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The sign posted above the Windansea shack in the late '70s was a warning written on an antique table by local Windansea surfer Chris O'Rourke. Courtesy photo/Moranville collection.
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The fine art of localism

“Territorialism is an animal habit.”

— Surf journalist, circa 1976

 

“Go home.”

— The most common words spoken at Windansea by a local surfer in the ’70s & ’80s

 

My confessing to once having employed localism as a form of crowd control feels like confessing to a homicide. Justifiable homicide in my opinion, but many would consider my actions a crime against humanity. To that, I plead the fifth. I learned the fine art of localism in the summer of 1976 at Windansea. When I attempted importing my newfound vice to my home break, Swami’s, however, locals there disapproved. It was then I came up with a secret, non-combative method of crowd control.

I no longer surf Swami’s or any crowded breaks, so I will now reveal my secret. Three of us would take off together on the same wave. The two in front would guard the shoulder, making sure nobody dropped in. They soon kicked out, leaving the surfer closest to the curl free to ride the wave alone. Once the riding surfer paddled back into the lineup, he took the place of one of the two other surfers. One of them took off on the next wave as the others took off in front of him, and the process repeated itself. This method, while effective at getting more waves, may not have worked well at Windansea where some apparently enjoyed the idea of surfing being a contact sport.

— excerpt from Chris Ahrens’ upcoming book, “Windansea: Life. Death. Resurrection.”

 

Surfers don’t always fit in with polite society. One reason is that surfing is not a team sport (many argue that it’s not a sport at all) but an individual one.

As the individual becomes an increasingly endangered species, surfers are sometimes branded as renegades. No, not well-mannered competitive pro surfers or graduates of 100-buck-a-day surf schools with department store surfboards made of rubber.

Dedicated surfers, who have exited the tube twice before your morning coffee, count wealth by the wave. They live for them and would, in extreme cases, die for them. You are hereby advised not to test that theory.

A hardcore surf addict will exchange social status, career and family for a hand-shaped 7’6” Rusty semi-gun and a healthy saltwater fix. Check that 1,000-yard stare. Except for being tanned, and their usually nonviolent proclivity, they can resemble prison inmates.

Maybe that’s fitting. Most non-surfers and even some surfers dismiss localism, or territorialism as it is sometimes known, as an animal habit. Localism, in itself, however, is not a crime, but a reaction to the threat of invasion.

I know this is a controversial topic, and I realize that legally, everyone has the right to enjoy the ocean. But there are unwritten laws that are working better in an unregulated environment like a surfing break than those enacted sometimes thousands of miles away by those who have never walked in your bare feet or ridden a wave.

Personally, I am sorry for my once-aggressive actions in the lineup and would like to apologize to anyone I may have hurt during those rowdy years.

Of course, as opponents say, the waves don’t belong to me; they are to be shared. I get that. But when 100 people who have no idea of surf etiquette cram themselves into a peak that can hold five people, there will be problems.

Territorialism is certainly an animal habit, but every animal knows that their territory must be guarded or lost.

To learn more about “Windansea,” please visit: gofundme.com/f/windanseabigbook

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