it was 2 foot Trestles. Straight up to right back straight down a pure vertical wall. The most graceful thing I had ever seen, never mind in death defying, mind numbing waves like this. And as I finally get that millisecond to look the old guy in the face, I flash that David Nuuhiwa is looking back at me, right square in the eye and just smiling from a very pure soul, and whoosh he was gone as everything exploded. It was way beyond magical; it very much felt like a moment with a god.

Post note- The ending lacks a little as I was getting tired and I am not that good a writer to begin with. But it is also very hard to explain in words the poise and calm that Nuuhiwa was surfing with in those moments. I have been around the surfing block a few times and seen lots of great surfers, but none were ever near the same “other worldliness” control and cold steel nerve that I saw exhibited in those few seconds. It was if he was in absolute control of the ocean itelf at a moment, when no one was even near their peek level of self- control because of the heavy, heavy situation. It was a pure black and white exhibit of what a “legend” really is compared to the rest of us.

Rockaway Surfriders Brave the Waves to Protect the City’s Waters

SeaCliff — Sat, 28 Oct 2006 20:47:00 +0000

By Skye McFarlane, as originally published in The Columbia Journalist, December 12, 2005
It is a week before Thanksgiving, and a winter wind is crashing hard onto the shores of Rockaway, Queens, dropping temperatures into the 30s. Yet the water at Rockaway Beach is still alive with surfers.

Clad in head-to-toe black neoprene, five sleek bodies appear like silhouettes, bobbing in the glare of the late-afternoon sun. As the swells roll in, each takes his turn to paddle and stand, perching atop the waves for a few brief, exhilarating seconds before plunging back down into the frothy 50-degree surf.

“Some people think it’s crazy for us to go out when it’s 35 degrees outside or snowing or whatever,” said Joel Banslaben, a 30-year-old Long Island native who has been surfing the waters around New York City since the age of 12. “But to those of us who grew up surfing here, it’s just normal.”

The willingness to brave frigid northeastern winters is not the only attribute that sets New York City surfers apart. Fiercely protective of Rockaway and other nearby beaches, the average city surfer is anything but a bum. Spanning the generations from teenagers to professionals in their mid-50s, Big Apple surfers form a diverse, yet tight-knit subculture that follows environmental issues as closely as it does surf forecasts and wears suits as well as suntans.

“That’s one of the biggest challenges – overcoming that image. The Spicoli image, you might call it,” said Banslaben, referencing the blonde-haired stoner character played by Sean Penn in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. “Especially in New York, you get a very intelligent cross-section of people who surf.”

Banslaben has both personal and political reasons to want to discard the Spicoli stereotype. With a mop of chestnut curls that threatens to overrun his head and a well-used skateboard under foot, Banslaben, at first glance, could easily pass for a cliché. But on land, his crisp button-down shirts and sharp commentary on protecting the earth’s water systems betray ambitions that have little to do with the surfer-dude stereotype. Banslaben has a master’s degree in environmental policy from Columbia University, and heads the Coastal Marine Resource Center of New York, a non-profit group that lobbies on issues affecting New York’s beaches and watersheds.

In his spare time, Banslaben volunteers to help more surfers and water-sports enthusiasts in the New York City area get involved in environmentalism. He serves as the chairman of the New York City chapter of Surfrider, a national organization dedicated to cleaning up and protecting U.S. coastlines. Founded in 2000 with the slogan “Aloha, Yo!,” Surfrider NYC has quickly accrued more than 700 members, about three dozen of whom meet once a month at the Patagonia store on Wooster Street in SoHo. There, they launch into the issues affecting local beaches with the same vigor that helps them tackle breakers on a windy day.

At the Nov. 9 meeting, guest speaker Beau Ranheim of the New York City Department of Environmental Protection got a first-hand dose of this zeal as he attempted to answer questions about the water quality in the New York harbor and its tributaries.

Penned in by eight rows of wooden benches and scores of penetrating eyes, Ranheim gave an elaborate history of city water treatment, stressing how much better things have gotten since the bad old days when chamber pots were dumped directly into the ocean. He estimated that the harbor now meets New York State standards for bacterial content 80 to 90 percent of the time. As the questions came flying, though, Ranheim began to backpedal.

When pressed, Ranheim disclosed that waters like Jamaica Bay are judged by less stringent standards because people are not expected to swim in them. While holding to the belief that New York’s waters have improved steadily since treatment plants were fully modernized in 1988, he conceded that heavy rainstorms and polluted tributaries like the Gowanus Canal continue to affect the system. If it rains hard enough, Ranheim said, the city’s sewers overflow, dumping diluted raw sewage into the harbor.

“Water quality is not something that you can snap your fingers at and fix,” Ranheim concluded. “So just keep doing what you’re doing. Keep complaining so the city will keep listening.”

Water quality is one of the latest education campaigns to be launched by Surfrider, which also fights for eco-friendly beach replenishment on Long Beach and organizes beach cleanups on both Long Beach and Rockaway.

Although New York City surfers are willing to travel great distances for their sport, following the swells to New Jersey, Long Island and beyond, many look on Rockaway as the home turf of city surfing. The peninsula, which is technically part of Queens, is known in geological terms as a barrier beach. Stretching 11 miles from western Long Island out to the edge of Coney Island, Rockaway is nature’s gift to New York City. It protects the metropolis from the perpetual, surging onslaught of Atlantic waves – waves that are just an A-train ride away.

Because of its accessibility and the availability of cheap housing in some of its less desirable neighborhoods, Rockaway has seen dozens of surfers move to its shores in recent years. Known in the surfing community as “bungalocals” because they inhabit the beach bungalows leftover from Rockaway’s bygone summer resort era, these riders often wake up at dawn to catch waves before heading into Manhattan for work.

Living steps from the beach heightens an already strong connection between these surfers and the environment that they surf in. Even surfers who are not Surfrider members say that caring about clean water and picking up trash off the beach go hand in hand with enjoying the waves.

“You don’t have to be a tree-hugger to care about the world around you,” said Tim Hill, who works for the National Audubon Society, lives in Rockaway Beach and fixes surfboards for fun in his backyard. “Surfers care more about their environment than the average, everyday urbanite because surfers don’t want to surf in a toilet bowl. All that garbage on the beach will eventually end up in our beautiful water.”

Hill, like many city surfers, spends a few minutes picking up trash after each surfing session. Though he no longer actively participates in Surfrider, Hill was a leader in the organization back when it began its most heralded political battle to date – the fight to officially legalize surfing on Rockaway.

Although surfers had been riding the waves on Rockaway’s beaches for decades, it was technically illegal under a series of New York State health code statutes dating back to the 1850s. In 2003, following personnel changes at the New York Police Department’s 100th precinct, local officers began enforcing the statutes, issuing tickets to surfers.

Alarmed, Rockaway residents and Surfrider members began to fight back, working with local officials to have the codes changed. In July of 2004, the statutes were officially amended and in April of 2005, the city went a step farther, opening a surfing-only beach between 88 th and 92 nd Streets.

In the minds of some New York surfers, however, Surfrider’s successes have come at a cost. With more publicity, the popularity of surfing among city dwellers has risen exponentially, driving more people into the waters by day and filling the bungalows with surfboards like never before. Fearing the loss of their unique culture and previously wide-open surfing space, the riders who frequent the popular Internet message boards on newyorksurf.com and nynjsurf.com often treat information-seeking newcomers to a reception that is as icy as the harbor waters in January.

Going by online identities like Sandshark, boyeee and Looseness, these surfers form a vocal cyberspace sub-clique of the surfing community at large.

“No one wants some Kook (new surfer) coming to their break and floundering around in the waves they are trying to surf,” reads a Nov. 15 post by skSURF on nynjsurf.com. “Also it’s not discussed because if you don’t know you don’t belong.”

Alex Karinsky, an Australian transplant who moved to Rockaway Beach three years ago, recalls that back in 2002 he could walk out of his house just after dawn and be the only person in the water. These days, he says, as many as a dozen surfers will be out catching waves before 6:30 a.m., even in the winter.

This influx has made veteran city surfers – even those who steer clear of the message boards – nervous that the newbies will not only crowd their beaches but create dangerous situations by violating surf etiquette in waters that are largely unprotected by lifeguards. Nearly every city surfer can rattle off stories about how inexperienced or uninformed surfers have “dropped in” on them – the surfing equivalent of cutting someone off in traffic.

Banslaben says Surfrider is considering posting signs on the surfing beach next summer, reminding users to be clean, safe and courteous. Though far less polite, the social barriers of the message board scene also work to ensure that new surfers are serious and ready to play by the rules. If a newcomer passes muster, he or she can be admitted into a circle that offers friendship as well as advice, equipment and detailed analyses of coming weather patterns and their possible effect on the surfing conditions.

“To be frank, it’s a lot more hardcore here because of what you have to deal with with the elements,” said Karinsky, comparing the New York surf culture to the larger and more mainstream community in his native Australia. “Every one here is so focused on [surfing]. They call each other to say where the surf is good. They are always following it, chasing it, jonesing for it more than they do elsewhere.”

For surfers who have grown up in the space-starved New York metro area, the sport is especially meaningful. Banslaben, who recalls giving up summer camp as an adolescent so that he could afford a new surfboard, has used his coastal activism as a vehicle to surf beaches around the world.

Eighteen-year-old Jimmy Nellen, who has lived his entire life on Beach 74 th Street in the Arverne section of Rockaway, credits surfing with keeping him and his older brother, Andrew, on track despite the prevalence of drugs and violence in their neighborhood.

“Our mother bought us boards. She always said it would keep us off the streets and it did,” said Jimmy Nellen, who is now studying education at Kingsborough College. “We would surf all day and come home and go right to sleep.”

Because of his experiences in Arverne, Nellen diverges from many of his colleagues in his views about the growing popularity of Rockaway. Although he, too, believes that new surfers need to understand the rules of etiquette, he feels that there is enough ocean to go around. Eventually, he hopes, more crowds on the beaches might help spur the revival of Rockaway’s long-stagnant economy.

“Rockaway has lots of miles of beach,” Nellen said. “If they could just develop it, put up stores along the boardwalk, it would give people jobs.”

The Thursday before Thanksgiving was a busy day for Nellen. After surfing all morning, he headed off to his job in Manhattan, where he teaches youngsters how to swim. Then, around 8 p.m., he traveled to the Lower East Side to join his brother at a bistro/bar called Manahatta.

There, the New York City surfing community stood bathed in the flickering light of a wall-sized projection screen. It was the premiere of “Always Right,” a new video showcasing the best rides and wipeouts from the right – that is, east – coast surfing scene.

Teenagers in backward caps and Vans sneakers perched atop the low, polished tables while grown men in dress shirts mingled, sipping $6 beers. They were all there – the activists from Surfrider with their stacks of literature, the Rockaway locals, the transplants, the insular message-board crowd. And they were all rapt as the video portrayed surfers in full-body wetsuits cruising past high-rise buildings on waves the color of wet cement. They sighed and cheered in recognition. This was Atlantic surfing on display, northeastern surfing … New York City surfing.

Some younger surfers, like 20-year-old Andrew Nellen (who always goes by his message-board moniker “Jake”) still channel a touch of Jeff Spicoli when speaking about their community.

“If you are going to join a subculture, this is the one to join,” Jake said with a smirk as he surveyed the crowd at Manahatta. “Because we throw the best parties.”

But those who have been around the block, like Banslaben and Karinsky, have only reverence for the passion shared by New York’s unique guild of surfers.

“Surfing is one of those rare experiences where you are literally immersed in the medium,” Banslaben said. “Most surfers are inspired by the power of the ocean.

The Hold-Down

SeaCliff — Mon, 16 Oct 2006 01:13:01 +0000

by SeaCliff as originally published in The Reading Room on NYNJSurf.com

Time.

Time to contemplate.

A few moments, a handful of seconds. Time to think.

Time.

Time to replay it all.

What went wrong, what went right.

Wave selection, takeoff spot, maneuvers. Closeout.

Time. Moments. Seconds. To recount the rise, to regret the fall.

The thoughts come calmy, even in the midst of confusion.

Trapped, jumbled, tumbled, disoriented.

And oddly serene.

Her grip is tight, no point in struggle.

In the depths she’ll teach me.

I’ll allow her to take me, and I’ll know

She’ll give me my release, like countless times before.

In time, things will clear.

I will see the flaws and learn.

In the water, I see the light. I learn the lesson. I see the way.

Even as my chest tightens, I see the way.

And I find it is now time.

Time to break through. To take a breath.

Time to do it.

Again.
.

Copyright 2006. All rights reserved.

Rating the Surf - How do the months compare?

SeaCliff — Thu, 28 Sep 2006 01:23:13 +0000

by little_nasty, as published on NYNJSurf.com September 26, 2006

Using a ranking scale of 1 to 6+, where 1 is flat or marginal surf and anything 6+ is epic, here’s a composite look at how the months compare by looking at the percentage of days in each ranking. Data is compiled from retrospective analysis, 1996-2005.

For a full size view, click here.