localswell

What’s the longest layoff you’ve had from surfing? Do you remember what it felt like when you first hit the water again?

It had been more than a month – a crazy, sleep deprived, identity questioning new baby new job month – when I finally grabbed the old 9’0’ from under my sister’s house over the July 4^th weekend. The second the lifeguards whistled their 6 o’clock farewell, I was running toward the water.

It was small, summer  afternoon windswell, but glassy enough and fun. The kind of day you watch from the beach and think you’ll get nothing, but when you get out, you are surprised by what a good longboard can do on small waves. Still, it wasn’t waves I caught that still stick with me from that session. It was just being there again, just being in the water, on a board.  

It was like I had been in a sensory deprivation chamber for eight weeks and suddenly was back, feeling and seeing again. I hadn’t thought about this much, but it struck me that minute I hit the water and started paddling out, how surfing so completely involves every sense you have. Is there another sport that does that? Is there another sport in which you are feeling so much – the water on your skin, the temperature, the motion and power of the ocean. Where you are actually tasting – (and yes, I find the ocean tastes varies from season to season and place to place) the medium in which you are performing? Any sport with such unique sounds – from the roar of the ocean to seagulls? Never mind any sport - is there any other activity - any art, any religious ritual, any pricey luxury spa treatment that can do all that?

The waves were fun that day. It was a classic midsummer, end of the day silly sesh with lots of groms and kooks and everyone having fun. I took to sitting on the board and finally sitting down during a few rides and doing some coffins. There are times to keep it light like that, and this was one of those times. It felt so good. It sounded good. It tasted good. And man, oh man, was it good.

The Shaun Board

By: TJ Forkin / Maso

I remember as a grom attending surf movies at the Community Center in Ocean City and the anticipation of seeing Shaun, Rabbit and Mark Richards surfing perfect waves in Hawaii, the smell of grape surf wax and whooting with your best friends at Shaun getting the “longest tube rides ever”. None of us could wait until the next day to get in the water for a surf. They were our idols our surf heroes and they were changing our sport forever.

A few years later I was fortunate enough to make the NSSA National Team (82-84) and had the opportunity to surf with Tommy Curren, Mike Parsons, Jeff Booth and Brad Gerlach to name a few. Peter Townend and Ian Cairns were our coaches; brought on board by NSSA co founder Chuck Allen to ramp up our training. Hawaii was the proving ground and PT and Ian were committed to having us there for a month. Four months after making the Team I was packing for Hawaii and wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into.

At the time, I was riding for Stewart Surfboards out of San Clemente California were I spent a few summers working in his old shop on El Camino Reale. Bill was a great guy and excellent shaper. I had ordered a small quiver of boards for Hawaii, a 5’10” a 6’6” and a 6’10”. I figured if it was too big for the 6’10” I figured I would just sit on the beach and watch.

I flew out of Philly International to LAX and stayed with Chris Frohoff and his family for a few days in the South Bay Area. We surfed Manhattan Beach Pier and Redondo Break Water with friends and fellow teammates Kelly Gibson and Nick Christensen. The crew wanted to try out their new shapes for Hawaii, and I had a chance to see some 7’6” rhino chasers, and started to feel, well a little “short”.

Parsons came up the night before we flew out for the Islands as Frohoff lived about 20 minutes from the airport as opposed to two hours for Snips from San Clemente. Parsons got his nick-name from Ian’s wife Pat, who called him “Parsnips”, which we soon shortened to Snips. Mike wasn’t one to chance being late for a flight or a surf session and to avoid traffic he came up early. We stayed up late that night talking about what to expect and the schedule of events we had and breaks we would surf. Most of the guys on the NSSA team had boards shaped for the trip by Hawaiian Shapers, while other picked up used boards there from some of the touring pros.

The flight was relatively uneventful. No one lost their boards and we arrived with a sense of anticipation in the air, which was fresh with Aloha and island flowers. Driving over the hills and through the pineapple fields to the North Shore, I had my first chance to see Hawaiian surf.

We had three vans and a bit of a caravan driving through Haleiwa, seeing all the places I had only seen in the magazines and movies. I was stoked. Our destination was the Kui Lima condos for what would be roughly a month of surfing the North Shore.

Unloading our boards, Ian and PT had their first glimpse at what they perceived as my equipment problem. “Forkin what the fuck do you think you are riding with those boards? This isn’t Puerto Rico mate”. I related that if it was too big for my 6’10” I would simply sit out and become a spectator. Neither PT nor Ian were having it. I was informed off the bat that we were there to ride big waves and get experience. PT then told me to set aside $100.00 and he was going to find me a used board from one of his “mates”.

It was late in the afternoon and the winds were side shore so we all slipped out for a quick session in front of the condos at “Turtle Bay”. The surf was a little overhead and lined up, with some hollow sections. This was a super fun session, and I began to think, “Hell this isn’t so big. I can surf Hawaii”…

Snips and Froh had been to Hawaii the year before so they knew what to expect. Mike had a few boards that he picked up from Bobby Owens and was kind enough to loan me one for our first session at Sunset the following morning. The swell had developed over night and we could hear the surf from our rooms.

The Hawaiians loved us (ha ha). We were “porta crowd”, we would show up with 15 kids and people simply shook their heads. We pulled up to Sunset and it looked good, not too big but large enough to say “hey we’re out there”. Suddenly I saw what appeared to be a person dropping in way outside, and I had this lump in my throat the size of a tennis ball. Easily triple overhead. The great thing about Sunset is that you can paddle out in the channel and sit there for a while and gradually work yourself into the lineup, which is exactly what I did for an hour. Sitting there taking it all in. The bad thing about Sunset is the constantly shifting peaks, right, left, inside OUTSIDE. After getting caught with a couple of cleanup sets I worked up the nutz to take off on what had been the biggest wave I had ever surfed to that moment. I made the drop and bottom turn and raced to the Channel. Not a big set wave, but huge by my standards. While some of the guys were ripping, I just wanted to “make the waves”. I was so happy to be on my borrowed 7’6” Bobby Owens, and needed every inch of that board.

One wave in particular was an inside section that jacked up, I slotted myself and got a nice tube ride for about 20 brief yards before I bailed out the back. However, no sooner did I take a gasp of air out the back of the wave, I felt myself getting sucked back into the pit. Worse fear becoming a reality, being stuck and drilled at inside Sunset. I thought for sure I was going to drown. Pitched over the falls backwards and tossed around like a ragdoll. Nothing in my swimming / lifeguard background had prepped me for that. After a five wave set on my head, I threw up about a gallon of water clutching to my board and paddled toward the channel were PT was shaking his head laughing; “Forkin, are you finished trying to drown yourself and start surfing”. Apparently eating shit in Hawaiian surf is some sort of right of passage.

When we got back to the Kui, Ian came and got me and informed me he had a friend who had a used gun for me. After a few knocks on the door of a beachfront unit across the way from were we were lodged, the door opens and who stands there? Shaun Tomson, my idol. I was speechless and simply stood there with my mouth open. “Shaun this is Tom one of our lads from the team and he needs a board for Sunset”; “Please to meet you Tom”; like a total kook I responded, “I am a huge fan Shaun and I am so stoked to finally meet you”. Ian and Shaun laughed and I felt, well like a kid meeting his childhood hero. Immediately Shaun Tomson makes that impression of a kind and all round good guy.

Shaun’s Mom and Cousin Mike were there as well, as I was introduced as “the kid from New Jersey”; Mrs. Tomson fixed some Ice Tea and Mike seemed fascinated that “people surf in New Jersey?”…”In the Snow?” Shaun walked Ian and me in the back of the condo where there had to be roughly 20 plus boards of all different shapes colors and sizes. After briefly sizing me up, Shaun picks a board, a 7’6” Tom Parish with a glassed in fin; “Tom this should do the trick, it’s one of my favorite boards, so when you head back to the mainland I would like it back”. I was stoked for the board, but bummed that I would have to return it at end of the trip.

Ian and PT had set up some tutorials with Shaun, Mark Richards and Gerry Lopez. They would meet us at spots or at the Kui and give us some pointers and sit in for some post mortem Q & A.

Over the course of the month we were there, my life became very surreal. Surfing spots I only dreamed of and with surfers that I worshipped. While I wasn’t surfing anywhere near their level, I was making waves and having the time of my life on my “new” board. I never really rode the 5”10 or 6’6” again that trip other than at a smallish day at Makaha. The “Shaun board” had a mind of it’s own, it flew around sections at Sunset, Off The Wall, Back Door and Rocky Rights with a few memorable sessions at Laniakia.

I loved that board and it showed. The smile would not come off my face for the entire trip, until the final day when the board had to be returned. After surfing a few sessions with Shaun and our group, I was a bit more comfortable speaking to him, while still a little nervous. I walked over to his condo with the board tucked firmly under my arm. Shaun opens the door with a big smile, “Tom how was your surfing today”? We talked about the session that day and a brief review of the trip and how Hawaii factored into every surfers life. When I reminded him I was there to return the board, Shaun made the surprising statement “Tom you surfed well on the board and I would like you to keep it”. I was STOKED! Shaun walked me to the door and shook my hand “Tom it was a pleasure”…Cloud nine was mine, what an amazing guy. “Surfed well?”..I suppose that was less than “surfing good”, but I came out unscathed and now had a board from my childhood idol. We packed that night to fly out early the next morning, as I took some extra care in securing my treasure for the flight home. Today it truly seems like another lifetime ago.

As the years passed, I returned to Hawaii only twice and never met up with Shaun again. My focus was on completing my undergraduate studies and then law school. I rode the board only a few times after that first year. It became a fixture in my home in Villanova and later in Stone Harbor where I owned a restaurant (Mimi’s) with two condo’s above. In 96 when I sold Mimi’s, the board went missing one winter when the property was empty and being shown by our real estate agent.

In 2002, I received a phone call from my cousin Greg at Surfers Supplies who informs me “your board’s here, I’m looking at it right now”. My board? I thought he was trying to get me on a new vehicle and giving me the family hard sell. “Your Shaun Board, it’s here!”. Apparently, years prior, the real estate agents son had liberated the board from my shore place and had sold it to his friend who was in buying a board bag for a trip to Hawaii. Greg held the board, which I rushed to pick up. While a few unkept dings led to some discoloration, the board was still in good shape and hung for another six years in my home. I never pressed criminal charges as I was just happy to have it back.

Last Sunday night I could not help but bring the board with me to Shaun and Rabbits “Busting Down The Door” premier at the Paramount in Asbury Park. After all they would be there in person, and I wanted my son to meet a living legend and have him sign the board that he had given me 25 years earlier.

I felt like a grom again, with my ten year old son by my side, we were the first ones at the door. The memories filled my head, the smell of grape surf wax and the sound of a skateboard as my boy skated back and forth waiting for the doors to open. We sat in the first row with board in tow and Shaun’s book “The Surfers Code”, as well as a new digital camera, which I had no clue on how to use. The crowd started out light but as 7:30 neared, Jersey came out enforce to support the event. The place was packed.

Shaun and Rabbit took the stage for introductions, and Shaun spotted the board and gave my son and I a smile and a nod. I would try to approach him after the show during the questions and answer session following the movie.

“Busting Down The Door” was a great flick, a documentary filled with prime cuts from classics, like “Super Session”; “Free Ride” and “Tales from The Tube”, along with some classic tales of the events leading up to the pro surfing revolution.

After the show Shaun and Rabbit casually answered some questions about the movie and gave advice to the groms in the audience. An experience to cherish in and of itself. As they walked off stage, I approached Shaun who had this big smile and looking at the board “that is a classic. One of my favorite boards. Where did you get that”. I reminded Shaun he had sold it to me in 1982 for $100.00 on the North Shore. He was amazed that I held onto it, and instantly remembered me as “the kid from New Jersey”. “$100.00 I recently sold one of my old classics for $10,000.00” as we both laughed and briefly spoke about that winter and my son’s surfing. My boy was so stoked, sporting an ear to ear grin. I assured Shaun, as he signed the board along the stringer, that this board would hang in our home until someday my son can tell his son this story.

However the night was not about autographs or pictures, it was about passing on the stoke and the look on my son’s and the other groms faces as they had a chance to meet the fathers of modern day surfing Shaun Tomson and Wayne “Rabbit” Bartholomew.

“You used to surf?” I think to myself whenever I hear somebody say it. “You mean you stopped?”

See, I simply cannot fathom how anyone could start surfing, then stop. Short of being forced to move inland or becoming too old or injured, I could never understand someone just giving it up. It’s way too addicting, like heroin, only good for you. And I have always scratched my head at the idea of someone just stopping. For me, it always seemed simply impossible, beyond the realm of possiblity.

Until this summer, that is. I find myself, now, for the first time, wracked by a self surf doubt crisis of epic proportions. I am wondering if this life I have built, in a large part with surfing at its core, is sustainable.

It is brought on by a perfect storm of factors, from the economic, to the personal, to the meteorological. Among them:

1. The baby. I mentioned in my previous post, written a few days after my second daughter was born in May, how the second child was going to make it tougher to get in the water. Things haven’t changed. That wasn’t so bad during June’s weeks long flat spell, when I felt like I wasn’t missing much. But this week it got good for five straight days and I was still unable to get out. Painful. Brutally painful. In New Jersey, you simply cannot afford to miss swells. Especially in June. That kind of stuff will kill your soul.

2. The job: I have a new position at work and my boss wants me to start earlier. So far, I have resisted. It would mean the end of dawn patrol. And weekday dawn patrols are the bread and butter of my surf schedule.

3. The commute: I work in Newark. I live in Red Bank. It’s a fairly long commute. I have a tiny fuel sipping Hyundai, but gas prices of four bucks a gallon are starting to take a toll on the family budget, which has gone from two incomes/two people to one income/four people in just two years. Also, the 8-10 hours I spend driving to work each week is essentially another day at the office, another full day away from the family. The long hours behind the wheel are also causing lots of back pain. I live where I do largely so I can surf, although there are also a ton other reasons (including cheaper home prices and ties we’ve made to our community). But if I’m not surfing anyway, what the hell am I doing?

So the push to move North, to become a benny, is strong, and growing. It would mean, essentially the end of surfing for me. I would become one of those pale kooks you see blowing drops for rusty timing weekend mornings in the summer.

And that’s if I’m lucky.

I’m hoping all this is just a phase. That the family will settle into a routine, the baby will sleep, my new work schedule will allow me to hit it at dusk, if not dawn.

And I’m thinking that maybe, maybe all this doubt is fueled by the fact that I haven’t surfed in so long. (it’s my longest no surf stint for me since 1998, when I was landlocked in the Andes). I’m clinging to the faith that all this doubt will be cured by the next wave I ride, that when it comes and I catch it, it will wipe all this clean and restore my resolve to keep surfing, no matter what life, or work, or greedy oil speculators can throw at me. Because if I ever hear myself say those words, “I used to surf”, well, it must might be the saddest words to ever come out of my mouth.

ps

Has anyone else been through this kind of thing? I’d love to hear some comments. I could use em..

Peace, BD.