In Jaimal Yogis’ new memoir, All Our Waves Are Water (just out this week) watching a local tube master at Puerto Escondido inspires a reflection on the meaning of it all.
Watching this man was like watching a hawk swoop for a gopher, a cheetah stalking prey, a corporate lobbyist working a political cocktail party. And it crystallized an idea that had been forming latently: tube riding was enlightenment. I mean, not literally. But the tube was the perfect metaphor.
Waves arise when air molecules, seeking pockets of low density, blow over water. Like goose bumps, wind forms ripples on the water’s skin, and those ripples act as sails, trapping more air. When wind sustains, that energy congeals into hefty mounds of water. Swell.