Some had established nicknames like, Surfer Crow and Fearless Fred; for the rest, my brother and I invented nicknames. Cheeks, The Bolt, Surfboards Australia, The Red-headed Freak, The Indian...
The established local crew were mostly older; yet only a few years older, late teens or early twenties. Still, they seemed to us, wisened old masters; they had the Rivermouth wired. We were beginners, "gremmies," and as such in the social hierarchal ways of that era, they did not deign us acknowledgement in the water, let alone, speak to us. It was a big day in my surfing life when the best of them, The Bolt, did say something to me that day, in maybe my third summer of surfing. I rushed home to inform my brother that: "The Bolt talked to me!" He'd complimented one of my rides, then advised angling my take-off on the really walled up waves. But what mattered was that he'd seen one of my rides! I was no longer invisible; I had a place in the line-up and had become one them, a local!
Eventually I got to know all of the crew, and their real names. Even socialized a bit out of the water. Shared some epic days and waves, lottsa laughs; it felt good to be one of them. Surfers from other places would often complain that the Rivermouth was too crowded and localized. But I always thought our crew was pretty mellow. There wasn't alot of yelling and fighting. You had to earn your place in the line-up before you got many waves but they were all pretty accepting of non-locals, as long as they weren't douchebags. I know when I would go down to surf the pointbreaks in New Hampshire it was much more cut-throat and intimidating if you weren't a local down there. I'll never forget the guy who dropped in on me at Rye-on-the-Rocks who swung his forearm back at me and knocked me off my board...that kind of stuff just didn't happen at the Rivermouth.
In those days, you could tell who was out from up in the parking lot, just by watching. Everyone had their own style and you recognized their cars and boards and especially how they surfed. And at my spot, locals always outnumbered the interlopers...
It's not like that now. Clones. The line-up is cluttered with clones. Clear-white, potato-chip tri-fins or quads. Young dudes trying to get air; no style, the wave as mere vert-ramp. Or pudgy middle-aged longboarders who took up the sport cuz the "life-style" fit their mid-life crisis and looked cool in that tv car ad. Nowdays the line-up is cluttered with more kids and girls; when I started there were almost neither of those demographics. And they're coming from all over, Massachussetts, New Jersey, Montreal (VANloads of Montrealers!) all drawn here because Surfline and Google Earth told them it was one of the East Coast's best waves (which it is, but people, it's still the frikkin EAST Coast!) And SUPS...don't even get me started about SUPS...yeah, that wass a good idea, lets include into the mix big clunky, unwieldy barges ridden by mostly beginners who have no clue about wave dynamics or lineup etiquette...yeah, right...
Most days now I paddle out at the Rivermouth, I'm the only "local" in the water. 'Cept for the younger crew, some of the hot up-and-comers, I'm the only one of the old crew left. Strange faces all around me, some of them even giving stink-eye, as if they rule the break and I'M the outsider! This summer during the hurricane Irene swell, I paddled out on a bodyboard because I'd been having really bad back spasms that prevented me from popping up to my feet on my surfboard. So I figured it was either sit on the beach and cry while the best swell of the year passed me by, or get out in the water any way I could. I chose the latter; read my profile handle, I embrace the ancient Hawaiian credo of being more than just a surfer but a total waterwoman. After I outmaneuvered some twenty-something punk for one of the set waves, I kicked back to the line-up only to have him scowl at me and mutter: "This isn't a beginner spot!" Mr. Tough-Guy paddled away before I could retort...
I miss the old crew. Most of the older ones don't even surf anymore. Bad-backs, hip-replacements, substance abuse, etc. Some have moved on to more wave-rich locales, long ago. But even my contemporaries, go mostly AWOL during all the minor wave days. They only pull their boards out of the back of their pick-ups during major swells, and often times, they still dominate the line-up. Even the young hot-shots, will huddle together and demure them the best set waves. But those days when da old crew, when my old crew is out there charging again, are getting fewer and farther between. Makes me a little sad...
Now I've got my own issues...bad back, bad knees, arthritis, and a lot more subcutaneous tissue around the middle than I'd prefer. I can't surf nearly as well as I used to. Don't even own a 6'2" 2.5 inch thick thruster anymore. And though the line-up is a sometimes lonely place for me these days, I still get buzzed after a good ride. I still like coming hard off the bottom and sling-shotting out onto a long wall...I'd like to think that though it will hurt when and if that day I can no longer push and stumble my way to my feet, that I won't simply give up and call it a career. My love is too deep...isn't it? Hell, if I'm reduced to a bodyboard or even a...(holding my nose!) SUP, I'd like to think I'll still be out there, in the water, still smiling, cuttin off all the young punks who think they own the break, still stumblin up the beach after a session, salt-water draining from my nasal passages, still, surfing still...a surfer!
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