Day one of quarantine freedom began with a trip to the airport to pick up my stand-up surfboard. I was visiting Oahu 3 years ago and brought my 8’10” Naish Alana with me, but she didn’t make it home. I had flown in on United but failed to check with Air Canada for the return flight and the parameters of board schlepping. I had an airport freak zone moment when my intent to fly home with my board was denied. In the end it worked out. My board stayed put in Hawaii with neighbors – a fortuitous detail given my current circumstances, but not one I was aware of at the time.
Alana arrived to Kona safe and sound, but had suffered a broken side bite in an unfortunate mishap with a lawnmower. Stop number 2 was a rinky dink surf shop in Kona for a replacement fin. I got my first hit of the aloha spirit here. The owner dug through his stash and hooked me up with a used one for $13 then proceeded to freely share tips on the best Big Island breaks for a SUP surfer. He let me borrow a Phillips and a fin key to get Alana situated for her first salty session. Mahalo!
Treading Lightly at a New Break
Busting into a new line-up on a stand-up paddleboard can/should be a delicate process. The last thing I want to do is piss off the locals wielding a big fat board. Oh HEY everyone! New haole (Hawaiian slang for white person), kid over here riding in to steal all your waves! Nope. Bad idea. Tread lightly. I can hold my own out there, but am no sick shredder. The treading lightly dance is as much about my fragile ego as it is about surf/SUP etiquette.
I had been drooling for two weeks through the telescope watching a break just below the house – fairly consistent waist to shoulder high peelers every morning. Kona isn’t known for surf like Oahu, but I don’t need much to be blissing it up out there. On day one, anything will do. I just want to get wet. Without knowing it, I bee-lined to the very break I had been stalking – Kahalu’u Bay. What would normally be a packed parking lot was essentially empty. I’m getting to see a Hawaii sans tourists, but still feel like one.
My last session was in mid October at Higgins Beach in Portland, ME – 45 degree air and water meant 4/3 rubber, numb digits and a frozen headache with every submersion. I will not miss neoprene EVER. Grateful to be all done with the wetsuit shuffle.
I sat contemplating on the rocky beach for a while, scoping the scene. Lava rock entries are tricky and tough on the feet. I was duking it out with my monkey brain – nervous and the waves weren’t even big. I have this conversation with myself every time there’s a lull in my wave riding. Surfing is the thing that brings me the greatest joy outside of my kids, yet I always get the jitters. Some of this is lack of practice, some of it is ocean power, but most of it is ego. I don’t want to look the fool. I will welcome the day when I just don’t care how I look, but that day hasn’t come yet. Goals are good.
I’ve surfed alone a bunch, but it feels particularly daunting on this day. It’s nice to have someone on your back out there, someone to talk story with. I will get there. Just smile and nod and look competent. This is what you love Ali – a huge part of the reason you’re even here. Please can we just have fun? Can we just shut down the brain for a hot minute and be present? Despite the ridiculous internal dialogue and sewing machine legs, I did manage to notice the sheer bliss of floating in sparkly turquoise water bathed in warm sun. I made it. I’m surfing in Hawaii! YASSSSS!!!
The cob webs washed away with the first few waves. I had some idle chit chat with a couple people. I made sure to let them know I’m not a tourist. New kid, yes. Tourist, no. I’ll be out here every morning and I’m cool, I promise, despite the paddleboard. Insecure posturing much? Whether on the first day of kindergarten, finding a seat in the high school cafeteria, or 50 years old in a new surf line-up – being the new kid is uncomfortable. I’m ok with that.
I see you fear. I’m just not listening.
