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Anyone
interested in surfing locally should check out the
Oregon Surfpage
The Web site has weather and wave forecasts, a guide to
good surfing beaches and retailers, and a bulletin board.
Cleanline
Surf and Sports has shops in Cannon Beach (171 Sunset
Blvd., [503] 436-9726) and Seaside (719 1st St., [503]
738-7888).
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Like the die-hard ski bums who move to resort towns like
Lake Tahoe and Jackson Hole, wave-hungry windsurfers have
flocked to Hood River to cut up the world-renowned Columbia
River Gorge. Now a less likely sports mecca--the Oregon
coast--is emerging as a celebrated center for traditional
surfers.
To some, surfing in Oregon sounds as appealing as water-skiing
in Alaska. Yet there exists a core of native surfers who
are, perhaps, more dedicated and territorial than sled
dogs. It's not hard to see why. The waves off beaches
like Seaside and Short Sands are by all accounts exemplary.
Then again, to enjoy them surfers must suffer through
forbidding weather and water that rarely reaches the 60-degree
mark. The weather amplifies surfers' typical "locals only"
attitude; those who endure winter conditions feel they've
earned a claim to Oregon's frigid surf. These factors
spell trouble in the seas for veterans and newcomers who
must share increasingly crowded waters.
Here's a paradox that would-be Oregon surfers need to
understand: On a coast that's 100 percent public, there
may not be room for you. Oregon's north shore group of
day-in, day-out surfers guards the home breaks fiercely.
All of the surfers interviewed for this article insisted
on maintaining their anonymity for fear of disrupting
their clan's vibe. Two employees of Cleanline Surf and
Sports in Cannon Beach recognize the precariousness of
their situations: their livelihood depends, in part, on
beginner surfers, but they want to keep the best curls
secret. The protectiveness exhibited by Oregon surfers
is unrelenting; the way they tell it, you'd think the
sand at Seaside was made of gold.
Don't be fooled by their laid-back attitude and laconic
speech; surfers are as competitive as college ball players.
Unbeknownst to many this side of the coast range the cute
beach town of Seaside is notorious for its elitist surfers.
You have to be plenty experienced or just a damn fool
to try to hang ten there. Surfers of all levels agree
that Seaside is the place, but even if you're good,
locals might not make room for you. Take, for example,
this Feb. 19 posting on the Oregon Surfpage: "I have no
respect for Seaside surfers. I am a Newport local who
has lived here my whole life. I'm 19 years old and am
sick and tired of hearing stories of Seaside locals giving
vibes to other Oregon locals, it's crap. Hard-core Oregon
surfers are one of a kind and hard to find. I didn't do
anything to try and start shit, but it found me because
of some punk local. It's wrong, they didn't even ask me
where I was from, I'm not some kook val [an inexperienced
Joe from the Willamette Valley]."
Experienced surfers who go visiting know well enough
to work their way into the scene slowly. Surfing involves
a lot of waiting: waiting for juicy waves and waiting
for your turn to ride. Depending on the location and crowd,
it's usually not just a matter of paddling out and ripping
it up. Once they're in the water, surfers hang out in
a lineup, waiting until they're at the top of the rotation.
But at certain beaches, you've got to prove that you even
deserve a place in line--by hanging back, showing respect
for the locals and proving your ability on the small inside
waves.
At Cleanline, all board renters receive copies of articles
from Surfer
and Longboarder magazines giving tips on how to
ease into the lineup. One employee of Cleanline Surf,
a relative newcomer to the sport, maintains that throughout
the world there are certain spots outsiders will never
be able to surf because locals won't make room in the
lineup. "When they've got a good thing, they want to protect
it," he says.
For a while, coastal residents had the waves and the
rather cruel conditions to themselves. But surfing is
incredibly seductive: The adrenaline rush. The solitude.
The speed. Communing with nature. Another Cleanline employee,
an Oregon native who's been surfing for 10 years, spoke
dreamily about the big toothy fish, sea lions and porpoises
that can't be seen from land. He notes that over the past
eight years the surfing community, along with the coastal
population, has boomed. Although no hard statistics are
available, this employee speculates that the combined
resident surfing core of Astoria, Seaside and Cannon Beach
is between 150 to 200. He estimates that it jumps to about
30,000 on summer weekends. The threat to native surfers'
relative peace comes from both advanced surfers moving
into the area and out-of-town amateurs trying to pick
up surfing as a recreational activity.
Anyone who believes that surfing is a summer sport clearly
doesn't know what summers are like at the Oregon coast.
El Niño gives residents a swimmable ocean about
once every five years. Surfers don 5-millimeter thick
wet suits year round; to wear anything less is to tempt
hypothermia. Since the warmer months offer only slightly
better conditions than those between November and April
(the water temperature is actually warmer in the winter
but the weather is stormier), devoted surfers take what
they can get when they can get it. Forget the Beach Boys
and tanned bodies. To catch a wave, Oregon surfers have
to brave inhospitable weather and even sharks. (The
Oregonian reported last April that since 1976, 12
surfers in Oregon and Washington waters had been attacked
by white sharks.) As the first Cleanline employee puts
it, "You've really got to love surfing to do it in Oregon."
That is, if you can get in the lineup.
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Willamette Week | originally
published March 24,
1999
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