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It feels so weird not being in Hawaii this season. It’s the first one I’ve missed for years |
Pancho Sullivan, Off The Wall.
It feels so weird not being in Hawaii this season. It’s the first one I’ve missed for years – although I may try and dilute that feeling by going later in the season. It’s different then though. Better in a way, quieter. But lacking the Drama, the feeling of Mecca, of the Best of the Best being tossed into the cauldron of Biggest of the Biggest.
During the season proper, the intensity of the arena is almost matched by the intensity of the players. Bristling egos, a mass of hyperventilating gladiators, testosterone all but exuding from the air, like some death or glory ubiquitous vapour that you can almost taste. The startling number of surfers willing to take on the scariest waves; that is intimidating by itself. Am I the only one who is scared and apprehensive? The vast multitude that seem to just take these often frightening conditions in stride, like it was a walk in the park.
Pat Gadauskas, Pipeline.
Even the photographers exude this air of “whatever”, whilst heading down to swim out in evil, shallow closeouts, risking our lives to – maybe – get a 300 dollar shot. It is the pissing contest of pissing contests, and if you can manage a super casual yawn in the midst of the most intense predicament, so much the better. It’s funny though, actually it’s endearing really, that when the shit hits the fan, the camaraderie shines through the viscous vanity. If someone gets hurt, or is in potential trouble, then even the most hardcore hellmen are there, as if all along they were family. It’s really nice to know that all that bravado and posturing is ultimately acknowledged as just that, and that the surfing brethren, our sacred fraternity, will close ranks when it counts. When you need a hand on the North Shore, REALLY need a hand, it is right there. Just as quickly, or even quicker, than the back of that hand is there if you act disrespectfully. In that sense, there is a consistency of treatment that is always obvious.
Nathan Hedge, Honolua Bay.
That is part of the essence of real Aloha, the fact that it is not thrown around like confetti and thus diluted and valueless. It is a two way street of respect and courtesy, it is in a way earned, and thus when it is received, so much more meaningful for that reason.
Dane Reynolds, Pipe Masters, 2010.
Another major bummer about not being there is missing Keiran Perrow’s Pipeline Masters victory. Talk about karma! Who on the planet couldn’t be stoked with his win? Especially after last year’s heartbreaking last minute defeat by Jeremy Flores. I reckon even Parko’s closest friends and family would be happy for Keiran. The Hawaiians would be especially pleased, as Keiran’s humble charging at Pipe/Backdoor/OTW has earned him deep respect from the locals. It has to be the ultimate feel good story in the whole of pro surfing’s rich annals, and I can only imagine how much satisfaction he will get from the win in the years to come. I can just picture him kicking back on his deck at Byron in his 60’s, beer in one hand and grandkids in the other, eyes welling up as he tells of his great victory for the thousandth time, and feeling just about as content as a person can.
It felt so weird not being in Hawaii this season, but shit I’m glad KP was there.
Molokai.
Words and photos David Sparkes
