Surf Drive
Performing for an audience of none.
I’ve had the pleasure of being at a beautiful family beach house this week in South Carolina. A place that doesn’t often rise to the top ranks of many dream surf trips, but they do have surf shops and white wash is created here. So there is surf.
I’ve managed to resist the urge to get out there for four days now. It hasn’t been that tough, the waves don’t do a whole lot in the way of enticing you, but their mere existence at all does beckon. And the possibility of them at all keeps my eyes fixed on the sea at all hours of the day. I’d probably keep my eye on a river if I was living near the bank of one. You never know when it might turn on.
Without realizing it at all, I run equations of wind, swell, tide and sand into potential surf scenarios and know exactly when a surf window might arise. Today was the day I had been eyeing most of the week. A good overnight thrashing of wind and a midday high tide meant energy. I played it cool all morning and then the window opened up.
It coincided with the appearance of our retired fraternity bro neighbors on the beach showcasing their lackluster skills with a pigskin. Pretty sure it inspired my flex.
I casually trotted past them, battled the wind that wanted desperately to send me and my soft top skyward. I paddled out into the brown sea that was absolutely terrorized by wind. I’m not sure what sort of male evolutionary ego showcase this was because none of them even noticed me, but I did feel the need to demonstrate that my aging waterskills are better than their subpar football skills. The mind is a funny thing, but it does like to surf.
I rode a few chips like The Duke and s-turned my way on waves as long as I could, illustrating my handle on any and all oceanic conditions. It’s funny that the same sort of drive that sent me out there today is the one I would use in any situation, big waves, small waves, choppy waves, crowded waves. Find your ego and it will get you out there. Even if you’re alone. Something will drive you to go out. Prove something to someone and no one. Throw a few peers on the beach, a wife on the deck, extended family at the house and your own drive to surf and you will paddle out into some unbelievable conditions.
The first thing I said to my wife when I came in was, “Did you see me out there?” She did not, of course. What was there to see anyway? A man in a thrashed sea alone with his complicated thoughts.
Turns out the bros on the beach did not notice my mythic Duke parallel stance either. Nor my ability to cross step a soft top or connect chips from chops and do it all with grace I’ve honed for decades. Subtle I know, but it’s there. They just don’t know surfing when they see it. But I also bet they don’t know I used to be able to throw a pigskin a quarter mile either.—Travis Ferré
Above photo: Your author today in South Carolina, by Pat Sheehan.