A few snap shots of the past five weeks on the North Shore of Oahu, amongst the surfing circus, but still plenty of solitude:
A few snap shots of the past five weeks on the North Shore of Oahu, amongst the surfing circus, but still plenty of solitude:
This was our distance for the day, over sea rather than land
We expected big weather–wind and rain —on day four. There was a front approaching from the north, bringing rare weather to Southern California for this time of year.
We had a quick surf after camping at the beautiful beachfront Emma Wood grounds. The sun emerged and the oily smooth surf started to show signs of wind arriving. Gentle peaks and chops moved in from the Santa Barbara Channel so we prepared the kayaks. In order to miss most of the oncoming storm front we needed to make perhaps the longest leg of the trip, at least 35 miles from Emma Wood to Leo Carillo, past the slightly sketchy Point Mugu military base.
The trip was beautiful and surprisingly warm. It was stunning to watch the colors and shades of the water change as blankety clouds unfurled and then dissipated, to watch turquoisy blues fade to emerald greens and then reemerge as an ineffable amalgamation of the two. Cruising about 7 miles offshore, we surfed along small swell lines with pods of common dolphins and a variety of sea birds.
At one point an unmarked helicopter strated circling around our five crafts. It kept going for 25, 35, 45 minutes. Then another helicopter came out, took the first helicopters position encircling us and the first helicopter flew away. It definitely felt like they were trying to communicate something. Dave switched his radio to another channel and finally made contact with them–The U.S. Navy, as it turned out. We saw a bright orange boat coming quickly from the shoreline straight toward us so we quickly put on our life jackets just to assure that we were as seemingly law abiding as possible. We weren’t sure if we had inadvertently broken some law, or if they were just harassing us. The orange boat stopped abruptly and insisted that we pull sail and wait exactly where we were—not to move any further. The captain informed us that the U.S. Navy was conducting live missile testing for the next 15 minutes and that we were required to wait until the testing had completed. So we waited, watching all around for explosions or signs of some militaristic destruction, but nothing we saw.
About 20 minutes later massive gray jets flew overhead, erupting in sounds that seemed to violently rip open the sky. It was a stark contrast to the gentle lapping ocean sounds and occasionally ruffling of my sail overhead. A sound uniquely human in scope, from sky to sea. I couldn’t help to wonder how the dolphins we had just had the pleasure of sailing with were affected. So sensitive to sound with their finely tuned echolocation capabilities, were these explosive sounds hurting their ears, too? What else does the military base here, so close to so many humans and countless marine species, do to this beautiful ocean? What else does it empty into these bountiful waters? Do we as taxpayers support our military conducting such experiments into delicate marine ecosystems– potentially threatening endangered and threatened species? I couldn’t help but wonder.
We sailed onward, making good time. The wind died down for awhile, so we peddled a bit and had a snack. We were starting to think that we wouldn’t make it to shore before dark. Just as the sun was beginning to set a steady wind hit our sails, a perfect homecoming wind, sending us easily onto the beach in time to watch the sun sink below the horizon with our ground crew. To see their smiling, welcoming faces on the beach after each long day of sailing ( today took about 7 hours) is really like being welcomed home in each destination.
It’s a beautiful feeling to celebrate each evening with friends at the edge of the sea.
Regarding wave pools, or surf parks, Drew Kampion, the associate editor of The Surfer’s Path, said:
Photo from a story by The Daily Mail http://www.dailymail.co.uk/
Everyone knows how wonderfully poetic surfing can be; we could fill volumes with references to surfing as artful, utopian, or solace-filled. Surfing can certainly be a beautiful act and can be a powerful source of stimulation and insight. Some of us engage in surfing because it is intensely competitive and edgy, but, I think that the majority of us are inspired by something else that we get from riding waves, something pure and meditative that rouses our senses and keeps us longing for more. Knowing this, as we do, it is also important not to let the romantic aspects of surfing cloud our vision or allow us to become overly selfish with our oceanic experiences. We must also take responsibility for the ways in which we are affecting other surfers, and the rest of the planet, as we engage in our pastime.
I’ve spent the past two years at university studying exactly the extent to which we, as a global culture of surfers, are (or are not) taking responsibility for our actions, in terms of how adamantly we are protecting (or thinking about protecting) the ocean, and the planet in general. Through interviews, surveys and e-mails, I conducted a critical examination of surf culture and the surfing industry, in terms of its environmental and social impacts. The findings were mixed, but what was consistent was the lack of a critical examination of surf culture itself and how we, as individuals, fit into that culture and how we are perpetuating environmental destruction through surf culture. That’s not to say that all of surf culture is destructive, just that we can do better with many of the decisions we make as consumers and as surfers (like the surfboards, clothes, wax, wetsuits and plane tickets we buy), which will lessen our collective environmental impact. This isn’t about calling yourself ‘environmentalist’ or necessarily abandoning your creature comforts, but it is about making more informed decisions for the sake of preserving things that we all love: surfing and the places and processes that make it possible. Sustaining our sport requires that we take a step back and cut a critical eye at the environmental and social implications of the global surf industry in order to improve it. But first, we should examine our own lives carefully to see in what ways we can advocate change for greater environmental sustainability in our own communities.
In the U.S. alone, almost two thirds of our coastal waters are degraded because of pollution. And that’s what we know about. Some oceanographers and marine scientists insist that we still know more about the moon than oceans on earth! Because we know so little, we can not be sure of the full extent of our impacts. The effects of the pollution that we do know about are far reaching: from human health risks to compromised food sources.
The beginnings of a significant environmental movement within our surfing cultures have been lingering for decades now, without really catching on as a mainstream movement, until recently. I think that, in being immersed in the ocean environment, we have the distinct opportunity to essentially voice concern and elucidate the changes that are rapidly affecting the coastal ocean. Surfing has given so much to me, has inspired such a deep love of the ocean and respect for the unique experiences to be had through it, that I feel personally responsible to preserve those things that make surfing so special— most important being the health and prosperity of the ocean. This isn’t about calling yourself ‘environmentalist’ or necessarily abandoning your creature comforts, but it is about making more informed decisions for the sake of preserving things that we all love: surfing and the places and processes that make it possible. Sustaining our sport requires that we take a step back and cut a critical eye at the environmental and social implications of the global surf industry in order to improve it. But first, we should examine our own lives carefully to see in what ways we can advocate change for greater environmental sustainability in our own communities. After all, the ocean, including the other planetary processes (the water cycle, wind currents and other weather patterns) that make surfing possible, are the most important components of our beloved pastime, and, in recognizing what powerfully crucial forces they are, I know that we can all agree that they are worth caring for and preserving.