What up fellow hodads?? Recently, my good friend El barney reached out to me to share my experience of chasing a dream. He found my story compelling as it is similar to his, yet different. It is always great to have multiple perspectives and I was honored to be asked to shred the gnarly world of blogging and to have this segment!
With that being said, I write to you happily and humbly from the enchanting islands of Hawai’i. I am not a Hawaiian, nor do I claim to be. This would be seen as a great offence on the account of me being an irresponsible knucklehead. I’m just your average haole looking to share a couple tasty waves and cold brews with whomever will tolerate me. Shipping off to the islands was not something that I had planned on. For the most part, it was an unattainable lust I felt fall through my fingers during regular twilight hallucinations. I was stuck like everyone else on the East Coast, doomed to surf the frigid ice waters of the north.
East coast swells were few and far between but when we got lucky, the waves nuked. For the most part, line-ups weren’t too crowded. This was due to the majority of our surf season taking place between the glacial months of August and January. We wore 5/4mm wetsuits with hoodies. 7mm gloves/footsies as well as some liquid courage was a must. Needless to say, only the people who were nuts enough to deal with this shit just to score a couple waves were out charging. The real psychos lingered in the drink till March. February and March were far too cold unless you had yeti blood coursing through your veins. Even the men in grey suits would take the winter off to visit their dear relatives in Florida.
Early in my surf career, my compadre Barney and I would go on dawn patrol whenever we could get away from our ‘studies’. ‘Studies’ can be defined as drinking until one can no longer drink. When the Blarney Stone (our local bar) was closed, we would spend our time scouring the local spots for waves. We would spend hours in the car going up and down the coast searching for the perfect peak. This ritual became sacred to us. I attribute my thirst for surf and continual improvement to these many hours of hunting with my friend.
On one of our early hunts, Barney and I found ourselves shivering on the side of the road somewhere in New York. The snow was coming down hard all around us. This was the first time we would surf in December. The waves were firing. We were fired up. Barney had a 3/2 wetsuit and I had the same with holes peppered all over. I had a feeling it was going to be cold, so to prepare, I was equipped with a second wetsuit. I had borrowed a shorty from my girlfriend at the time that I put on over my long sleeve 3/2. Let me just say, it is imperative to be wrapped in neoprene before exiting your vehicle. Bravely (there is a fine line between being brave and stupid), we grabbed our boards and headed to the water. Our walk to the beach was a quick one. The sand was so cold. We did not have footies. We did not have gloves. After a while, we lost feeling in both. It was time to get in.
As you can imagine, the water was numbing. We fought. I think we realized the gravity of our situation once getting hit in the face with the first wave of ice. Cold water has a way of entering your suit, crawling down your back, and shocking you to the core. When your head is under for more than a few seconds, you feel a piercing pain pounding in your skull. We were not equipped for this. My double wetsuit nonsense only served to suffocate me. We did not pass the break. We did not catch waves. But we did learn something. We were humbled by our experience. We learned quickly that you must respect the ocean and the conditions. If you don’t know, you must learn. Barney and I bee-lined for the beach and back to safety in the car. The best part about surfing in the winter is that you have to take off your wetsuit before getting into the warm car with warm clothes. This proves to be quite the task when you have ice cubes for fingers. It is suggested to have a surf buddy help you remove neoprene. Once you have pants on, you get in the car.
Even though I have been surfing ‘seriously’ for a couple years now, I feel like I have the same mentality as when I started. I am always searching for the perfect wave. I am always stoked to get wet. I am lucky to have this passion that has helped me so much. I am glad to share it with whoever. – Junkyard Hodad
