Solo in New Jersey. Photo: Joanne O’Shaughnessy
Ever have a session that is straight out of your days as a grom? Today I had just such a session. This morning I awoke to a stomach high south swell, with offshore winds, a very low tide and no one out. Despite the freezing air temps and cold water I suited up, grabbed my longboard and headed out. Days like today were the exact conditions my best friend and I used to share. Fun, playful longboard waves, and no one but ourselves pressuring each other to ride every wave better than we rode the last.
I enjoyed plenty of little barrels and noserides while toying with the conditions. I was alone for hours before this old guy paddled out. I saw him catch a wave as I was paddling out and could tell he knew how to surf. I caught two more waves before he made it back out. We started talking. This was his first longboard since the 60’s. He grew up surfing the area and had surfed with my dad and his friends back in the 60’s. Another set rolled through; I took the first wave and he took the second. I paddled back out and caught two more while he sat on the inside.
“I’ve got this damn non-smokers’ emphysema,” he told me as I was passing him on the way back out. “I nearly black out after each ride. I gotta stop and get some oxygen before I can paddle.”
“I’ll keep an eye on you while I’m still out and make sure you don’t drown,” I said.
“Don’t,” he replied. “Today is a good day to die. I’m out here doing what I love. You’ll probably surf the rest of your life. I have. If I were to go out today, I’d be happy.”
We surfed for another forty-five minutes before my feet finally went numb and I called it a day. He stayed out by himself on a deserted, snowy, winter beach.
As I sit here before I depart for twenty-seven months in Africa, his words are ringing in my ear more than they should. I, like him, would rather spend my last waking minutes riding some waves rather than being surrounded by my family and friends dying in a hospital bed. I try to avoid letting surfing define me, yet surfing shapes my life. When I catch the fleeting euphoric moments when distant storms, the wind, and sand all align to deliver pure joy, I am truly happy. These moments are the ones that create the skeleton of my life. Everything else hangs on the frame. The great sessions I have had make all the sacrifices I made for surfing worthwhile, but will they always? Relationships, jobs, and college opportunities are all things I have passed on in order to surf as much as I can.
Will surfing always fulfill that need for me? Will having kids and growing old change how I think? Will I be like the old guy? Will surfing always be where I find the moments that make life worth living? I have watched friends grow older and drift from surfing. Girlfriends, college in the inland empire, giving up on winter surfing, all have caused them to miss surfing. I wonder who is the one missing out? Society at large would probably say I am losing out, but the surf world would say it is the people who turn their back on the ocean. Who is right? I know though, for me, as long as I keep riding waves I will have my peace and happiness.
