Surfing

By Justin Batoff

Surfing Is the only time were you are totally free, free from everyone and everything. It’s just you and the waves out there. To me, surfing has become almost religious, when I’m out there, sitting on my board, waiting for the next swell, I have a time to reflect not only on my surfing that day, but on life itself. When you feel the powerful surge of a swell under you, and feel it lift you up, you know that your not in control anymore, the wave is. You can do cutbacks, aerials, and you can carve, but there’s no way your going to stop that wave. Then you get the ultimate rush, and you feel like you are on top of the world. You feel as if you can touch the sky. There’s no better felling in the world. I came across this core truth during one of the many silken warm morning surfs I had this recent summer, I'd been up early trying to get my summer reading done, the sort of bureaucratic beat-you-down-and-shut-you-up crap that seems to accompany any summer surf trip. I could hear a couple of kids on summer vacation, in that lovely state of total freedom from responsibility, their voices raised in laughter as they went crazy on the neighbor's trampoline. Eventually, after several hours of boring reading, I took a nearly new board and went out to a high tide sandbar at my beach. I consciously made my self relax while walking down the sand; breathed deep at the edge of the sea. Jumped over a shore break and took four strokes, duck dived a wave, and felt the beautiful Pacific wash me clean, bubbles streaming past underwater and the reflection of my board shining back at me from the undersurface like some illusion of a blessing. Renewal! I wanted to cry; I nearly cried. But there was a wave rising in front of me, and with each graceful moment across its green face I felt something else coming forth, and when the wave was over I laughed instead, for a long, long time. This is what makes surfing so great. This is the common ground between us all. Because we've ALL HAD THAT FEELING. We've all paddled out and felt the ocean draw away all our fears and cares, and felt some primitive child spirit rise back to the surface of our beings, and then caught a wave and stood up and turned and slid across the face and felt reborn. So many people ask me “Why are you so obsessed with surfing, all you do is stand up on a piece of fiberglass.” But that’s not true, you cant appriciate this art until you have met the spiritual side of surfing. I found the real meaning of surfing this summer while I was at the Puerto Escondido. A huge set came rolling in. Each wave must have averaged 15+ feet. Then finally, a strong northwest wind picked up and there before stood a 20foot wall of aqua. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked up at this thing. I was so friggin scared that I almost pissed suit. The thing started jacking up and I started paddling my ass off, not knowing if this would be my last wave on this earth. The swell picked me up and I flew. When I say I flew, I mean I was ripping down the face of the wave. I was going down the line when I was pitted, and saw I was in pretty deep shit, so I did a bottom turn to try and recover into the barrel. I did and watched as the magical wave spilled over me, and flew safely out from under the tube. This was the ride of my life. Since then all I think about is the rush I got. All this stuff I said may sound pretty stupid to a lot of you punks, but if it happend to you, you’d take it very seriously. So that’s basically the reason why I love surfing, and more than that, the ocean. I love it not just for the rush, but for its magnificent splendor, and strength.

	Surfing By Justin Batoff Surfing Is the only time were you are totally free, free from everyone and everything. It’s just you and the waves out there. To me, surfing has become almost religious, when I’m out there, sitting on my board, waiting for the next swell, I have a time to reflect not only on my surfing that day, but on life itself. When you feel the powerful surge of a swell under you, and feel it lift you up, you know that your not in control anymore, the wave is. You can do cutbacks, aerials, and you can carve, but there’s no way your going to stop that wave. Then you get the ultimate rush, and you feel like you are on top of the world. You feel as if you can touch the sky. There’s no better felling in the world. I came across this core truth during one of the many silken warm morning surfs I had this recent summer, I'd been up early trying to get my summer reading done, the sort of bureaucratic beat-you-down-and-shut-you-up crap that seems to accompany any summer surf trip. I could hear a couple of kids on summer vacation, in that lovely state of total freedom from responsibility, their voices raised in laughter as they went crazy on the neighbor's trampoline. Eventually, after several hours of boring reading, I took a nearly new board and went out to a high tide sandbar at my beach. I consciously made my self relax while walking down the sand; breathed deep at the edge of the sea. Jumped over a shore break and took four strokes, duck dived a wave, and felt the beautiful Pacific wash me clean, bubbles streaming past underwater and the reflection of my board shining back at me from the undersurface like some illusion of a blessing. Renewal! I wanted to cry; I nearly cried. But there was a wave rising in front of me, and with each graceful moment across its green face I felt something else coming forth, and when the wave was over I laughed instead, for a long, long time. This is what makes surfing so great. This is the common ground between us all. Because we've ALL HAD THAT FEELING. We've all paddled out and felt the ocean draw away all our fears and cares, and felt some primitive child spirit rise back to the surface of our beings, and then caught a wave and stood up and turned and slid across the face and felt reborn. So many people ask me “Why are you so obsessed with surfing, all you do is stand up on a piece of fiberglass.” But that’s not true, you cant appriciate this art until you have met the spiritual side of surfing. I found the real meaning of surfing this summer while I was at the Puerto Escondido. A huge set came rolling in. Each wave must have averaged 15+ feet. Then finally, a strong northwest wind picked up and there before stood a 20foot wall of aqua. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked up at this thing. I was so friggin scared that I almost pissed suit. The thing started jacking up and I started paddling my ass off, not knowing if this would be my last wave on this earth. The swell picked me up and I flew. When I say I flew, I mean I was ripping down the face of the wave. I was going down the line when I was pitted, and saw I was in pretty deep shit, so I did a bottom turn to try and recover into the barrel. I did and watched as the magical wave spilled over me, and flew safely out from under the tube. This was the ride of my life. Since then all I think about is the rush I got. All this stuff I said may sound pretty stupid to a lot of you punks, but if it happend to you, you’d take it very seriously. So that’s basically the reason why I love surfing, and more than that, the ocean. I love it not just for the rush, but for its magnificent splendor, and strength.