Originally, history was learned through the generations by the passing down of spoken words. To this day, just about every existing culture even subculture has a form of the spoken word that remains a focal point for social gatherings and the learning experience. For Beatniks and Hipsters it's "Poetry Slams", for Aviators it's "Hangar Flying", in Hawai'i it's' called "Talk Story". Since this memory has surfing at the core and contemporary surfing has it's origin in Hawai'i and Hawai'ian culture holds a special place in the hearts of Surfers, dis one gon' be call "Talk Story" yeah.
We moved to California in August 1965 when I was 6. I knew what surfing was from pictures and I already had a skateboard for some time. There was no surfing going on in Washington in those days though, so I hadn't seen it in action yet, although I do recall seeing a Surfer in a TV commercial when I was 5 or so. I remember it was hot the day we arrived in California. Dad had already driven his '62 Ford Falcon down and picked Mom, David, me and baby Ben up at Lindbergh Field in San Diego and drove us up to Laguna Beach where we had a motel apartment for the first couple of weeks. It must have been a Sunday because the very next day Dad went off to work. The place happened to be just a short walk from Crescent Bay, one of the most beautiful beaches there is. Mom got us all ready and we headed out for the beach. Before we even got there, we saw three teenage boys with surfboards walking toward the beach as well. I was particularly interested that the youngest (or just smallest) one had a board that was smaller too. I looked up at my Mom, pointed at the Surfers and said "That's for me".
Mom's reaction to my new found passion was less than enthusiastic. More like fear, "No, you'll hurt yourself"! What? That was confusing. I thought it was supposed be a fun thing. Compounding that confusion, I saw the lads out in the water a short time later, appearing to be unharmed and having fun.
Well, to our parents' credit they had the wisdom to have David and I attend swimming lessons about a year before moving to California. Perhaps they knew there would be no stopping us from becoming Surfers. Indeed, one of my best memories from that first year in Laguna Beach is when David and I went bodysurfing at Christmastime that same year, Main Beach no one else in sight. A warm Santa Ana day as I recall. The water may have been a bit cold, but toasty compared to Puget Sound from whence we came!
Fast forward 17 years to Christmas Day 1982... At 23 I had finally mustered the will and resources to make the pilgrimage every accomplished Surfer dreams of and arrived to the North Shore of Oahu for the first time about a week earlier. That Christmas day, the tide and swell forecast favored an afternoon session at Pipeline so there was no hurry, no "Dawn Patrol" and we had a hearty breakfast and a gift exchange at John Dade's "Waimea Bay Bed and Breakfast" where I was staying. We headed out to Pipeline around 1:00pm and it was 4 to 6 feet on the sets and building. After a couple hours the tide was dropping, the set waves were now 10 feet and starting to break another 50 yards or so further out. I tried for one of the bigger rights and took a good thumping. Stood on the beach a few minutes to catch my breath and saw three set waves in a row go unridden and each blew a huge spit. On the next set, one wave barreled and spit three times, again unridden and it was pretty crowded. I paddled back out and just as I reached the waiting crowd I see more set waves peeling outside and no one has stepped up yet, they are all still lined up for what is now the inside peak. I kept paddling and got to be the first to snag one of the now even bigger lefts that day, a thick double peak with just enough of a slot to drop in, deep in the huge tube backside no need to crouch, blinding, stinging spray pushed me out right in the middle of that crowd, now hooting at least as loud as the booming waves. The same wave gave me another tuberide after a big roundhouse cutback through the crowd of people. I got a few more very nice waves that day but none quite like that one. Truly a Christmas to remember and a wave of a lifetime.
Well Mom, I guess your argument against Surfing just wasn't very convincing.
Vernon Johnson