Locals Only

Let's face it, surfers are known for their gentle nature. I know, there's some serious gang shit going on in Australia, and the ever present beef between kooks and the honored members of surfing's "secret society," but really, we're more like golfers. Surfing is an activity, a skill acquired over time, not a sport. We're fighting nature - wind and sea - we should not, in my opinion, be fighting one another.


While visiting the tourist town of Seaside last weekend, I had my first real taste of localism. Walking to the end of what appeared to be a rather popular point break, camera in my hand, girlfriend on my arm, I had not one, but two people approach me suggesting I leave my camera in the car. The first, a yellow-toothed kid carrying a shortboard, seemed irritated and eager for an inappropriate response. The second guy, somewhat older and clearly not as stupid, simply said: "You'll piss a lot of people off if you bring that thing to the point." Fair enough. Seaside surfers like their secret spot.

Wait a minute...

There are no secrets in a place like Seaside. Everyone knows where to surf. Most even know when. So what's the deal? Why all the animosity? The problem, in my opinion, is that surfers seek solitude. We wholeheartedly believe we can find that secret surf spot, that point break no one else knows about. But when the reality of the situation sinks in, that this isn't a secret society, that since the late 1950's surfing has been a summer activity for lots of land lovers, we tend to get a little upset, a little possessive.

While waves break up and down the west coast, a clean point break can easily become a coveted commodity. Those that live within walking distance, or even within a half hour drive, often look down upon those who intrude. You've seen it if you've surfed in So-Cal; "locals only," the infamous phrase emblazoned on trash cans and park benches, that suggests, ever so eloquently - you should surf somewhere else.

So how do we solve this problem? How can one safely surf somewhere they're not familiar with? I have visited countless surf spots where the locals are not only friendly, but encouraging. Why then, when visiting a spot so close to home, do I encounter such hostility?

I guess I can't answer that question. That is the responsibility of those that live in Seaside and similar coastal towns, where apparently only locals are allowed to surf.

What I can say, however, is that when I met a young man outside of a coffee shop the following morning, someone who grew up surfing in Seaside but had given it up due to the possessive, "locals only" attitude, it was the first time I felt bad about being a surfer.