From the time we moved to Hawaii in 1970 till Joe’s final days, surfing was a central focus in his life. Early on I was a chicken-shit in the waves, largely from not having enough knowledge on how to swim under them to avoid their full wrath.
Joe, on the other hand, was pretty fearless in the ocean. Upon moving back to the mainland the family would have a week at the beach each summer somewhere on the East coast. Often we’d stay South of Indian River Inlet in Bethany Beach, Delaware. Joe would wake me first thing in the morning, raring to walk the long stretch North to the public beach just South of the inlet where we could surf until 10am before getting kicked out of the water so the public could swim.
We’d walk back down that stretch of beach free of houses and set aside as a bird sanctuary to get some lunch, take a nap and then repeat the walk North again to surf from 5pm until time to head back and join the family for dinner. This photo was likely taken by dad during one of those treks back.
One evening the surf was scary, to me at least. The waves were thicker than usual and a darker green. As was the norm we’d be sitting on our boards just past the break point facing out to sea to pick the next best wave. A rogue wave broke much closer to shore than usual taking me backwards and up over the falls, spinning me around like a rag in a washing machine. Sputtering for air I made it safely to shore, surrendering to the ocean for the day.
Sitting on shore facing out to the surf that evening I’d see Joe take the wild approach of riding these waves the wrong way, not out of the tube but into the breaking tube where it would explode over him. Then he’d go for it again. He’d milk it till the last minute needed to make it back to dinner in time.
Yesterday I picked up Barbarian Days a surf memoir by William Finnegan who lived in Hawaii and surfed there 4-years before us. He writes for the New Yorker and continues to surf to this day. Had Joe not inherited his mental genetics I believe that he would have lived a life like Mr. Finnegan, writing for a living and surfing all over the world. Reading his book I’m transported to this imagined better life I’d have wished for Joe.
Here is a link with a shot of a similar wave breaking at Indian River. Sounds like the surf hours have stayed the same but that they’ve changed the conditions of the break with sand pumping activities.
In the photo shown on this link the wave is breaking where you’d usually ride from the right side of this photo to the left as you’re facing out to sea…that day mentioned above Joe would have been riding from the left-side of this photo toward the right into the impact zone.
