Читать книгу Surfing Hawaii - Leonard Lueras - Страница 8
ОглавлениеOAHU
Introducing Oahu
Surfing's "Gathering Place"
The island of Oahu is known as "The Gathering Place" because of its longtime role as Hawaii's financial, social and political center. Its main port city and Hawaii's capital, Honolulu, the "Sheltered Haven," has always been of strategic importance both as a commercial and military destination because of the commodious size of its two beautiful harbors, Pearl Harbor and Honolulu Harbor.
Indeed, while Oahu is not the largest Hawaiian island, none of the Outer Islands is as developed as it is, and no other Hawaiian city approaches Honolulu in importance. This is probably why some 85 percent of Hawaii's population live on Oahu, and why most business and decision-making takes place in this so-called "Crossroads of The Pacific."
Not surprisingly, Oahu is equally important when it comes to surfing in Hawaii. While reasonably good surf can be found on all the Hawaiian islands, for some odd reason—perhaps as the result of a its special geological features—Oahu has also always been the prime gathering place for surfers in Hawaii.
The island of Oahu is without doubt the most surf-rich place in the Hawaiian chain (and perhaps in the world). It has the largest number and finest selection of summertime breaks in Hawaii (the Ala Moana Bowl and Number Threes are prime examples), and its North Shore beaches constitute what is arguably the finest single stretch of good surfing beaches in the world, with such spectacular surfing spots as Sunset Point, The Banzai Pipeline and Waimea Bay, to mention but a few.
And while Oahu is not a big island in terms of size, it is very Big Time when it comes to surf. It is the greatest surfing destination on the planet, whether you are a novice surfer or an accomplished waveriding veteran of North Shore winters past.
Oahu's "Town and Country" wave menu features the entire surfing enchilada—from smooth and shallow reef rollers that majestically fan into famous Waikiki Beach (perfect for beginners and experienced surfers) to pounding, body-whomping beach breaks (that fiercely snap, crackle and pop) to the most prestigious big-wave and tuberiding spots known to surfing man and woman.
Yes, it's all here, surf-sniffers, but for now—and for the sake of proper introductions—it is time for us to hele on (move forward) into the heart of this book, a magical mystery tour of Oahu that will attempt to familiarize you with the waves of the sleepy but roaring North Shore ("The Country"), the more urbane South Shore ("The Town"), the dry, wild and savage West Side (from Ewa to Makaha and on to Yokohama), and, finally, Oahu's verdant, windy and wet Windward Side. Aloha, brah! Time to move on, enjoy, and hopefully surf your butt off!
—Leonard and Lorca Lueras
Oahu is truly the gathering place, as you can see from this shot of a beachboy gathering in the heart of Waikiki. Photo: Brett Uprichard
A hilltop view of the Sunset Beach Arena on a good and not-too-crowded day. Photo: Art Brewer
Watch in awe as Ross Clark-Jones and Arnold Dowling take the plunge on a big Waimea beast. Photo: Jason Childs
Once you're in the Pipe, there's no turning back, even if it means annihilation. Chris Strother confronts a moment of truth. Photos: Jason Childs
OAHU
The North Shore
Surfing's Proving Grounds
Winter, between October and April
Easy, the main Kamehameha Highway runs parallel to most of the coastline
Mostly reef, but also some sand-bottomed breaks
Big-wave boards, a springsuit and a very serious go-for-it attitude
Crowds, locals, punishing surf and dangerous surf breaks
Drowning, kissing the reef and harsh poundings in the water
Pipeline, Sunset and Waimea; the surf experience
On Hawaii's North Shore, waves are not measured in terms of linear feet, but in increments of fear.
—A popular early '60s comment by a surf filmmaker
Surfers come to the North Shore scared. If you "no scared", it usually means you're not pushing your surfing anymore, at least not in large surf—and that's fine . . . If you are still charging, chances are that you came to Hawaii with some healthy fear, because you know you're going to be putting yourself into some challenging situations.
—Pete Johnson in Transworld Surf magazine, December 1999
Every now and then, we would hear reports through the grapevine of big-wave riders on the North Shore drowning, and for the first time I began to understand why so many of the great California surfers never gave the North Shore a try, or if they did, they came back home and never tried it again.
—Former California surfing champion and artist Mike Doyle in his memoir Morning Glass
Yes, a lot has been said about the North Shore, a stretch of coast often referred to as "the seven-mile miracle." Surf publications rave about this coastline rich in baby sand shells, and there isn't much that hasn't already been said or written about it. I mean, people even write long and effusive poems about the place.
Whatever its poetic or popular mystique, one thing is for certain: the North Shore of the Hawaiian island of Oahu is, without reservation, the most famous and revered place in the rarefied world of surfing. It is a Mecca to surfers worldwide. This has to do with the fact that the North Shore is home to some of the best, heaviest, most monstrous and challenging surf in the world, and also with the caliber of surfing exhibited there by both Hawaiian and visiting surfers. What these mad watermen do there is of a performance level rarely seen in other parts of the world. For all True Believers, no other place on Earth captures the essence of being a surfer as well as the North Shore. If there was ever a place that surfing is immediately identified with, then the North Shore of Oahu is truly it.
Between the winter months of October and April, Oahu's North Shore experiences an annual bombardment of waves and an invasion of pros, schmos, and bros all intent on tapping into prime North Shore surf. Many are there to simply savor the experience of watching a flawless 10- to 12-foot seething Pipeline being gutted by the world's best. Others watch in awe as towering walls of water at 20-feet plus smash into Waimea Bay.
While some people are content to just be spectators and to study the small-wave maestros offering sneak previews of the next era of performance surfing, others are not. Out in the water are packs of seemingly deranged nutcases rushing the waves with reckless abandon. For those surfers who are being paid big bucks to give their sponsors as much name and logo-sticker exposure as possible, surfing on the North Shore also means big business. They perform for the cameras, go for the gold in contests, and try to etch their name into the annals of North Shore surfing. Then there are the local boys, a homegrown contingent of waveriders who have seen surfing fads come and go like the crowds that congest their surf spots every year. They reluctantly put up with this visiting circus, perhaps because they simply love state-of-the-art waveriding.
Signs like this on the North Shore are to be taken seriously once winter swells begin their annual migration to these mid-Pacific beaches. Photo: Brett Uprichard
One thing you'll definitely notice on the North Shore, particularly at the prime surf spots, is that anyone picking up set waves is usually surfing way above your average Joe. Imagine yourself on the beach at Ehukai on a sunny surf day, say around early December. The lineup immediately in front of you will probably be chock-full of all your heroes trying to outdo each other on every breaking wave and be the man. Think Tom Curren, Johnny Boy, the Irons brothers, Tommy Carroll, the Beschen brothers, and, if your timing is right, even Mr. Kelly Slater himself—live, in technicolor, and redefining what ripping is all about. Yes, they will all be here, along with droves of under-grounders, low profilers, upcoming amateurs, hotshot unknowns, visiting movie stars and even your common everyday surfer.
Contest time can be especially thrilling, as Hawaii is the last stop on the Association of Surfing Professionals (ASP) pro tour, and the final shot at world-ranking for world-title contenders. Hawaii is also an important "last chance" competition venue for surfers trying to qualify for the upcoming world tour. Performance levels are balls out because everyone is trying to get as mental and upside-down as possible to prove that they've got what it takes to rip the North Shore. Not to mention the pack of photogs, media hounds and videographers on the beach, all trying to get "the shot" as well as footage of today's, yesterday's and tomorrow's surfing stars. Contest time is often likened to an aquatic circus, given the documentarians, groupies, personalities and assorted freaks of the surfing world who descend upon on this small stretch of coast just between Kahuku and Kaena.
". . . and whatever you do, don't blow it in front of the photog (or photogs)!" Nobody misses a trick when every move is being watched by a beach-side photo-studio crew such as this one. Photo: Erik Aeder
Without a doubt, not only is Oahu's North Shore the Circus Maximus of surfing, it is also the raw essence of the surfing experience. The surfers, the surf and the vibes here are unique, unlike those anywhere else in the world. Just being at the North Shore and taking part in the scene instills in one a sense of belonging to a special tribe of people.
It's hard to describe the feeling of anticipation you're filled with as you're driving out of town on Oahu's H-2 Freeway for the very first time and heading towards the North Shore. Excitement builds with each passing road sign, along with your thoughts and expectations about the pounding surf that's just ahead.
A Place Called "Country"
The further north you drive, the more you'll notice that you're moving into "Country" domain. The highrise buildings gradually recede as you go past the Aloha Stadium and up through Mililani Town, Wahiawa and the olive drab military boys at Schofield Barracks. Eventually, near Leilehua, you will reach the blood-red dust of a Dole pineapple plantation that frames both sides of the Kamehameha Highway.
As you proceed along this razor-edged roadway, you eventually come to a hill with a wide-angle overview of the North Shore. This particular panorama has been ogled by visiting surfers for many decades, and on a day blessed with waves, you can see rolling lines of whitewater pushing over outside reefs, painting a picturesque surfer dream scene. One's heart beats against this vast open ocean backdrop set in front of lush green hills and great blue skies. This is your initial aloha to a part of Oahu known as the North Shore, or, more simply, The Country.
For logical and geographic reasons, our run through the key Country surf spots will commence at the extreme Windward side of Oahu's northern surfing grounds (in the Turtle Bay area) and then continue on downwards through the heart of the famed North Shore. Because of the reef configurations here, many proper surfing breaks on the coast often appear side by side, so identifying them can sometimes be frustrating. But with a bit of guidance, your disorientation will be easily resolved.
Dale Velzyland
The surf spot furthest north worthy of mention is a break fronting the Turtle Bay Hilton, which features a sometimes fun right-hander in the bay when winds are light or from the south.
As you hit the border of the surf-central town of Sunset Beach, you will notice a slew of identical brown townhouses lined up just off the makai (or ocean) side of the highway. This area is known as Velzyland, named after the eminent surfboard shaper Dale Velzy. The surf break Velzyland is found just in front of these unsightly cave-like dwellings. The buildings offer no indication as to what can be found in the water, though, because Velzyland, or V-land as it's commonly called, just happens to be one of the most unreal small-wave rights in the world. Waves here are generally smaller in ratio compared to the rest of the North Shore, but V-land's shallow finger of reef makes sure that anything that rolls over it is guaranteed to pack a punch. What you'll find here is a twisting right-hander that bowls over a weird reef, creating funky double-ups and reform sections that can throw grinding barrels. Rippable cutback sections are also on the menu, and these features all work together to make Velzyland the high-performance wave that it is.
Crowds are an endemic problem here, and can lead to much frustration. You can remedy this by jumping on the sectiony lefts which peel off the main peak. They are definitely worth the ride, and can even barrel like the right just opposite, but the reef is not as well-shaped, and waves tend to close out. Paddling back out can be tricky, and you may find yourself ducking whitewater for what seems like an eternity. You can also sit on the inside of the right, in the hope that more aggressive surfers snatching waves up on the outside will blow their ride, leaving the remainder for the droves to pounce on. The inside, though short, can still produce gaping barrels before going into the channel.
An awkward phenomenon at V-land is that no matter how big the surrounding swell may be, the waves breaking will be no bigger than 6 feet. This is due in part to an outer reef that breaks the swell down outside of the takeoff spot, redefining it into an intense double-up over the aforementioned dangerously shallow inside reef. When it starts to get really big, Velzyland becomes washed out and unrecognizable under surges of whitewater.
Local boy Nainoa Surratt looking for a sweet wave setup on a Velzyland vector. Photo: Bernie Baker
Todd Holland going for a long hard North Shore drive. Photo: Jeff Divine
Camera shy? "Not," says Sunny Garcia. Except for the odd stickers, Sunny's approach is still quite the same these days. Blow-up on the North Shore. Photo: Art Brewer
Phantoms may sound like a spooky name for a surf spot, but according to the nutcases who are stoked to be surfing there, it lives up to its name. Located directly outside of Velzyland, Phantoms doesn't start showing true form until waves start cranking around the 15-foot and up range. What you'll find here is a short right peak with a left that can form lengthy rides. Phantoms is not as regularly surfed as other big-wave breaks, but can still reach unreal proportions. Tow-ins are conducted as well. A surfer named Jim Broach died while surfing out here on a big day in the early 1990s. Apparently, a rogue 25-foot set caught him and his fellow surfers inside and absolutely pounded them. When the sea had calmed after the set, all that was found of Broach was his surfboard. Searches were conducted in vain, and he became one of the rare casualties of big-wave surfing.
On a less threatening note, there are waves in the immediate vicinity for those unwilling to take on lunging 20-foot walls of water. Those not amped on the big stuff can seek refuge at Freddyland, just across the channel from Velzyland. On bigger and smaller days, Freddy's will usually still have a manageable wave peeling off that is perfectly suited for beginners and those shy of big waves. The wave here is a rolling peak breaking over reef, with lefts going longer than the rights.
Backyards & Boneyeards
The little headland between Sunset Beach and V-land is a quiet little neighborhood of houses lining backroads with children playing in the street. The backyards of some of these beachfront homes occasionally feature really good waves breaking off the fronting reef. And what better name for a backyard surf spot than, yes, Backyards. Surfed at times as a place of refuge from the mindboggling "Country" crowds, Backyards on its day can pump. You can choose between the rights breaking toward Sunset, or the lefts looping toward Velzyland. Either can produce long roping rides, or even barrels, that can hold quite some size (up to 15-feet plus). Waves tend to be sectiony, and it's never fun when a 10-foot wave you've struggled into closes out in your face. But on good days, you'll see less of these and more makeable rides.
Beware of the shallow inside section of the right, aptly named Boneyards. When the surf is overwhelmingly crowded at Sunset, the waves coming in on the reef here may just entice you to make the paddle over. Backyards is also a favorite haunt for windsurfers who attack the waves on the windiest of days. It's quite awe-inspiring watching them go when the swell hits solid size.
The real name of this stretch of beach, better known to the world as Sunset, is Paumalu, a Hawaiian name that means "taken secretly" and honors the memory of an unfortunate Hawaiian woman whose legs were bitten off by a shark along here. Sunset Beach, originally known as the Sunset Tract (and before that as the Pupukea-Paumalu Beach Tract), is a romantic name given to the area during the 1920s by a real estate developer who had noticed that it was one of the nicest places on Oahu to watch the sun's final rays slowly leave the sky.
Eating it sucks, but, well, nobody's perfect. Bruce Irons (Top) and Mark Healy (Bottom) show you what happens when you swallow without chewing. Photos: Jason Childs
Each year, the North Shore deals out the slaps. Injuries and even fatalities can occur, regardless of one's ability in the water. Always check with the lifeguards if you are ever in doubt, and even if you aren't. Photo: Jason Childs
Whatever the name's origin, Sunset is one of the most challenging surfing venues in the world. Under 6 feet, the waves here break over an inside reef close to its palm tree-dotted point and form an enjoyable performance right called Sunset Point. At this playful size, you'll find all sorts of people having fun: longboarders, boogeyboarders, keikis (children), etc.
But as the swell here rises, the action shifts dramatically to a deep-water outside reef where ocean swells channel into thick, ever-shifting and fast-moving surges of water that force their way towards shore with waterfall-like lips. Add the prospect of 15- to 25-knot trade winds that blow huge plumes of salt spray high above the face of these monstrosities (holding you up in vertical drop mode and blinding your eyes until the very last second) and what you have here, would-be surfer, is one of the great surf spots in the world. If you want to be shit-scared by Nature in all her primeval glory, this is a great first-time-in-big-waves testing and prove-yourself ground.
Technically, there are two main peaks that are surfed at Sunset on a good day, both partial to swell direction. On west swells, a fast mountainlike peak rises towards the channel and peels off menacingly, crushing anything that's caught in its path. Sometimes, a left will shoulder off from the peak, and though you can ride it, you can also end up in a very bad spot over the reef and be imminently prone to getting caught inside and being brutally spanked by a very sneaky clean-up set.
A "Surfer's Crossing" indeed! Photo: Joe Carini
Up the reef, however, is Sunset's classic north peak, a sea mount fueled by good north swells which break way outside, and which can present the most diffident of waverunners with a big and contentious wall that can run on through to the inside. This inside section is yet another story because this realm of the reef can push waves into some of the most intense and fat barrels around. Making it through one of these mothers is yet another crapshoot, usually rated at about a 50/50 chance of survival. Woe to those who find themselves inside a thick barrel that claps shut on their head and pile-drives them into the shallow reef below. Those who emerge from such a sick insider are deemed legends, and will surely be buzzing from the resultant euphoria and adrenaline rush for the rest of the day.
Northwest swells do this place the most justice, and anything from 6 to 15 feet is fair game. It's always bigger out there than it looks from the beach, so you may want to consult the lifeguards before paddling into something way over your head. Or you may want to stick to Val's Reef over the inside with the local groms before heading out into the open sea.
Crowds are an everpresent dilemma at Sunset, and on some days, you will see more than a hundred tiny heads bobbing in the water. Whatever your intentions, Sunset requires top physical conditioning, a primo set of lungs, a big board and even bigger balls. Getting caught inside and pounded is a fact of life when surfing here, as are broken boards. To actually wire Sunset's shifty peaks takes years of dedication.
Paddle straight out from the beach, but time your entries and exits carefully so as to not make a fool of yourself in the heavy inside shorebreak.
More Than Just A Market
Back on shore, let's repair to Kammies Market, a local foodery that has become a bit of an institution in the Sunset Beach area (and which caters to all a surfer might need). Kammies even serves up waves. Well, not exactly, but the fun left/right peak parallel to the store is called Kammies and can fulfill your desire for waves on smaller North Shore days. The waves out here can be bowly and fun, so just check it out from the beach, brah. Usually not too crowded either.
The next two spots going towards Haleiwa from Kammies are Stone Zone and Monster Mush. Both are better on small swell days when almost every other spot on the North Shore is manageable. They can also sometimes be a great escape from the madding crowds. Stone Zone can have juicy fun peaks and Monster Mush features a usually mushy right-hander and left. The Mush is right across from Rocky Point, which we will discuss next. Again, think small.
And on a mild day at Waimea Bay, it's crosstown traffic, or perhaps— "Ho! Hey! Going! Got it!"—more like a misplaced Malibu on Oahu's constantly busy North Shore. Photo: Jeff Divine
If there was ever a spot made for shooting pictures and for catering to the needs of a photo slut, it would have to be Rocky Point. That's not to say that the waves at Rocky's suck; it's just that they get really, really, REALLY crowded. On any given sunny day with decent waves, you're sure to find enough cameramen on the beach to convince the clueless that a major motion picture about surfing was being shot. Rocky's features an unreal left that is super shredable, uniformly hollow, and which can link up and peel a fair way on down the beach. A short right completes this peak, but if you're looking for rights, paddle a tad on down to Rocky Rights, where dreamy rights peel off like something out of the World's Most Rippable Waves textbook. Beware of the rocky beach and inside waters when floating closeout end sections, or when paddling in or walking out. Inside of the rights is a big rock sticking prominently out of the water which you should avoid at all costs. The most auspicious and safest paddle out to Rocky's is from the little sand beach just north of Rocky Lefts. When big winter swells bomb this coast, all the sand that settled here during the summer gets washed away (thus revealing the rockiness). Best ridden at under 8 feet.
Those looking for cheap thrills in life should head just across the way from Rocky Rights to the peak at Gas Chambers. Fast-breaking lefts and rights are the go, and roomy barrels can be snagged if you're patient. Making it out of them is hard, and trying not to hit the reef when eating it on the inside is just as difficult. Chambers is one of those places where wearing a condom-like helmet isn't such a bad idea. The lefts sometimes close out with Rocky Rights, so choose your waves wisely—you may just score a spitting dream.
Pupukea is another one of those rock bottom spots that fills in with shifting sand from summer. Whether it's sand or rock that you're surfing over, Pupe's still comes up with the goods, delivering thick rights and lefts that spiral up and down the beach. As perfect for high-performance waveriding as any other spot. Pupukea handles up to about 8 feet solid, and even at that size will still be manageable, though quite heavy. The beach is also a favorite place to sift and burrow for cute little puka shells, or to just hang out and get a tan. Pupukea is situated just to the right (towards Sunset) from Ehukai Beach Park.
The breaks fronting Ehukai Beach Park usually materialize over a sand bottom until a proper monster swell buffs the bottom clean and leaves only a bare butt reef below. Smaller days yield fun peaks up and down the beach at Ehukai (in front of the beach park) and at Gums (aspot just before Pipeline). The grand Pipeline itself is in full view and just to the left of this little beach park.
Pipelines
The Banzai Pipeline is without a doubt the most famous wave in the world, and it conveniently does its extraordinary thing just to the left side of Oahu's Ehukai Beach Park. You'll know it when you see it: super thick, swift-moving mountains of water that unload their strength with pounding vigor over an obscenely shallow lava reef below. All the rumors, stories, video clips and photos that you've ever seen of the place will come into focus before your eyes on any day that da pipe is in action. Some of the most colossal, fear-inducing, liquid-tripping, awe-inspiring, simply straight-up insane left-hand tubes on earth—ones that can make you poop your pants in a heartbeat—spin through this place with great regularity. (Whew, that was a mouthful). Eh, but how you figgah, brah: no other wave in the world has been as ardently documented as this one, and we ask you to watch and you will very soon learn why. This place f*#king smokes, brah!
Big Isle slasher Shane Dorian may be one of the most famous and highly-paid surfers in the world, but he didn't get there by sitting on his couch. Yes, presenting Shane, moving fast on the North Shore. Photo: Art Brewer
As the wave action rises here, you surf over different parts of the volcanic reef. Under, say, 8 feet, most of the surfing is done on the inside reef. As the swell rises, Second Reef Pipe awakens, presenting big rolling faces that lead to mental double-ups over the inside. Waves that cap over the second reef but don't quite break unload straight over the inside with an extra force that seems to have come from the depths of a watery hell. When Second Reef Pipe is happening and online, just the sight of it causes mouths to drop and remain wondrously agape. When the action gets serious, Third Reef Pipe comes into "play," peaking way outside and steamrolling in down the line. Heavy stuff.
To actually surf Pipe, you've got to have a considerable number of years of surfing heavy waves under your belt, along with an advanced level of tuberiding skills and a gung-ho, go-for-broke attitude. You also need boards that can negotiate the supersteep and sucking drop, and also be able to explore the immense magnitude of a Pipe-bomb cave. Above all, you have to really want one of these beasts. There are basically two groups of people out on the Pipe. The first group are those who are addicted to and desire Pipe-drainers like junkies looking for a fix. The others are just, well, out there, but not quite sure if they've made the right choice by stroking out to the lineup, or if they actually do want to confront these demonic waves. You can almost see it in their eyes as they paddle out—whether they've got the fire or not.
Backdoor Pipeline (or Backdoor) is a consequential right that reels off the peak, and it is just as intense, if not more intense, than the celebrated lefts. The reef is even shallower here, sometimes drying out at the end of some rides. Some say the drop is even more nuts than the Pipe proper. Gaping right-hand barrels that lunge right off the drop call for little more than a straight drop into the mouth of the beast, and then a fast drive for the exit as you pray hard for the door to stay open. Successfully making your wave frontside is a true accomplishment, while managing to emerge unscathed backside is the stuff of legends. You should also keep in mind that what makes Pipe and Backdoor barrels throw the way they do is the hellishly shallow lava ledge that sits no more than 6 feet under the takeoff spot, even during those 10-foot plus dredgers. The bottom contour is actually quite flat in most places, with the exception of lava caves that have formed the basis of countless horror stories about surfers who were caught inside one after a particularly heavy wipeout. Try diving here on a flat day and see for yourself. In fact, the bottom is so obviously dangerous that Gerry Lopez, one of the greatest Pipeline riders in history, once said: "It's not a matter of whether you're going to get hurt surfing out there, but more a matter of when."
To Pipe or not to Pipe? Gerry Lopez and Howard Farrant contemplate one of the Pipeline's many moods. Photo: Dana Edmunds
State-of-the-art beach attire observed high above a serious North Shore surf contest venue. Photo: Brett Uprichard
Before attempting to take on the Pipeline, be honest with yourself about your abilities. Are you really ready for it, and are you willing to take on the consequences? Remember that the poor souls out there getting shacked out of their minds and blown into the channel by the fire hydrant-like spray are some of the most accomplished tuberiders in the world. Many are even well-paid to specifically surf Pipe/Backdoor, and it's their job—with skills in check—to make impossible, near-death situations look like a stroll through the park.
Crowds here may be among the worst in the world. Imagine sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Strider, Liam McNamara, Johnny-Boy, Mike Stewart, Braden Dias, Pancho, Derek and Mike Ho, and Shawn Briley, as well as an entanglement of other surfers, body-boarders and longboarders, some of whom are the best in the world. In a pack like this, the odds of snagging a decent wave fade fast. Scraps are what you'll normally end up with, but you never know. You may just catch for yourself one of those serendipitous moments when Mother Nature decides to cut you a break and flings a big green gem at you.
The paddle out is easy enough, but just be sure to time the sets (as in every surfing situation, but especially here) to make sure you don't get caught inside before scratching on out to the lineup. If you hit the water facing the break, the rip current will immediately sweep you towards the Pipeline channel. From that point onwards, it's all up to you.
The next spot over from Backdoor is one more high status venue in the world of surfing. Off The Wall is another of those places specializing in gutsy barrels. The main part of the wave is an accelerated right that bowls from takeoff to wave's end. Waves are super quick, and it takes years of adapting to figure out which ones to pick (kind of like mushrooms in a field). A right pick and you're flying through tunnel vision with an exit. But a wrong choice equals the above sans the exit. Beware of the shallow inside, and crowds that are always a nuisance. Lefts that drive toward Backdoor can be an option, but they tend to clamp shut over a shallow inside section. Getting caught inside here is also not in your best interest. Off The Wall (or OTW) got it's name from the concrete wall facing the break at the end of the public right-of-way going towards the beach. The steep drops characteristic of Off The Wall may also have contributed to its name.
Insanities is yet another properly-christened peak that looks straight into the right at OTW. Its waves can jack and sometimes get good, so keep an eye on it.
The left straight out from the outcrop of rocks on the beach (right by the lifeguard tower) squeezes out some serious juice. Rockpiles, as it's called, features a thick left that doubles-up and warps over a boil in the takeoff spot, and then rolls down the line. Big barrels are a possibility, but risky. Getting caught on the inside may push you over the rocks, so beware. From the beach, the size of the waves can be deceiving, and they are guaranteed to be bigger once you get out the back. Rock-piles handles some serious size, and usually has a minimal crowd of surfers. Totally in view from the coastal highway.
The right winding off of Rockpiles, Logcabins by name, is a thumping wave that can turn on in small to medium north swells. Shallow rock patches line the bottom here, so extreme caution should be exercised. When going off, Logs can be as intense and tubey as anywhere else on the North Shore. Logcabins may have been named (uh, duh?) after the log rental house on the beach facing this break.
When the Waimea river reaches its maximum capacity, the boys head down with their shovels and dig a stream to the ocean. As the flow strengthens, a stationary wave forms over the sand. Great filler-fun, but take heed of the less-than-sanitary water. Photo: Mana
Waimea Bay (say "wy-may-uh"). A sacred panorama in the world of surfing. Photo: Steve Wilkings
Rubber Duckies, once voted the "Stupidest Surf Spot on the North Shore" in a Surfer magazine survey, is nothing to get excited about. A sometimes mushburger right that is rarely ever good comes in on a reef at the beach called Three Tables. Possibly fun on a longboard, but you are probably better off just relaxing on the beach with your rubber ducky.
Winding up at Waimea
Waimea Bay is a beautiful crescent-shaped bay that on big swells holds what may be the premier big-wave right in the world. Under 15 feet, the wave here hugs the point and is known as Pinballs. When waves start hitting the 18-foot and up range, however, the activity shifts to the outside and true Waimea jumps into gear. The whole deal here is about making the drop and then escaping to the safety of the deep channel, a ploy that is way easier said than done. Waves hitting the outside boil can jack and lunge with great ferocity, creating a complex drop, one that can get even harder when it is being blasted by stiff trade winds. These mountainous entities have been known to form barrels big enough to drive a truck through. If all this wasn't enough, there is even a freak left that sometimes shoulders off the right (but which is not recommended), and which has so far only been attempted and made by two all-around wave maniacs, Shawn Briley and Marvin Foster. Waimea comfortably holds swells up to the 25-foot range and sometimes bigger. At this height, the Bay reaches its capacity and may start closing out. The crowds that clog the lineup definitely make surfing here even more dangerous than it should be, and, as some Waimea vets say, have killed the mythical magic of the place.
The inside and close to the beach Waimea shorebreak is world-famous for its necksnapping power. Surfers paddling in and out of the Bay have to deal with this phenomenon first, which can be rudely annoying because this fierce sandpounder reaches up to 15 feet on the face on seriously big days. Boogeyboarders and bodysurfers take much pride in riding these liquid time bombs, locking into enormous, frothing sand-dredging pits before they implode on the shoreline. Some stand-up surfers even take their chances here, usually on smaller days. Breaking your board and/or back may result from a session out here, so the buyer of such goods should beware. On days when the Bay shows its stuff, it seems as if the whole island stops to watch. Traffic along the Kamehameha Highway creeps slowly by the lookout cliff as drivers rubberneck and try to see the breaking waves, and parking spots around the cliff and beach park are snatched up as quickly as they become available.
Here, in the heart of the winter season, a prestigious invitational big-wave riding contest, "The Quiksilver in Memory of Eddie Aikau," goes into a wave-waiting period. Conditions have to be just right, meaning solid Waimea lines of 20-foot plus swell coming through with pleasant wind and weather patterns. If these contest requirements are met, then the Eddie goes ahead. If not, the whole show is put on hold until the next season. Competitors in the event are all fully-certified hellman/chargers, and they push the limits in this event for a first place check of fifty grand, one of the highest prize purses around. Eddie Aikau was a well-known Hawaiian waterman who took off fearlessly on some of the biggest waves at Waimea during his time. He was also a respected lifeguard on the North Shore, but was tragically lost at sea in 1978 while attempting to swim to shore for help while serving on the crew of an experimental ancient Hawaiian sailing canoe named the Hokulea. The Hokulea had been damaged and was threatening to go under in rough seas. Eddie's body was never recovered. When the waves are huge and local surfers are scared, they will often look at each other and say, hopefully, that if he were still here, well, "Eddie would go."
The surf coming in from Wai-mea Bay to Haleiwa is a considerable downshift from the heaving action around Sunset Beach. The waves are still excellent, however, and reek of 100 percent pure North Shore juice. For those looking for a fun and not-too-threatening peak to surf, Leftovers is a good option. The lefts coming in here are nice and wally, providing ample space to boogie on. The odd tube will make a guest appearance at times.
Rightovers are the rights that roll off just up from the lefts; they get fun and give you sufficient room to play. Take heed of the shallow inside that pops up on lower tides. It sounds good, but take into consideration that a boogeyboarder once disappeared from this lineup during an early session, and all that was recovered later was his sponge with a good-sized shark bite taken out of it. A much-visited memorial to him was put up next to the bushes near the checkout spot here.
Acrose the narrow channel from Leftovers lies Alligator Rock. Gator's is a sometimes happening right and short left that stands up and does its thing before going impotent in the channel. Easily checked from the beach, or from out at leftovers.
Before arriving at the wide-open view of Laniakea, you'll come to another open beach clearly visible from the road. There are two waves here—a left and a right— which break towards each other, and on small to medium size swell days, they can send any sane surfer mad in trying to decide which way to go. A channel in the center of the two separates the movement on both sides and provides a safe paddle-out spot. The rights are known to the world as Chun's Reef, and are some of the easiest and fun waves to ride. A myriad of peaks makes up Chun's, and they all turn off and on, depending on local swell, tide and surf-god conditions. The peak by the channel offers a short, fun ride before withering away into the deep water. The outside peak can be the best bet, with good rides pushing all the way through to the other side, baby. Chun's features a fine performance-tuned wall that is great for any maneuver you may have lingering in your mind. It all sounds good, except when you see the packed water crew that is sure to be there on any respectable day. The odd left is up for grabs, and it's a good way to sneak one away from the pack. A shower is strategically placed on the beach for those wishing to rid their body of saltwater essence. It is regularly put to use, in appreciation of its donor. Rick "Crazy Shirts" Ralston.
Looping lines at Lani's. It looks majestic, but now, if you could only snag one for yourself . . . Photo: Jeff Devine
The lefts on the opposite side are also great places to hunt for quality breakers. Jock Sutherland, one of the original surfers who defined hotdogging from the late '60s into the early '70s, was one of the first to put in time at this reef, which isn't much of a surprise given that he grew up in a house right on the beach. Along with Jeff Hakman and some of his other neighbors, Jock was a member of the Chun's Reef Surfing Society, an informal and little-known group of North Shore surfers who made up what was probably the NS's first surfing club. Unable to persuade his buddies to paddle out with him because they wussed-out at the thought of having to deal with the gnarly rocks protruding on the inside (remember those were preleggie days, mate), Jock would constantly solo it and reap all the spoils, That's the local tale behind the naming of Jocko's, which also goes by the name Jock's Reef.
The wave itself is a winding left that can churn out quite a mean barrel on its day Lipsmacking areas are abundant, and should be taken advantage of whenever possible. When good, Jocko's can be the ultimate and dreamy left. Be wary of the aforementioned rocks that line the inside. They have a weird habit of making themselves known when one is caught in their vicinity while ducking white water. Crowds are once again a pesky factor at this surf spot.
One of the more sought after rights in The Country is Laniakea. When on, Lani's exhibits a long and roping ride that can challenge the hardest of the hardcore. An inside bowl near the channel is a great place to hook into wedging wonders, while the outside peak can hand out long on-down-the-line speed tracks leading to the inside. Under 6 feet, Lani's remains playful and can be enjoyed by the majority of surfers on hand. The story changes when the sets start rumbling at 8 feet and up. Heavy lines of waves possess plenty of push-start and are best attempted by more advanced waveriders. Big barrels followed by a rushing wall of waves twist down a long right line, and on good swells from the north, these walls can thread their way all the way across the reef, causing jelly legs at the finish line.
Swells incoming from the west, meanwhile, make for fast-dumping sections and are best passed up for a different spot. Lefts occasionally roll off the outside peak, but hold out the threat of being caught inside. Getting snared by a freak set on a sizey day means taking serious poundings that may pose the specter of seeing yourself paddle all the way back out from the channel again. You can tell if the surf's happening without even looking at the water by applying the surfer's rule of counting the number of cars in the parking lot. If the lot is empty, it's a good sign that the surf probably stinks.
Is this view enticing enough to inspire the long paddle out? We think so. Welcome to a place called Avalanche. Photo: Mana
The peak between Laniakea and Jocko's, called Holton's, can dish up some tasty rights. Nice drops followed by a big wall are on the menu and can satisfy any surfer's appetite for adrenaline on bigger, holding days. It is easily checked from the Lani's carpark.
To the left of Lani's and about a mile out to sea is Himalayas, a mountainous peak that holds monster swells. Not a place for surfing alone, so if you feel like going for it, take at least one buddy (if not several) and a big board. Rarely surfed due to the beastly nature of the place. Towing-in is usually a better riding strategy.
When the buoys hit the 20 feet/20 second mark and most of the North Shore is macking and closing out, your list of rideable wave venues starts to really get limited. You could go for it at a maxing outside reef Pipeline or Sunset if they are holding up, or go for the guts and glory of Waimea. If the big stuff isn't on your agenda, then give Puaena Point a look-see. There are actually two spots to surf that show their stuff when the swell starts getting serious. The first place of refuge is the bowly peak at the edge of the channel that forms a fast-breaking right driving into the deep water. Wave sizes here are usually only a fraction of the surrounding swell. You can tell if it's going off or not by looking at it from the beach. If it looks good from land, it's probably better in the water.
For those looking for more of an adrenaline boost, the outside is the call. Thick long rights come in from way out the back, and if you should snag a good one, it will take you for a lengthy shoot to the inside. Beware of fast wide ones that will work you and leave you helpless to the brutality of the rest of the set. Some of the size of the swell is reserved for this outside break, and it can get big. Keep your eyes peeled for those notorious sneaker sets.
Haleiwa always looks way easier from the beach than it actually is. Add the racing rip currents, shifty peaks, clean-up sets and anxious locals and it very suddenly becomes much less alluring. Photo: Jeff Divine
Homely Haleiwa
Haleiwa could possiby be one of the trickiest waves to surf on the North Shore. From the beach, the nicely-shaped rights are deceptively inviting, but from the water it's a whole different story. A super-solid rip that could tire out a shark runs through the break, causing a constant paddling to keep up with it and to maintain your position. The waves themselves tend to section off, crushing those waveriders who have the tenacity to try their luck on them.
A deathly shallow end section called the Toilet Bowl borders the end of the right, and at times can suck straight out to near dry reef, as if someone had just flushed a bowlful. The local boys who call Haleiwa home are among the stingiest around when it comes to sharing waves, and they are out nearly every rideable day in an attempt to make sure that their wave quotas are met—and then some. Sneaker sets that send you propeller-arming for the horizon are more than common, particularly on solid days when getting spanked-drilled is an uncomfortable consequence. For those who "no can handle" and feel that they have to tap out, lifeguards are almost always on duty to make sure that things don't get out of hand. If you can deal with all of this, then you may just have a fun sesh out here. When on, Haleiwa can produce some of the top performance waves around. High-speed rights beg for a lipbash, and even the odd left that can be jumped on fills the reef. Indeed, on good mood days, everyone has fun.
On bigger and decidedly more intimidating days, beginners and minigroms can amuse themselves by frolicking on an inside reform section that rolls through before dissipating. And for those who don't surf, the beach park is definitely user-friendly and the perfect place to have a picnic, soak in the rays and observe the action at sea. At the surf center, if you're polite enough, Uncle Lee may even lend you the paddles and ball for da ping-pong table.
A straight-up schnapp by Australian Shane Wehner. Hey, it got our attention, didn't it?
The innovative Kalani Robb turning heads with some new-school surf trickery.
L.A. local Strider "Raspberry" Wasilewski makes like a bird and soars through the sky.
Photos: Jason Childs
When a wave has an intimidating name such as Avalanche, you sort of lose interest in doing anything other than observing. And that's exactly what 99 percent of the people checking out the waves at Haleiwa do. For the 1 percent who choose to make the long paddle out to this lonesome peak, we say, "have a grand time," as there won't be many others in hot pursuit of this particular bombie-curl.
What you'll find upon arrival is a deepwater peak that tends to shift around a bit. The lefts lead to a mean inside bowl section that will either give you the barrel—or the beating—of your life. More often than not, you'll get the latter.
This sounds, of course, like about a hundred other waves at Oahu, but the one thing that separates Avalanche from the rest of the wave pack is that it handles the big stuff with ease. By big we're not talking just a solid 10 to 15 "Hawaiian feet," but more like 15 to 20 feet (meaning perhaps 50 feet anywhere else in the world). Smaller, and perhaps non-life-threatening days can be enjoyed here, but again, think before you buy. Just try not to bust your board or leash, as it is a very lengthy swim back to shore.
Moseying around Mokes
The Mokuleia stretch of coastline can be described as a part-time playfield. That's because the angle of the beach causes the blasting northeasterly trade winds to blow in a displeasing side/onshore flow. For those intent on surfing these parts, what this means is that you have to wait for the weather forecasts to read kona or variable winds. This produces quality surfing conditions between the stretches of ravaging onshore chop. Note: There's more out here than meets the eye, but our lips will remain sealed out of respect for the locals who were willing to share a lot of surfy aloha with us.
Just in front of Mokuleia Beach Park at the east side of Dillingham Airfield, a condition-pending right can be found. This wave isn't always good as it only accepts certain small swells from an appropriate angle (and preferably on a higher tide), but if these factors happen to align as the planets rarely do (what's that happening called?), then you may luck into some shreddable right-hand action. Winds need to be dead for this spot to come alive.
At the west end of the Dillingham Airfield strip is a pleasurable left and right peak affectionately known as Army Beach, probably after the military types who were once found on this beach. The left is the best bet, and you can pull into some clean, green rooms when it's good. Army Beach is normally blown to bits by the prevailing trade winds (as is the rest of the Mokuleia coastline), and it needs a kona or dead wind day to even be remotely considered worth surfing.
If you've only encountered bad surf luck along the Farrington Highway part of Oahu's North Shore, we suggest you cross over to the mauka side of the highway and take up the other big sport practiced out here. We're talking about polo, the so-called "Sport of Kings," which has been played for years at the old Mokuleia Polo Field. Along with Pipeline Beach back up the coast, these two places are probably Hawaii's most exclusive athletic arenas.
And if, by days end, you've only caught no-surf luck and found no waves whatsoever, the sunset show going down Kaena Point is always a great way to end your day and to soothe the soul. Just pray for clear skies.
—Lorca Lueras
The North Shore has always been the proving ground for cutting-edge performance surfing. Christian Fletcher, one of surfing's early aerial pioneers, rises to well above the roar. Photo: Jason Childs
On the waves, women are stepping it up as always. Megan Abubo exhibits hot form. Photo: Jason Childs
On any given sunny day, you can be sure that there will be uh, cuties on the beach. Photos. Jason Childs; except for bottom right by Jeff-Divine
Whenever you're out surfing and there are cute girls on the beach, it always inspires you want to push the pedal to the metal. Photo: Jason Childs
Of course, when you just can't seem to get that rhythm going, it makes you wish you'd never gotten out of bed. that morning. Photo: Joe Carini
Every surfing country has its social epicenter. For California it's got to be Huntington Beach. In France it would probably be Biarritz or Hossegor. In exotic Japan, they bow to the honorable Shonan. In Hawaii, though, it is the little sugarcane town known as Haleiwa.
Haleiwa has always been a crossroads kind of country village. It was originally created by Hawaii's sugarcane and pineapple industries at the base of Oahu's central agricultural plain. In later years, Haleiwa became better known as the gateway to what would one day be called Oahu's North Shore.
For many years, the town of Haleiwa endured little change, but this ended in the late 1950s, when a new breed of tourists began spending their money here and staying in small homes that could be rented for the entire winter surfing season. These first arrivals were big-wave riders, and most of them came from the mainland US and Australia.
Initially, these surfers were a new and curious sight for local farmers and store owners to behold, but soon enough they had become part of an annual migration of surfers who would drive out from Town to Country to ride the reefs around Haleiwa. A few would even head on up to Sunset Beach, especially if the surf there was big. It was thrilling enough then just to watch Sunset and Waimea break.
For probably the next 10 years or so, little changed in Haleiwa, except perhaps for the addition of a new diner, gas station or maybe a tourist shop that catered to the people who drove through on their way to the North Shore's sandy and isolated beaches. At that time, Haleiwa was gateway to the vacation homes that people from Honolulu stayed in on weekends and holiday breaks. Then, as the mystique surrounding the area's surf spots began to grow, and as the sport of surfing became more popular, larger groups of local and international surfers began living in some of these old homes and cabins on Oahu's North Shore. Many of them stayed for the entire winter surfing season, and as a result of their presence, a new lifestyle evolved in and about Haleiwa town.
While Haleiwa is only an hour away from Waikiki's famous and crowded beaches, physically and psychologically, it exists in an unrushed and sleepy world of its own. To observe a bit of how Haleiwa has evolved over the years, let's take a drive through Haleiwa town—then and now.
If you were a surfer visiting the North Shore in the 70s, you would probably have eaten breakfast at a small diner known as Yama's. Years later, Yama's became Shima's, which was sold and is now gone forever. In the early '80s, the most popular breakfast place was the Wizard of Eggs, a very modern cafe with big plates of rice and eggs and American-style pancakes.
For lunch, you would have bought hamburgers or saimin noodles in a cafe near Haleiwa Beach Park known to all as Jerry's. That shop is also no longer there, but local surfers remember stopping in at Jerry's to order lunch and then taking it with them to the beach. For dinner, you would have gone to where all the surfers went: the old Seaview Inn, which later became the trendy Chart House restaurant, and which just recently became reincarnated again as a new hangout called Aloha Joe's.
The old and popular Seaview Inn had it all: cheap meals, cold beer, delicious fresh fish caught by local fishing boats, plus a clientele that consisted of surfers from around the world. For many years it was far and away the most popular restaurant for surfers in Hawaii. For Triple Crown surfers who didn't start frequenting Hawaii until the early '80s, places like the Seaview Inn were on their last legs.
After the devastation wrought on the North Shore by Hurricane Iwa in 1982, life in Haleiwa went through some dramatic changes. For one thing, business slowed down considerably due to the emergency repairs that had to be made to buildings and general town infrastructure. This in turn forced the local economy to shift away from recreation and an easy-going lifestyle and, well, "get serious." People found that they had less $ to spend on the fun things in life, and even in sleepy Haleiwa by the sea, where a charming little-town lifestyle had prevailed for many years, people were forced to change their habits.
As a result, much commercialization of Haleiwa and its environs has taken place, even in surfing. For example, in the mid-'70s, there were only two or three surf shops in and about Haleiwa Town. In those days. North Shore surfers didn't need many more shops than that. A small shop up at Sunset Beach took care of most of what people needed, and for more than that, well, people usually just drove to Honolulu.
Within 10 years, the number of surf shops in Haleiwa had tripled. Today, there are at least 15 shops in town selling surfing-related products. Given the ever-increasing number of tourists from around the world who come here and want to return home with a piece of our lifestyle, all of these shops somehow manage to survive, even during the off-season and long after Hawaii's big winter waves have left the North Shore.
A Haleiwa sign of sometimes difficult surfing times. Photo: Brett Uprichard
Despite these changes, Haleiwa has managed to retain an old Hawaii allure reminiscent of years past. For the most part, Haleiwa's charming old buildings have been repaired and repainted, and like faithful sentinels they survive and stand strong against the trade winds and the North Shore's fickle weather and surf spray. Even a new highway that bypasses the town and gets you to the surf quicker really hasn't diminished the old magic of the place. Here, in what is arguably the only true "Surf City" in Hawaii, you can still find bits of what you might call Old Polynesia-style. Wander through Haleiwa's old shops and you'll be treated with the rare opportunity to share in the best of the past and the brightest of the present.
Come, hele on (move along) and join me as I take a bicycle ride through an old north Oahu cane town that the surfing world rediscovered and brought back to life more than 40 years ago. Get a sense of both the Hawaii of yesteryear and the foreseeable and trendy future.
Any male surfer worth his ding-repair kit would love to have a, uh, woodie, especially when he is about to get married. This classic woodie wagon is decked out in style and about to take the plunge. Photo: Art Brewer
On a typical cruise of this Surf City— known since ancient times as haleiwa, literally the hale (home) of the iwa (frigate bird)—I usually head into town just before the lunch hour and enter Haleiwa near the Xcel Surf Shop, driving down Haleiwa's main road and past the Cafe Haleiwa, where all surfers have breakfast. From there I check my mail and dispatch letters at the post office, where many of us usually meet to talk story with one another.
From the post office it's on down to the local surf shops for wax (or anything else that's necessary to maintain the surfing lifestyle). Later, I might just stop off at the Raging Isle Shop for mountain bike gear and more surf talk with famous surfboard shaper/cycle store owner Billy Barnfield.
Further down the road, and especially if it's lunchtime, I will check out the little sandwich shop known as Storto's, next door to the BK Surf Shop, a place that's owned by the famous '70s surfer, Barry Kanaiaupuni. With the energy to surf the rest of the day, I will drive on down the road, past the H. Miura Store, where surfer-style board shorts were first invented for North Shore surfers of the '60s, and where they are still being made for the surfers of today. In this historic shop, you can have shirts, pants and boardshorts custom-made, no matter how B-I-G or s-m-a-l-l you might be!
From here it's back across the Old Haleiwa Bridge—alongside the venerable Surf N' Sea shop's yellow walls, and then a slow pedal past the big country park where everyone plays soccer on winter weekends. Eventually I'm back on Kam Highway, cruising past Laniakea and the rest of the North Shore until I'm back home at Sunset Beach.
Yup, that's it, folks—a slow and easy cruise to "Surf Town" Haleiwa and back home again. Now, I just have to think about where I'll be surfing and make sure that I didn't forget to buy that bar of wax I'll need before I can paddle out!
—Bernie Baker, reporting nostalgically from somewhere on the North Shore
Until the Triple Crown of Surfing was created in 1982-83, there had been very little for surfers in Hawaii to be involved in when it came to competitive challenges. There was the early and classic Duke Kahanamoku Invitational Surfing Championships (which had debuted in 1965 and was held sporadically for a few years) and the great Makaha International Surfing Championships, but there wasn't an overall trophy for the best surfer in Hawaii, only individual contest awards. With the creation of the Triple Crown, however, three separate events—The Sunset Beach Pro, The Pipeline Masters and a Haleiwa open meet—became to competitive surfing what the Super Bowl is to football. The Triple Crown now represents the highest laurel in international professional surfing.
Beginning with the Makaha Championships of the '60s and continuing on through to the era of the International Professional Surfing (IPS), competition on the North Shore had always pitted the world's best surfers (meaning the best in Hawaii) against one another. While the Association of Surfing Professionals (ASP) World Championship may be the year-round award for surfing events around the world, ask any surfer—especially one from Hawaii—and he or she will tell you that to win the Triple Crown is to be at the top of the surfing game. Year after year, the three events of the Triple Crown have continued to elicit awe-inspiring performances from surfers. This has always been its purpose, to spotlight the best surfers in the world. But the Triple Crown is also important to Hawaiian surfers for its spirit because it is an award achieved on home reefs and beaches.
In the beginning, forming the Triple Crown was as simple a process as enjoining three friends to start a rock n' roll band. We had our lead guitar (Pipeline), the bass (Sunset) and the drums (Haleiwa), all making great music. These three had been playing their individual songs, and their spirit was strong on the North Shore and in the world of professional surfing. Pipeline and Sunset were already established competition venues, and Haleiwa joined them soon after to form the Triple Crown of surfing.
Kelly Slater and sweet victory at the ASP Men's Pipeline Masters in '94. Photo: Jason Childs
Former world surfing champion Fred Hemmings, the father of modern professional surfing, was the original founder of the Triple Crown. In 1971, Hemmings started the Pipeline Masters contest, the oldest professional surf meet in the world. In 1975, he founded the IPS to determine a world champion for surfing. Hemmings chose established Hawaiian surfer/promoter and pro veteran Randy Rarick to be his competition director. I was brought in as the technical director to put the pieces together and to keep things tight through the many weeks of competition.
As a loosely-knit collection of surfing tournaments—from California to Hawaii and South Africa and back—the IPS circuit was all that professional surfers had from the '70s into the early '80s. In those early days when competitive surfing first emerged from the surfing lifestyle, international contest placings were often tallied casually, then, at the end of the year, surfers and foreign competitors would venture to Hawaii to compete in the North Shore's three contests.
Then came 1982. That year, surfers got together to form the ASP as a union for professional competitors. In those days, it was obvious that Hawaii would have to lead the world in the direction and organisation of competitive surfing, not only because the IPS was based here, but also because the Islands have what are arguably the most spectacular competition conditions on the planet. The epitome of this was the Triple Crown, an event that offered all the challenges and excitement needed to help launch a modern and professional era of competition. The Crown would also provide worldwide viewers with the opportunity to watch the very best surfing action, no matter where they lived. Satellite television could guarantee a new audience for the sport by putting it on an equal visual level as other major sports.
In those early days, there were slight misgivings about joining a new governing body that would impose a new set of rules on the sport in Hawaii, which was after all the birthplace of surfing. This feeling remained for the first year of competition while Hawaii officials watched and wondered as to what extent the ASP would attempt to control the events. Ultimately, the ASP has come to be recognized as an asset for the global growth of the sport.
Victor Ribas, cashing it in in '99. Photo: Jason Childs
1982: The Year Before
The Birth of the Crown
1982 was exciting and historic for many reasons: first, it was the maiden year of the El Nino weather disturbance which by then had been identified and monitored by scientists. Hurricane Iwa swept over Hawaii, causing devastation for two months, but great surf remained for the rest of that winter season.
Days after the hurricane had shut down electrical power on Kauai and the North Shore of Oahu, Michael Ho beat out Hans Hedemann at the Pipeline Masters. Even with a broken hand in a full cast, local boy Ho used all of his big-wave surfing know-how to take control of the event.
This was also the debut Hawaii season for the 16-year-old Australian Martin Potter. For fellow Aussie Tom Carroll, it was a big win for him at Sunset Beach's World Cup, despite his backside disadvantage. 1982 was also historic for Mark Richards as he handily won his Fourth World Championship title.
Pipe: The ultimate wave arena. Photo: Jason Childs
1983: The Crown's Debut
In 1983, an organizational struggle broke out between the ASP and the emerging Triple Crown of Surfing. Not yet members of the ASP, the Triple Crown's best Hawaiian surfers elected to surf their home events and accept no rating points from the ASP.
Dane Kealoha and fellow islander Michael Ho won the opening events, and Kealoha also handily took the prestigious Duke Kahanamoku Classic. Michael Ho, however, emerged as the first official Triple Crown of Surfing Champion. The future of the sport was, for the moment, firmly placed in homegrown Hawaiian hands.
1984
There's no way to tell who will win what in sports, but this winter season started out strong for Californian Joey Buran. Surfing better than anyone in an 8- to 12-foot BIG Pipeline, Buran beat the likes of Tom Carroll and Derek Ho to win. But Ho did a turnaround on everyone by beating out the rest of the surfers for 1984's Triple Crown.
1985
Mark Occhilupo won the Pipe Masters in windblown, stormy Pipe while past World Champ Mark Richards won the Hawaiian Pro at Waimea in surf that had most of the pros wondering just what their limits really were. Michael Ho tested his and went on to win the Triple Crown in great surf.
1986
Pipeline was very consistent throughout the '80s, and for the Marui Pipeline Masters that year, Derek Ho showed that he was in effect the next-generation Gerry Lopez in both style and aggression. Mark Richards took the Hawaiian Pro one more time in giant Waimea, but for Derek it was his year to win his second Triple Crown title, tying him with his brother Michael at two Crowns each.
1987
Australian Gary Elkerton had just gotten married when he flew in for the Triple Crown. In honor of his new bride, Elkerton won the crown with first places at the Hard Rock World Cup and the Hawaiian Pro.
1988
Yes, it was bound to happen—a winter of up-and-down surf conditions. Still, the Pipeline Masters came through with some of the best surf ever seen, and Tom Carroll was there to steal the show. Barton Lynch won the ASP World Title but Derek Ho fired back with his third win of the Triple Crown.
1989
This was the year the senior surfers came back to beat the young guys. At the age of 29, Cheyne Horan won big at the Hawaiian Pro, taking US$50,000 at perfect Sunset Beach. But the big winner was Gary Elkerton, taking the year's Triple Crown title.
1990
Hawaiian pro and Pipeline specialist Ronnie Burns (RIP) had passed away only months earlier, and as the winter contest season began, surfers were dedicating their victories to his memory The early surf itself was something we could all forget about, but it finally cleaned up and came back around for the Pipeline Masters. Tom Curren won the ASP World Title, but it was a fighting Derek Ho who proved stronger than all others when he convincingly reclaimed the Triple Crown (his fourth) for Hawaiians.
1991
Probably the most exciting finals ever to be held at Haleiwa during the Hawaiian Pro, Tom Carroll, Tom Curren, Martin Potter and Johnny Gomes battled it out in a perfect exhibition of competitive surfing. This time, it would be Curren who prevailed, finally winning an event in Hawaii. However, it was the other Tom (Carroll) who won the Pipe Masters from Derek Ho, going on to take the Triple Crown in fabulous surf on the North Shore.
1992
This would become the first of a 3-year winning run for Hawaii's favorite son. Sunny Garcia, in his domination of the Triple Crown. In his quest for the year's first crown. Sunny took the Hawaiian Pro while Martin Potter stole away the World Cup. Kelly Slater snared his first big Pipe Masters win, the first of many for the impressive young surfer from Florida.
1993
Sunny Garda's name popped up again and again in 1993, first for his win at the Hawaiian Pro. While Johnny Gomes captured the World Cup and Derek Ho returned to win at Pipe, based on total points across the board, it was Sunny's world as he took his second Triple Crown.
1994
A new name won big in Hawaii as California's Chris Brown surfed beyond his stature to win at the Hawaiian Pro. Kelly Slater walked away with the Pipe Masters again, but Sunny Garcia's win at the World Cup racked up the points total for his third big Triple Crown award.
1995
