You’ll have to forgive me, but I don’t get out very often, Outside of my life as a surfer that is. I’m one of those guys. I’ve been surfing for nearly thirty five years. For the better part of that thirty-five my life has revolved around the phases of the moon, long v.s. short interval, and the battle between densely packed air molecules and more loosely packed ones rushing to and away from each other in their struggle for space and identity. To tell you the truth, I don’t see this myopia as a problem very often. I consider my position in this universe to be a very fortunate one. I mean, really, would I rather be concerned with which portion of the ocean floor and what wind direction are going to be the best match for tomorrow’s swell or whether some complete nutcase like Al Davis is going to rock my world by pulling another idiotic maneuver and fire his head coach. That’s a classic no brainer.
My personal version of surfer myopia was challenged this summer when my father, a long-time mountain climber, asked me to join him on a climb for what would be the sixtieth anniversary of his first ascent of The Grand Teton, just outside Jackson, Wyoming. Now, I have always had lion’s sized respect for mountain climbers. I see many parallels between their obsession and my own. For example, jobs, relationships, and responsibilities all lost in pursuit of the reward which is rendered in the face of natural forces which could swat your head off like a grape if they so desired but instead, leave you with a feeling somewhere between having conquered and made love to the most powerful forces nature has to offer. This life changing challenge was not contained in the intense physical exertion that was required of me over the seven day period I was involved in the climb. Nor was it lodged in the fact that this time I was the kook. I am not used to that. It did not even reside in the fact that I broke bread with people whose priorities I both admired and respected who weren’t even surfers. No, the real challenge was purely psychological and emotional. It was the way the community of advanced and expert climbers treated both one another and the kooks of climbing, like me.
In surfing, kooks get some pretty harsh treatment. Sometimes, we scowl at them. Sometimes, we swear at them. Sometimes, we even punch them in the face or damage their personal property. Most often we teach kooks a lesson because they do things which endanger or take pleasure away from us more experienced, superior surfers. We rarely take it upon ourselves to step in and speak in a respectful tone about how an illperforming or misbehaving kook could change their ways to improve the safety and pleasure of all involved. And the net result of this path of behavior is more anger, between kooks and experienced surfers, and less safety, because no one wants to be shown up, beat up or disrespected. Even worse, the sport as a whole is no better off, because the kook still does not know the proper way to perform or act. How smart are we?
Many times over the course of my time in the mountains I was witness to experienced climbers taking it upon themselves to seriously but graciously inform and even teach novice/kook climbers techniques which would make the mountains more pristine, safer, and fun for all who were there. Sure they could have gone about it differently and been downright intimidating. In some situations, where a kook could have easily been killed, it even seemed appropriate, but the advanced climbers chose not to. Perhaps they understand that if you have a bunch of tense people engaging in a dangerous activity it becomes even more dangerous. Sure beginners need to understand the consequences of acting stupidly or getting in over their heads, but that message may be better transmitted with firmness and respect rather than mockery and ridicule. And with the realization of this question I arrive at many others.
When we school a kook, do we really want to make the line-up better? or do we just want to make someone feel like crap so as to make the failures in our own lives not seem so glaring? Do we really think we are going to return surfing to a better, simpler time? or are we just being greedy and myopic? Somehow, I hope we realize that we need to teach all new surfers firmly, graciously, and respectfully, because without the best efforts of all in love with the ocean, not just surfers, the inter-tidal zone will quickly become an unappealing concoction of cast off garbage, blooming algae, and fecal matter.
