If asked, while standing on an outdoor stage set up on the broad upper ramparts of a 17th century castle overlooking the broad crescent of Praia do Matosinhos, in Porto, Portugal, I was completely prepared to give my presentation on what I believed to be the present state of surf culture to an expectant audience of primarily European surfing enthusiasts, all of whom had purchased tickets to hear myself and others speak. But I’d have to say no.
It wasn’t like I didn’t have the narrative of my TED-like presentation, titled “Surf Culture Today: A Radical Perspective,” pretty much committed to memory, being totally familiar with its content, having pontificated on its various elements many times to decidedly less-expectant, non-paying family, friends and associates; the role of provocateur, at least when when it comes to surfing and surf culture, fits me like a new wetsuit. It wasn’t that I was nervous speaking in front of a crowd, as so obviously were two of the speakers who proceeded me: Gibus de Soultrait, French surfing pioneer and current publisher of the European version of The Surfer’s Journal, who in halting English told of his amazing discovery of the fabulous surf on the island of Madeira in 1974, and Júlio Adler, veteran Brazilian surf journalist, who highlighted the rise of two Portuguese-speaking surf nations, often shifting unconsciously between his native language and English in the same sentence. And it wasn’t that I was overly intimidated by legendary surf media multi-hyphenate Nick Carroll’s authoritative examination of how the recent COVID-19 epidemic impacted both Australia’s and the global surf industry, complete with slickly-edited PowerPoint visuals.
No, it was that I was still affected by two of the talks I had personally attended the day previous, being introduced to two remarkable surfers whose whole-hearted commitment to surfing and surf culture made my own seem pedestrian by comparison; my presentation merely a vain academic exercise.
Better provide some context here. All of us had been invited to take part in the “Surf Talk” portion of the 2024 Norte Surf Fest, a three-day civic celebration of wave-riding culture sponsored by the Associação de Escolas de Surf de Portugal (Association of Portugal Surf School). Our contact was an earnest young surfer/executive named Afonso Teixeira, the association’s director, who neatly summed up the festival’s intention,
“Unlike the various competitive events held in Portugal,” he asserted in his invitation. “There was a lack of events like the Norte Surf Fest which focuses on the more recreational side of surfing as a lifestyle.”
No coincidence that the event was held at Praia do Matosinhos, historic Porto’s primary city beach, and perhaps European surfing’s recreational epicenter: 17 individual surf schools operate along its mile-long crescent of modest, beginner-friendly beach break. The Norte Surf Fest accommodated not only this captive demographic, but the many ancillary tourists and civic functionaries with attractions like an open-air exhibition of global and Portuguese surf history, a surf product marketplace, surf school team competition and a come-one-come-all collective attempt to surf a world-record party wave.
Then there were the Surf Talks. You had to purchase tickets to attend this series, held over two days at two spectacular venues: the aforementioned 17th century Castelo do Queijo, lording over the south end of Matosinho’s sand, contrasted by the ultra-modern Terminal de Cruzieros punctuating Porto’s vast harbor complex located at the beach’s northern border. It was here, on the top level of the distinctive edifice (whose architectural design approximates a huge, swirling school of sardines) that along with a refreshingly engaged public audience I sat through presentations from a pair of invited speakers that left me humbled.
Ed Atkins, left, and Nick Hounsfield, whose talks humbled the author.
The first was Dr. Ed Atkins, a multi-disciplinary academic, coastal scientist and co-director of eCoast, a progressive marine consulting and research operation in New Zealand. And that’s just part of his pedigree — just as importantly, he’s a hot goofy-foot who lives with his wife and three kids in Raglan, directly adjacent to that country’s fabulous left point break. But after years of pursuing the classic dirt-bag surf life, existing solely for the next surf travel adventure, Atkins’ life took an uncharacteristic turn.
With a growing awareness of the loss of prime surfing locations due to heedless coastal development, Atkins forsook the surf trail and re-applied himself to daunting academic career that resulted in a doctorate degree in environmental science. While he now spends much of his time consulting on commercial coastal development (meaning how he earns his paycheck) his passion is, as he put it, “The need for scientific investigation to underpin surf break protection and management efforts.” To this end he’s dedicated much time and effort, almost always on a voluntary basis, to doing just that.
You can read about some of these efforts in academic papers like the 2020 study he co-wrote, “Applicability of Management Guidelines for Surfing Resources in California,” but it’s much more compelling to listen to him describe advancements like, for example, the development of computer programming which automatically detects wave break-points and crest locations and tracks them in both space and time, measuring the “peel angle.” The peel angle of any particular break, he explains, is one of the most important surf science metrics for wave quality. Converted to real-world coordinates, this data tells us about the rate at which the wave is breaking and can be directly related to the level of skill required to surf a wave.
“With this data, we not only gain a better understanding of the precise characteristics of a particular surf spot and its value, in both financial and emotional terms” he says. “But we can then use this data to better balance coastal development that might otherwise negatively affect these waves.”
So here I was, sitting in the audience listening to a fully stoked, experienced world-traveled surfer who, rather than endeavoring to keep surf spots secret from other surfers, has instead devoted his life to protecting them for you, for me; for generations of surfers to come. How does your walk stack up?
Next up was a gentleman named Nick Hounsfield, from the city of Bristol, located almost dead-center in the middle of the United Kingdom. And it was here that this trained osteopath and surfer of some 40 years answered an inner calling to open that country’s first inland wave pool. Picture the movie Field of Dreams, but with a right and left peak instead of a baseball diamond. A member of the U.K. Sport International Leadership Program, Hounsfield, 51, was well-known for his work with adaptive and para-surfing participants. But it was his growing interest in the relatively new field of “blue health,” the study of how the mind responds to being in or near water, that galvanized his dream to design and build a wave pool in the English countryside. Meaning not to host sponsored “airshow” clip fests or professional competitive events, but primarily to provide those without easy access to the ocean what he considers to be surfing’s tangible wellness benefits, when enjoyed in a welcoming, inclusive social environment.
Something he can attest to personally. After a lengthy process of obtaining investment funds, followed by construction and opening of “The Wave” in 2019, the COVID pandemic reared up and threatened to wipe out Hounsfield’s dream. The tension built to such a degree that in 2020 he suffered a stroke that left him unable to speak. Hounsfield credits the rehabilitative effect of time spent in the waves with his eventual recovery — and his renewed efforts to promote those qualities at The Wave. This includes a surf therapy pilot program for children in the Bristol area suffering from poor mental health, and, of course, adaptive and para-surfing opportunities.
So, think about all those pro competitors and website commentors whining about wave pools, and then picture Nick Hounsfield, laying everything on the line for no other reason than to create a vibrant outdoor space where people of all ages, genders and physical capabilities can gather to experience surfing’s social and emotional benefits — the same that so many supposedly “hard core” surfers rarely consider. Again, in Hounsfield a surfer dedicated to giving, not taking; a genuine outlier.
Which is why, having just listened to their respective presentations, I was especially concerned about effectively making my point. Which is that today’s surf culture has in no way diminished, but, in fact, reflects so many elements of the sport’s origins — more specifically those in 18th and 19th century Hawaii. In support of this thesis, among other early European accounts of Hawaiian surfing, I referred to Reverend Nathan Emerson, who in 1892 wrote, “The sport of surf-riding possessed a grand fascination, and for a time it seemed as if it had the vitality of its own as a national pastime. There are those living…who remember the time when almost the entire population of a village would at certain hours resort to the seaside to indulge in, or to witness, this magnificent accomplishment.”
I thought this passage was especially pertinent to my presentation, especially as I looked out from the Castelo do Queijo’s battlements to Matosinhos’ beach below, the gentle waves literally bristling with soft-tops and with what looked like, “almost the entire population of a village” out having fun in the surf. That brought a smile, and when I eventually got through my talk, during the scheduled Q&A I was asked by a female member of the audience what I thought was good for surfing. I mused for just a moment, thinking about Ed and Nick, and the manner in which they had dedicated their lives to the sport. The answer came easy.
“You know what’s good for surfing?” I said. “Be good for surfing.”
