Last year at this time we were ogling historic surfboards on display at the Santa Cruz Art & History Museum. Two of the original surfboards that Hawaiian princes pushed into the water and rode waves on at the mouth of the San Lorenzo River were resting in our midst as precious sculptures . The boards were on special loan from the Bishop Museum in Honolulu. These very boards, made from local redwood trees and milled here in town, were instrumental in introducing surfing to the North American continent (aka Mainland) in 1885.
The boards were built in Santa Cruz under the direction of three Hawaiian princes who were attending school in nearby San Mateo. Surfing was originally an "elitist" sport practiced by the Hawaiian royalty. How things have changed!
This puts Santa Cruz on the map as the original Surf City, although a contingent from Southern California refuse to acknowledge this fact.
A former Westside neighbor, Mac Reed, was responsible for putting the pieces of the surfboard puzzle together. Mac was an avid collector of surf memorabilia and somehow sourced the boards at the Bishop Museum.
I had followed the story but it wasn't until I was in the presence of the boards that the whole thing came together for me with one big "wow!" I didn't break down and cry, or experience a spiritual epiphany, but it moved me in a strangely visceral way. Some objects, simple material pieces, I have found, carry powerful medicine, especially when they are intrinsically connected to people, events or personal memories.
Surfing today holds such a cachet and to think that a significant historic part of its story can be traced back more than 130 years to these boards is impressive. Most surfers adopt a very personal relationship with their boards. The boards themselves have a sensual, water-borne quality that helps define our relationship with the water and waves.
The surf has been extremely fun lately. Not big. Not rough. But clean. Water clear and seasonably warm with seams between crowds and lingering sets from the south. Anytime you find yourself momentarily in sync with the forces of the ocean, going with the flow, sensing the water's rush and foam, it's a good thing.
Take care of your local beach: pack your trash, pick up and remove plastic, say hey and share the stoke.
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