Sunday, May 2, 2010
I grew up in Santa Cruz, a surf town in Northern California. We lived close to the water and surfing was everywhere. The surf report was on the radio every morning and surfing was a P.E. elective at our high school. I spent long days at the beach. I went to surf movies with my friends at the Santa Cruz Civic Auditorium and spent most of those evenings ducking the Frisbees that flew through the air. Surf culture was fascinating and inescapable.
I don’t surf. I don’t even swim.
I still love to watch surfing. I am particularly drawn to big wave riding. Big wave surfers are towed out on their boards by boat or jet-ski to waves that are too large to paddle to, waves that can be as many as 70ft high. It’s an extremely dangerous sport and breathtaking to watch. This link is a compilation from the documentary Laird, a film about Laird Hamilton, a big wave riding legend. Watching this is thrilling and never ceases to give me a small anxiety attack.
All early model Volkswagons still look naked to me without surf racks.