Written by Roxanne Andrews.
Hawaii’s North Shore reigns supreme as a bucket list surfing destination. It is a sacred place of pilgrimage for core surfers and a beacon for hangers-on, you know the type, the crew with all the gear and little to no idea, those hoping to catch a glimpse or at least absorb a bit of the feeling (that yes, only a surfer knows it) by being in the proximity of the 7-mile stretch that’s home to some of the most well-known waves on the planet, Pipe, etc. without paddling in. I’m not here to separate the punters from the posers, that can be done at any beach carpark with a laugh. I’m here to check in to Turtle Bay Resort and meet up with Jamie O’Brien and his adaptive surf instructor colleague, Victoria Feige to see what programs they have happening.
But first, I wanted to share that my allure for the North Shore was born some 20 years before when watching my mate from Burleigh, Turtle (the perfect nickname for this story) train for his annual trip to Sunset. He did this with breathwork (wayyy before it was trending) drills at a quiet resort pool in Currumbin. I’d observe his froth (and commitment) build firsthand in anticipation of his disappearance from the Gold Coast to Hawaii from mid-November to late December (maybe January if the money stretched). A humble bloke and a proper charger, Turtle’s stoke was infectious. We lived vicariously through his North Shore tales (surfing, partying) as he regaled the group of motley mates/doped youth who did not have their life together enough to jet off to Hawaii too.
Finally, decades later, my holiday to the big island comes to fruition and I’m on my way to Turtle Bay. The Kamehameha Highway from Honolulu chucks up plenty of pineapple plantations and oversized pick-up trucks and by the time I round the corner of Waimea Bay and the church comes into view I’m properly excited, I don’t play it cool, because duh I’m too old to give a shit and the image of a lush white sand beach with white horses stacked to the horizon (the waves are sizeable yet unrideable due to shit winds) is so pretty it makes me giddy. The North Shore energy is palpably walking a metaphorical thin line between welcoming and warning. Whatever it is…I get it.
My first impression of Turtle Bay Resort is positive. I’d mistakenly envisioned a stuffy/forced surf vibe environment and am happy to be proven wrong. This is a classy establishment, but a laid-back vibe is more than acceptable. And, if you’re not renting a private home, this is the only North Shore hotel, so…
My suite has a sweet panoramic view of the heaving Pacific and the sound of the ocean rumbles and humbles me to sleep, then wakes me with its heavy licks and lolling rhythm. Standing on the balcony evokes a ‘pinch me’ moment and a personal epiphany that clicks into an understanding of ‘Ahhh so this is why any surfer worth their salt needs to come to the North Shore. I also feel lucky! The doorbell buzzes and a loaf of fresh banana cake is presented, a welcoming gift, a bottle of bubbles would be preferred but I like the forced memory-making intimacy of this, plus it’s delicious. I post a pic on my Instagram stories and the ghosts of ex-boyfriends past land unexpectedly in my inbox, ‘Oh hey, you’re in Hawaii’. I leave it on read just as a Chinook military chopper whisks by overhead.
The next morning the surf is tiny, so I head down to the Jamie O’Brien Surf Experience to meet with 5 x times world para surfing champion, Victoria Feige. Her energy is buzzing and she’s keen to take me out at Kawela Bay on a 9ft foamie to show me what guests can expect from a session with her. We scoot into a buggy (converted for a wheelchair) and zip off past the stables at Turtle Bay (yes, beach horse riding is available) and arrive at an almost empty break with long, rolling waves. At first, I’m a tad disconcerted as Victoria manoeuvres across the sand to the shoreline with board in hand and I wonder if I should offer assistance. Instead, I say nothing, which is wise because before I open my naïve trap it’s evident this chick has got her park to paddle-out process dialled. For the next half hour, we talk about her love of the sport, her passion for protecting the marine environment and for teaching newbies surf skills and etiquette. It’s impossible not to admire her professional and personal achievements. My own stories seem lame by comparison. Suffice to say I have a fun time, gliding along crystal clear waves, watching the honu (turtles) beneath and falling flat as the reef is barely a foot from the surface and Victoria has given clear instructions.
I spend the afternoon on the Arnold Palmer-designed championship golf course at Turtle Bay and am distracted by the abundance of wildlife in my midst. An actual albatross makes an appearance (likely the only one I’ll ever see/experience during a game of golf). I also spy an endangered Hawaiian Monk Seal sunning on the beach right by the 18th. It’s a surreal moment because I’d dreamt about a seal the week prior (it was such a clear vision on awakening) and now it feels like I’m in a quantum-esque, extended Déjà vu-like realm. I tell this story to Jamie O when I see him, one because he’s a waterman and I figure he sees sea creatures all the time here and two because I’m hoping he might know of a local cultural meaning for the seal. He listens to me and says, ‘That’s so cool you got to see one and that’s super rare, I don’t know of any mythical meaning but feel like it was looking for you…for whatever reason’.
I ponder this exchange as I sit sipping the ubiquitous Mai Tai at Roy’s Beach House and tuck into a plate of ribs. I wonder if Eddie Aikau spent much time around here and figure many members of surfing royalty have enjoyed beers and a feed at this very spot. In the 70s it was known as the Kuilima Resort and pro surfers would venture out to stuff themselves at the smorgasbord, the hungry ones would even discretely stash away food for later consumption. The Kuilima was also where a posse of the Australian Pros hid out during the volatile winter of ‘76/’77 when the Ozis were accused of being to brash and ambitious and threatened with violent reprisals.
These days you’re more likely to find the pros enjoying Ahi plates and ribs at up-market Lei Leis, the restaurant attached to the hotel’s golf course. In modern times, some of pro surfing’s biggest parties have gone down in the Turtle Bay function rooms. Tipsy pro-surfers have also been known to grab the microphone and launch into song on karaoke nights.
The hotel was a setting for Hollywood films – Pirates of the Caribbean and the hilarious Forgetting Sarah Marshall with that classic Kalani Robb cameo – but now that the Ritz-Carlton has bought in, I wonder how the hotel will evolve.
Presently, I feel that being here is akin to meeting with a long-lost friend. In any case, I know I’ll be lured back again and hopefully there will be waves.
