Right Coast Pride

Right Coast Pride

By Craig Portner

Excerpt by Sam George

I was just reading my August, ‘00 issue of Surfer mag and an article really struck me as something that most of us east coast surfers can relate to. It made me feel good about what we do and why we do it. I would like to let you all read it and tell me what you think. If you send me your thoughts, I’ll post them under the article on this page Rightcoaststoke@aol.com. This piece was taken from the Intro section and written by the editor Sam George.

The article starts off talking about a recent trip that George made to Jeffrey’s Bay (South Africa). George felt like a real adventurer, making the pilgrimage down to J Bay. Standing on the same sand as Mike Kuntz, Mark Heussenstamm, Mike Diffenderfer and Greg Weaver did in 1972. Then one day he met a 16 year old surfer at Supertubes. He quickly made friends with him. It turns out that this kid hitchhiked there from Capetown. It took him 3 days, and a couple of them he slept in the open. He could’ve taken the bus but he wanted to save money, which was understandable because he earned it poaching crayfish from a remote national park in the Cape of Good Hope. He dove at night to avoid authorities. The water there is frigid and shark infested. George invited the kid to stay in his rented condo and later drove him back to the Cape. This poor kid made George realize that maybe he wasn’t the swashbuckling adventurer that he thought he was.

“Yvon Chouinard- surfer, climber, mountaineer and one of the post-war era’s legendary adventurers- says that it’s not really an adventure until something fucks up. Consider, then, this month’s feature on a surf trip to the bottom of the world in search of unridden Antarctic tubes. Now, any number of “adventure travel” agencies routinely send tours full of rich senior citizens across Drake’s Passage and boat about Queen Maud’s Land to gape at seals, penguins and calving icebergs. But our guys were going surfing. So the fog, the evil winds, the frigid water, lack of swell, lack of spots- the seasickness, personality problems and boredom- took on a certain poignancy, a fucked up sort of quality that almost any surfer can relate to.”

“Because at the same time as these hardy voyagers were hurling over the side of their icebreaker, another equally rugged surfer in Beach Haven, NJ, was rolling around his laundry room, struggling into a five-mil, squeezing on gloves and hood and kicking into seven-mil boots. He was then Vaselining his face and stepping into the snow, loading his board into an ice-box car and driving down to Harvey Cedars, trying not to get Vaseline on the steering wheel or the rails of his board. The surf he found was small and choppy. Air: 34 degrees, water: 38. Nobody out. He surfed for 40 minutes- until he almost vomited after getting caught inside by a 3 foot set. Then he staggered back to his car on dead stumps, drove home with lobster claws, stumbled into the shower and stood there thawing out for half an hour. All for a few waves. Now that’s fucked up. That’s adventure.” (George)

I think we can all relate to the Jersey surfer. I'm sure most of us who surf 40 degree water has had a friend or relative tell us we're crazy for going out in this weather to scrap after some waist high surf. But we do it for the love of surfing. To get our "fix". We're not only surfers but also adventurers. Some of us may never see the inside of a J Bay green room but that's okay because we did what we love, surfing.

	Right Coast Pride By Craig Portner Excerpt by Sam George I was just reading my August, ‘00 issue of Surfer mag and an article really struck me as something that most of us east coast surfers can relate to. It made me feel good about what we do and why we do it. I would like to let you all read it and tell me what you think. If you send me your thoughts, I’ll post them under the article on this page Rightcoaststoke@aol.com. This piece was taken from the Intro section and written by the editor Sam George. The article starts off talking about a recent trip that George made to Jeffrey’s Bay (South Africa). George felt like a real adventurer, making the pilgrimage down to J Bay. Standing on the same sand as Mike Kuntz, Mark Heussenstamm, Mike Diffenderfer and Greg Weaver did in 1972. Then one day he met a 16 year old surfer at Supertubes. He quickly made friends with him. It turns out that this kid hitchhiked there from Capetown. It took him 3 days, and a couple of them he slept in the open. He could’ve taken the bus but he wanted to save money, which was understandable because he earned it poaching crayfish from a remote national park in the Cape of Good Hope. He dove at night to avoid authorities. The water there is frigid and shark infested. George invited the kid to stay in his rented condo and later drove him back to the Cape. This poor kid made George realize that maybe he wasn’t the swashbuckling adventurer that he thought he was. “Yvon Chouinard- surfer, climber, mountaineer and one of the post-war era’s legendary adventurers- says that it’s not really an adventure until something fucks up. Consider, then, this month’s feature on a surf trip to the bottom of the world in search of unridden Antarctic tubes. Now, any number of “adventure travel” agencies routinely send tours full of rich senior citizens across Drake’s Passage and boat about Queen Maud’s Land to gape at seals, penguins and calving icebergs. But our guys were going surfing. So the fog, the evil winds, the frigid water, lack of swell, lack of spots- the seasickness, personality problems and boredom- took on a certain poignancy, a fucked up sort of quality that almost any surfer can relate to.” “Because at the same time as these hardy voyagers were hurling over the side of their icebreaker, another equally rugged surfer in Beach Haven, NJ, was rolling around his laundry room, struggling into a five-mil, squeezing on gloves and hood and kicking into seven-mil boots. He was then Vaselining his face and stepping into the snow, loading his board into an ice-box car and driving down to Harvey Cedars, trying not to get Vaseline on the steering wheel or the rails of his board. The surf he found was small and choppy. Air: 34 degrees, water: 38. Nobody out. He surfed for 40 minutes- until he almost vomited after getting caught inside by a 3 foot set. Then he staggered back to his car on dead stumps, drove home with lobster claws, stumbled into the shower and stood there thawing out for half an hour. All for a few waves. Now that’s fucked up. That’s adventure.” (George) I think we can all relate to the Jersey surfer. I'm sure most of us who surf 40 degree water has had a friend or relative tell us we're crazy for going out in this weather to scrap after some waist high surf. But we do it for the love of surfing. To get our "fix". We're not only surfers but also adventurers. Some of us may never see the inside of a J Bay green room but that's okay because we did what we love, surfing.