Surfboard Tales, Part Eight

I can’t help but notice the remarkable obsession with money and showy material goods that is now a normal part of common life, and a normal part of surfing, too. When I was a teenager, none of my peer group owned his or her own board; everyone rented the same make and model of surfboard from the same place. Of course, none of us was wealthy and that vacation to the Jersey shore, as tatty as that sounds to many of my neighbors in Litchfield County, was the biggest luxury of our young lives. The idea of actually buying a surfboard, which in 1969 or so would have cost approximately $65, was laughably fantastic. It didn’t matter to us of course, as surfboards are merely tools. They were something we used to participate in a great natural and spiritual experience. Or just to have some thrills. After all, one can build a house with a $10 hammer as well as with a $100 one.

Apparently, I’m not the only one to notice this new reality. One morning, while patiently waiting with about a dozen others for what we hoped would be a set of really stunning waves, I had some observations on technique shared with me by a guy known as “Hoodoo Bob.”

Hoodoo Bob: “You know that guy right?”
Me: “Yeah, I see him most mornings.”
Hoodoo Bob: “I think he can catch any wave; even the garbage.”
Me: “That’s talent.”
Hoodoo Bob: “You bet. And this guy, the longboarder? Only guy I know who can walk the nose on the East Coast.”
Me: “No kidding.”
Hoodoo Bob: “Really. See this guy?” He indicated a young man walking down the beach with a surfboard marked with the logo of a European fashion house. “He’s the best surfer on the beach.”
Me: “Is that right? I’ve never seen him surf.”
Hoodoo Bob: “Me, neither.”
Me: “What? Then why…?”
Hoodoo Bob: “Got to figure, doesn’t it? He’s got to be the best. He has a $3000 board.”

[Excerpt from Reading Water, all rights reserved © 2011]