Why surfing with the cutest (and best) surfer of
all time ain't no great thing…
Wouldn’t it be great to surf with Kelly
Slater? He’s the world’s best surfer and an
inspiration to generations of professional and casual surfers
alike. Of course you want to surf with the King.
Are you sure? Some true stories might make you think
otherwise. Read on!
A few years back I landed in Barbados on one of my many trips
there. When I arrived late in the evening in Bathsheba, home to the
consistent and often powerful Soup Bowl, I was greeted at the local
rum shop by a few local friends. The first thing out of their
mouths?
“Kelly’s on the island.”
Now, this isn’t an unusual event. The King cut his teeth over
the years on powerful north swells at Soup Bowl, pound for pound as
heavy as Hawaiian North Shore juice. Check out his section in
Campaign 2 or the myriad illegal downloads of that section
on YouTube for proof.
Slater is well-liked on Barbados and frequently returns to the
island in between contests and sponsored events. No big deal, but
wouldn’t it be cool to have a session with him at Soup Bowl? Of
course!
Or, of course not…
Three days into the trip, I was out at average November Soup
Bowl, a combo of windswell and smaller, rising north swell. It was
a typical weekday, mid-day crowd of five, with myself, a Huntington
Beach lifeguard named Adam, and three locals, including Kevin
Nicholls, a homegrown Bathsheba standout. We were trading waves in
the shifting peaks, with plenty to go around.
About an hour into the session, we noticed a little commotion in
the parking lot, but thought nothing of it. Soon, a familiar bald
head paddled out and sat with us in the lineup.
Kelly is very personable. Not too talkative, but polite. Not
overly aggressive, but often in the right spot. I would surf a wave
as hard as I possibly could, then paddle out to watch him show me
how I truly was not surfing the wave to its fullest. I was surfing
with Kelly Slater! I was stoked! For about 20
minutes…
Soon enough word got out and average Soup Bowl with just six
guys out turned into a mad house. I guess everybody wants
to surf with the King. And damn near everybody on the island seemed
to have the same idea at the same time. Suddenly the main peak was
swarming with locals, tourists, kooks and chicks on longboards
sitting in the channel, you name it. It was out of hand.
Unstoked…
Adam and I paddled up the reef to High Rock, another peak
altogether and watched the mayhem until Slater paddled in about 45
minutes later. Lesson learned: don’t surf with the King if you
don’t want to share.
Unhappy Corollary #1:
Two days later, the Bajans (that’s what Barbadians call
themselves, sounds kinda like BAY-jen, not
Bah-hen, because they’re from Barbados not Baja
California) had their annual national surf tournament at Soup Bowl,
so it was closed to free surf. It was windy that day, so after a
few fun days, it was time to take a break, drink a few Banks beers
and rum punches and watch the event. Reggae music over the
loudspeaker, good local food, and a great tropical vibe are typical
to any Bajan surf event.
After a few hours, we were walking back to our place along
Parlour beach, which is just up the road from Soup Bowl. Parlour is
a big, shifty, tricky field of waves that takes some time to get to
know. Usually it’s empty or uncrowded, but up top we could see what
seemed to be at least 20 people out. Twenty surfers at windy,
shitty Parlour? What’s up with that? Then we figured it
out.
Up the road, there were three long-lens photographers shooting
the surfers. I walked up to one and said, “Let me guess.
Kelly’s out, right?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied sarcastically.
Parlour was crap. Total crap. The King probably just wanted a
solo session to get wet. I know I’ve done the same and though it’s
not a quality wave when it’s windy, warm tropical waves all to
yourself aren’t so bad in the end. Unless of course you’re out and
Kelly paddles out, then it’s a mob scene. So I’ve learned. So I’ve
learned…
Unhappy Corollary #2:
Fast forward two years. I’m out at Surfrider Beach in Malibu on
a fun south swell. Malibu is always crowded when it’s on, but I
have this special lineup between Second and Third points
that I like to sit on. When the waves shift a certain way, I get a
bunch of long waves in a session. It’s never crowded in that
“tweener” spot and is a great way to enjoy a “secret spot” between
the mobs at the main peak.
There were just five of us out trading waves. Sounds familiar? A
familiar face paddled out and it turned out to be Adam the
Huntington Beach lifeguard. After a high-five, exchanging “waddups”
and so on, I brought up that time we were surfing Soup Bowl when
Kelly paddled out and everything went crazy. We had a laugh and
compared that crowd to double whatever we were seeing at the main
peaks here at the ‘bu.
Not five minutes later, as if on cue from the director of a
grade-B surf horror film, a familiar bald head paddled out. Dammit,
it’s Kelly and he’s coming straight to our little “secret
spot.”
As I said, the King is a nice guy. He gives us a nod, asks if
it’s fun, and otherwise just fits into our little pack. Not for
long…
Faster than white on rice, flies on shit, you name it, it seems
as if the packs at Second and Third point flowed to our
spot as if a drain opened and they were caught in a rushing rapid
headed straight for the King. Adam and I looked at each other as if
we are caught in the same déjà vu moment at the same time (because,
well, we were) and immediately bailed to the beach.
From the sand we witnessed world class surfing not at
Second or Third point, but at what had become “Slater
Point” because everybody wanted to surf with the King. It was a
crazy display of crowd mentality that I will never forget.
What’s it like to be the greatest surfer in the world? You’ll
have to ask Kelly Slater. He’s an excellent ambassador for the
sport, a role model in many ways, and sure he has well-earned
privileges: boat trips, secret spots, keys to cities, you name it.
But, apart from those waves on the Dream Tour or a secluded
surf magazine trip, it has to be hard to find privacy at any
regular spot.
Superstardom has its advantages, but clearly it has its
disadvantages.
And that privacy thing?
I’m not just talking about him. I’m talking about me. I mean,
look, he’s able to get any wave he wants. People either give him
waves, or he just goes deeper, dodging kooks, wannabes, and
groupies as he flies down the line. But I’m a regular guy and I get
stuck having to move down the beach, go in, or just wait until he’s
done so that people can go back to using common sense and return to
what they were doing before the King paddled out.
Of course you want to surf with the King. Wait, are you
sure? Be careful what you wish for…
