Surf Nation

North Shore pass notes

Here I am back in England. Jet-lagged, moi? Not a bit of it. It's perfectly normal to be wide awake, wanting breakfast, or lunch, or supper, and writing a surf blog, at 1.30 in the morning. So, without further ado, here is a handy conversational guide to what to expect on your North Shore trip. (Buttons is photographed but lest there are any misunderstandings this Q&A did not take place with him.)

What part of Australia are you from?

I'm not. I'm from England.

You're from England! Awesome! It's cold there, right?

Yes, it can be a little chilly. But not where I live. I live in the tropical bit.

Tropical England? Which bit is that?

Cornwall. It's on the end and sticks out into the Atlantic. There's a palm tree in every garden.

Awesome! I know where you mean. You can surf there, right?

Correct. But we surf elsewhere, too. Scotland, for example, has its very own North Shore.

But dude, it must be freezing.

It is bit chilly, yes, but modern wetsuits are amazing. You can be warm even in the snow and ice.

Dud, you English are hardcore. I've heard of people surfing in the cold but in snow? Man, that's gnarly.

Thank you. But talking of gnarly,the surf you've got here is impressive. That Pipeline wave of yours is three times bigger than anything in Cornwall even when it's flat. As for Waimea when it's working, it is a leviathan among waves.

You English talk kinda funny. Love your accent, though. How're you finding life on the North Shore?

Expensive. A pack of ground coffee in Foodland is $14.00. That's more than double what it'd cost in the UK. But other than that, it's amazing. It's like being on a film set. World class surfers amble past and tear it up in front of your eyes. I've lost count of how many surfing super-heroes I've seen, or stood next to in Foodland.

Bro, everyone surfs here. Did I tell you I used to be a pro?

No, you didn't. But tell me, if I wanted to paddle out at Sunset, or Pipe, or Backyards, or Velzyland or Aint's or Off the Wall, would I have a hope in hell of getting a wave?

Sure, bro. If you show respect and patience you'll get your waves. Not as many as the locals, but you'll get some.

Acutally, I have a bad neck [cue tedious digression to explain cervical myelopathy and ACDF].

Dude, that's gnarly. Maybe you shouldn't be surfing. Shouldn't you quit while you're ahead?

Possibly. But I'm definitely not up for Pipe, unless it's flat. I would probably die. Is there anywhere mellow I can surf?

Sure. There's Chun's Reef or Sunset Point. Beginners can learn down at Haleiwa where Buttons has his surf school. There's also Kuilima Point, at the Turtle Bay Resort.

Yes, I surfed Kuilima Point already. Is it part of the seven-mile miracle?

No bro, the seven-mile miracle runs from Waimea to Sunset. But it's still a North Shore wave. When did you surf it?

A few days ago.

Wasn't it flat then?

Er, some of the sets were well over head high. What would you call that on the North Shore?

We'd call that flat, or maybe a foot. But well done, dude, you rode a North Shore wave! Stoked for you!

Thank you. I have to say that you Hawaiians are a lot friendlier than I'd been led to believe. The surf media portrays surfing on the North Shore as taking your life into your hands not just because of the more challenging surf than Brits like me are used to be but also because of endemic and very heavy localism.

Localism sucks, man. Here it's about the aloha spirit. Give love and get love back. That's the Hawaiian way.

Does that really apply in the line-up at Off the Wall?

Not always, but you get the idea.

I do. Be patient, show respect, and all will be well, even in the water.

That's right, bro. You English learn fast. Just a shame you spent so many years colonising the world and imposing your own norms and customs in places where they had no right to be.

I am not related to Capt Cook. Honest.

No worries, bro. What's that painting you've got there?

It's a sketch called 'The Last Tree on Earth' by my mate Tony Plant. It's on a journey.

The last tree on earth. Bro, that's kinda cool. What does it make you think?

It makes me feel sad. But then again, I met some great people out here, and so did the painting.

So it's been a good journey then?

One of the best. Mahalo.

Leaving Oahu: In Praise of Buttons Kaluhiokalani

Seven days is not enough on Oahu. Each one has been crammed with activity but I've barely scratched the surface of life here. It's time to start packing up now, but as I come to leave (full of resolve to return) I find myself pondering the gentleman I met yesterday, Buttons Kaluhiokalani.

Buttons is a man who's had one hell of a life. When I asked him about his lowest moments, he said there were two - and both were when he'd been clinically dead. On the first occasion, when he was 38, he was DOA after partying just a little too hard down in Waikiki. He came round in hospital when his sister started tickling his feet. Two weeks later, he did the same thing again. This time, a la Pulp Fiction, a syringe full of adrenalin stuck into his chest brought him back.

Being dead a couple of times is on the gnarly side of things. But Buttons - a progressive surfer who was way ahead of his time - was locked into the party scene. It took meeting his Tahitian wife, Hiriata, for things to turn round. They met five years ago, when Buttons was in his mid-forties, and have a four-year-old son, Nuutea, and a baby daughter, Nawaiomalukea. In total, Buttons has eight children and eight grand-children. Nuutea and Nawaiomalukea light up his life today; all his children surf.

When he fell for Hiriata, Buttons got his life together. She played a huge part in his rehabilitation. As he told me: "Hiriata said that if I wanted to be with her, I had to have a plan. So I came up with one - to run my own surf school." That surf school has gone from strength to strength, and Buttons doesn't plan to return to his old ways.

"People still offer me stuff but I always say no. I don't say 'No thank you', because why should I thank them? I just say I don't do that stuff anymore. In that world people are always looking to see you take a fall, to bring you down. I don't thank them; I just say no."

Buttons today is full of charisma, lean and fit thanks to surfing and daily 40-minute home gym routine, and big on the aloha spirit. "It's about giving and sharing. It's the way I was raised. It's the Hawaiian way. If you give love, you get love back. If people come here to surf and remember that, they'll be fine."

The more I spoke to Buttons, the more memories of the Wrecking Machine days came back to me. I felt a kinship that I hadn't expected; I felt melancholy about mistakes made; I felt regretful and sad. Maybe Buttons has these emotions too, but, as his life shows, there's no point dwelling on them. The only thing to do is keep going and try to live a better life, perhaps even the right life.

On Oahu: Two Legends and A Painting

It's been another busy day. Headed down to Malekahana beach for a swim in the morning. This was a classic slice of paradise and made for some excellent beach running too. Tony Plant's painting did not come on this trip but it did meet Hans Hedemann at lunchtime. Hans was a good talker and I enjoyed hearing of his career back in the day. He reached no. 4 in the world at one juncture and, but for the transitional period between the IPS and ASP, could well have won the world title. Hans explained that in the first year of the ASP tour, Hawaiian events were not counted, instead remaining part of the IPS. These would have been his strongest events, taking place in his backyard, and Hans had already won the first two ASP contests, which were held in South Africa. He had to sit out the IPS Hawaiian leg and ultimately slipped to fourth over the final eight Australian legs of the ASP tour.

Was Hans regretful? Not a bit of it. He regarded his time as one of surfing's first professionals as "a gift", and is palpably still stoked by surfing, whether with his kids, on his own or by teaching people through his surf schools at Turtle Bay and in Waikiki. And of Tony's painting, Hans said: "If this is the last tree on earth, then this tree must last forever. It'll be the beginning of more. All it takes is one."

Next up was another legend, Buttons Kaluhiokalani. We hooked up at Ted's Bakery and had a great chat. Buttons' story is pretty full-on, involving a lot of drugs and some serious scrapes, but he's come through the dark times and is another example of pure surfing stoke. For a 52-year-old, he is in unbelievably good shape; in fact, he's in better shape than a lot of 32-year-olds. As with Hans, we covered a lot of ground, including Buttons' take on British surfing:

"Sure you've got waves. They're cold, but you know how surfers are. We're dedicated. If I had to paddle out in the cold, I would."

Hans and Buttons are different men with different careers, but they're both totally stoked by surfing. Hans told me that Buttons would have surely won a world title, if he'd steered clear of the party scene, while of Tony's painting, Buttons had this to say:

"If that's the last tree on earth I'd feel very sad - but I'd get some seeds to plant some more. I'd plant them around the world. I'd tell everyone around the world to plant more seeds. We need more trees."

Lastly, I got in at a lumpy Kuilima Point late in the afternoon but I wasn't in the right frame of mind. I kept wishing that my son Harry was here with me, and that we were surfing the point together. Or maybe that Aerial Attack was in the water, or others from the Sennen crew. It's a neck thing. Surfing alone with the pyschological weight of a dodgy neck takes its toll. Then again, this being a small old world, I chatted to Brent from Hans' surf school post-poor-surf. Turns out he's from Oz and knows Eugene Tollemache, who is, of course, based in Cornwall. I haven't met Eugene but if memory serves he broke his neck a few years ago and returned to charge after a year out of the water. As Brent put it: "You're out there, you got out the back, you're still going - you just gotta keep going."

On Oahu: to Waikiki

No visit to Oahu can pass without checking out the iconic beach that is Waikiki. Once there, a visit to the fascinating Bishop Museum completed en route, Duke's statue loomed large but the surf didn't. Ideal for a man with a dodgy neck, you might think, and so did I, swiftly procuring a 10ft log and striding fearlessly into the ocean. At Canoes, the first break I tried, it was super-crowded and very mellow. Every now and then a half-decent 1ft wave would roll through but in truth there wasn't a lot going on. I therefore paddled over to Pops (Populars), where there was clearly a bit more of a wave. I had a few rides but the board I'd hired really was a log and moving it about with any degree of fluency pretty much eluded me. This was a trim city surf session, but nice all the same.

Today I spent the morning chatting to Dave Rastovich and his girlfriend Lauren Hill. Great people, both. Made it to Haleweia later (after some top nosh at the Pupukea Grill) and there was Buttons on the beach, offering surf lessons. This and any number of other sightings of world class and legendary surfers on the North Shore confirmed a thought: it's like going down to your local park and finding David Beckham there, giving tips on perfect inswinging free kicks.

Talking of football, I was highly stoked to see evidence of QPR at Waikiki (pictured, below).

PS: Tony's painting will be off on its travels again tomorrow. And if you're wondering why there are no pictures of surf, it's because I'm using a camera phone - it just doesn't do it justice. Below, though, is the view from my hotel window. Kuilima Point has been fair-sized but messed up these past two days; the pic was taken on Day Two.

To the Big Island

A short note, this, to record the fact that today was spent over on The Big Island interviewing Shane Dorian. What a gent he proved to be, generous with his time, articulate, interesting and thoughtful. He has a lovely family and beautiful home, and meeting him was a privilege. Look out for Huck magazine in due course, where my interview with Shane will appear.

Shane checked out Tony Plant's wandering sketch of The Last Tree On Earth. His response was at once to find a copy of The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I hadn't read this children's fable before but it's moving and provocative. In fact, I felt like shedding a tear when I turned the final page. As Shane said: "It's the saddest story on earth."

On Oahu: By Bike to Sunset, Pipe and Waimea, and back for Simon Anderson

Warning: being in paradise can be tiring.

There's just so much to do - maybe all the more so if you're a surfer and you've reached the ripe old of age of 45 before getting to the North Shore. Yesterday was exhausting, today's been pretty full on too.

After surfing Kuilima Point in the morning I hired a bike from the Hele Huli adventure centre here at the Turtle Bay Resort. This was by far the healthiest and cheapest option for my mission: to check out each of Sunset, Pipe and Waimea. I'd also cunningly worked out that if the North Shore is scary when it comes to surfing, it's benign on the cycling front: everywhere is flat. Car hire be damned; two wheels would do for me.

First stop, Sunset. The surf was about head high and just as I parked my bike Sunny Sennen Garcia walked by. "Hello, Mr Garcia, remember me from Thurso? My local surf break is the same name as your middle name." That's what I should have said but instead, like a starstruck fool, I shuffled about and gazed out to sea, trying to look as if, for me, paddling out at Sunset was something I was really quite capable of and looking forward to doing. Actually, I did quite fancy it, but unlike the dudes round here I haven't mastered the knack of cycling about with a board under my arm. I suspect this is a shortboard thing in any event.

Boardless, I set off. Next stop - having checked out the Sunset Beach school and concluded that if you're lucky enough to be educated here, you are very blessed indeed - Pipeline, but not for long. I figured that I'd try and find Dave Rastovich on the return from Waimea, it being a 100% certainty that he would not be sitting about in his beachside house, however nice it was (and it's very nice), given the surf on offer. So I eschewed lingering at Pipe and moved on, a hamburger at Ted's Bakery duly consumed first.

Waimea Bay was flat and breathtaking. For so many years I've seen surf mag images of giant waves here; as such, my knowledge of the place was entirely turquoise. However, it's at the end of a lush river valley and has to be one of the most scenic beaches I've ever encountered. Despite the calm sea, I thought twice before going for a swim - isn't it the case that here, a rogue 15ft wave can appear from nowhere? Er, maybe. But not yesterday afternoon. I had a fine and peaceful swim, the only drama in which was the acquisition of masses of sand in my boardshorts from the shorebreak.

Time for the return leg. Rasta wasn't in but Off The Wall was clean and decent. Pipe was small - the left was occasionally lighting up but Backdor seemed the better option. I sat on the beach and marvelled for a couple of hours. The scene before me was amazing - and it wasn't even big. The occasionaly nearly double-overhead set (on the face) would come through but for most part it was head high. Solid, though, and rammed. Airs and barrels were ten a penny, so too snappers on the beach. For me, being d'un certain age and of dubious medical condition, the most heartening sight was a slightly overweight bloke in his 40s riding a longboard at Pipe. Respect.

Stoked again, I cycled back and returned my bike to Mark and Krystal at the Hele Huni centre. If you ever come here and have some non-surfing downtime, hiring a bike from them makes for a good day out. Back at the hotel, it transpired that there was a good evening out to be had at the newly opened Surfers' Bar at the Turtle Bay. There Simon Anderson gave a talk by way of publicising his book Thrust. Simon is, of course, a former Pipe Master and the inventer of the thruster, something for which all surfers are indebted. He was an entertaining speaker and bore no grudges about not having ever patented his invention: "Design wisdom can't flourish if someone 'tries' to own an idea", was his view, something which IP lawyers would counter by suggesting that we all go round entering into Non-Disclosure Agreements (NDAs for short) before even letting anyone know about an idea, a sensible enough conceit if law is your thing but one that doesn't go all that far in the world of riding waves.

I said hi to Simon after his talk and asked if he'd like to come up with an amazing surfing story for my book, but I have a feeling he thought I was trying to ride on the back of Thrust. This, too, is a curious conceit, one not without its ironies, and I'll leave it there, save to say that if you chance upon this, Simon, my intentions are honourable.

Knackered, I slept soundly and awoke to a quieter Kuilima Point. Hours of admin followed to sort out hire car and a flight to the Big Island tomorrow morning, for it is there that I'll be interviewing Shane Dorian for Huck magazine. Needless to say, the Point got better and better as the day went on. I'd arranged a trip to nearby and exquisite Kalema Bay for the afternoon, there was no ducking out of it and it had to be done (complete with interesting views en route), and by the time I got back, in time for a surf, the North Shore was looking rather more sizeable and definitely unappealing for anyone with a dodgy neck.

There was nothing for it but to sip a Pina Colada and reflect upon Andy Martin's contention that Hawaiian surf is better than the UK's. Could there be something in this?

On Oahu: Kuilima Point

Here's a shot of Kuilima Point, courtesy not of a pro surf snapper but my phone. This is a lovely wave, a peeling right-hander with an easy paddle out and today, given the head high+-on-the-sets-size, a low-ish crowd count - I think the surf school took novices somewhere else. I enjoyed myself though undoubtedly had the lowest wave count of anyone in the water. My total of three waves, only one of which was ridden tolerably well, would not impress any rogue ASP judges who happened to wander by, but surfing, more than anything else I know in life, is relative. For me, to be in the water on the North Shore, snagging a few modest waves, is enough to keep me stoked for days. And who knows - if the surf stays reasonably mellow, I might even be confident enough not to hang about on the shoulder by the end of this trip and take the drop on the peak (around the right and out of picture below), heedless of the rocks awaiting if it goes awry... We shall see. Meantime, aloha.

Nice surf at Kuilima Point. Waves bigger than yesterday, easily overhead on the peak, so took it easy (as is the way) but had one really good right, this time on a 9"6'. Off on a bike ride shortly, down to Sunset and Pipe. Aloha!

On Oahu: A Painting on a Journey

It's not just me who's here on Oahu. Before I left Cornwall I met up with Tony Plant, he of SurfTwisted fame. Tony is working on a new project, one inspired by a surf trip to the Mentawai Islands earlier this year. He was with Russell Winter, Nigel Semmens, Spencer Hargreaves, Timmy Boydell, Taz Knight and Tom Good, shooting the action as he is wont to do.

At the end of the day's shooting, Tony would jump off the boat used by the crew and paddle ashore. He'd then paint. For those unacquainted with Tony's work, that means painting shells, rocks, stones - the substance of the island, using bio-degradeable paint to create art of complete evanescence and great beauty. He did this along the chain of islands, and each time brought a selection of damaged wood back onboard. Why damaged? Because the Japanese tsunami had only recently been in the area, wreacking havoc. Numerous islands were smashed, coral heads strewn, trees snapped: the wood Tony was hauling back to the boat was tsunami-damaged wood.

Tony being Tony, he hauled some of the wood all the way back to the UK. Back in Newquay he started pondering tsunami-ravaged landscapes that he'd seen. As he put it, when we met before I flew over to Honolulu: "The single most striking images that burnt into my head have been the surviving trees, often emphasised by the spaces left behind by the vanished trees. It seemed to me that as well as being indicators of what had happened, they were witnesses too, a measure or a gauge."

Tony then conceived a series of paintings themed along the idea of 'the last tree on earth'. What would it mean, to be confronted by this tree? How would viewers respond? Would the response be universal? Would it prompt deep and primeval emotions, if represented in a series of artworks?

Moreover, what if the paintings went on a journey, just as Tony did, as the wood he collected did, as surfers all around the world do all the time, whether riding a single pulse of energy during a daily surf or travelling the world in search of surfing nirvana?

And so one of the sketches for Tony's series finds itself here on the North Shore. Yesterday it was seen first by Abigail Cruz, who works at Hans Hedemann's surf school and board hire place here at Turtle Bay. For Abigail, the painting "evoked a lot of feelings. I'm a country girl and I've always been surrounded by trees. I can't imagine a world without trees. If there was only one left, I'd want to help it stay alive."

Abigail told me this after I'd come from yesterday's jet-lagged, North-Shore-nervy surf. Later I found myself along the coast, at a house opposite Pipeline and Off the Wall. Iconic surf spots both, and small enough for me to contemplate paddling out, until I witnessed the ludicrously high standard of the groms in the water and thought: "Er, no, me and my dodgy neck will stick to cruising inelegantly about on a longboard somewhere else." But curiously, just as the first pulse of a new swell started to show (again vindicating my highly intelligent decision not to surf Pipe or anything like it), Dave Rastovich, with whom I was chatting thanks to Sam at Billabong, picked up Tony's painting, held it towards the ocean and said: "That's cool. Hey painting, say hi to Pipe! say hi to Off the Wall!"

That's it for now. I'm hoping to talk some more with Dave later today and this evening sees a talk by thruster-inventor Simon Anderson at the Turtle Bay. There's plenty to be stoked about. Just hope the neck holds up in the slightly bigger surf outside my window (sorry, I'm suspicious type and figure that the more times I mention the potential for disaster, the better my chances. It's a Seneca thing.).

On Oahu: Paradise Met and A Wave Ridden

At last, about 30 years after I first became aware of the surfing mecca that is Oahu's North Shore, I am here. Just. It's a long story and involves a sore knuckle, but suffice to say that I was the last person to board the flight out of Heathrow. My stress levels were still on the high side over 11 hours later, when I landed in LA, but I survived the great and desperately slow pleasure that is US immigration and managed not to miss the flight to Honolulu. Having landed and found my baggage I still didn't believe that I'd made it. The cab driver did his best to veer all over the road in a downpour to convince me that actually, I wouldn't, that the sidewalk in a crumpled heap of metal was the place for me, but today dawned and yes, I was here, in the Turtle Bay Resort, on the North Shore.

The first thing I did was stand on the balcony and check the surf. It wasn't epic, a la the Billabong Pipe Masters, but the point set up at Turtle Bay - known, I think, as Kuilima Point - was working. One guy was out, catching mellow-looking chest-to-shoulder high rights. Across the bay I could see a couple of other reefs that looked as if they might work. There was only one thing for it: hurry up, have some food, find a board and paddle out.

It turns out that the surf school and board rental at the Turtle Bay is run by a name to conjure with - Hans Hedemann. Those with decent memories and sound surfing knowledge will know that Hedemann, back in the day, won the Billabong Pro in Australia and the famed Gunston 500 in South Africa. He was also the first surfer to win back-to-back ASP World Tour events. He wasn't around when I pitched up, but the estimable Abigail Cruz sent me on my way with an 8"6'.

I confess to feeling nervous as I paddled out. The waves were no bigger than anything I regularly surf back in the UK but everyone keeps telling me that here on the North Shore they're three times as powerful. There's also the inconvenience of my dodgy neck. As regular readers will know, I find that having a metal cage holding one's cervical spine together is not a confidence-inducing factor when it comes to surfing. Actually, it doesn't really help anything, but never mind: with nerves jangling away I gingerly stepped over the rocks and into the (pleasingly warm) sea. The paddle out was fine but once in the line-up I discovered that I'd made a schoolboy error. The surf school was there too, with a couple of instructors shouting and pushing a collection of novice surfers into waves. Successfully, too - everyone was getting rides.

I'm not one for crowds at the best of times but I hung about on the shoulder rather as I did at Spot M recently, hoping that a set would swing wide for me. It didn't, so I paddled halfway across the bay and tried a couple of reefs where I'd earlier seen a solitary surfer. He was gone but so were the peeling peaks. I stuck around, paddled here, paddled there, locked into the quest to find my first North Shore wave. It wouldn't come. Off I went, back to the point.

The school was still out and so were a couple of pretty good stand-up paddleboarders. Again I slunk about on the shoulder and the usual thing happened: the longer I went without catching a wave, the more my confidence was shot to pieces. Having been in the water for some time by now my neck was also starting to feel achy, but just as I was wondering whether to call it a day (or rather, an 'acclimatisation paddle about') the school headed for the shore and I was left in the sea with just an Aussie shortboarder. Needless to say we went for the same wave, I didn't think he'd get it, he did but so did I, and yes, I got it and dropped in on him.

Good grief: my first ever wave on the North Shore and I'd managed to drop in on someone. 

Fortunately, the Aussie was a decent bloke and when I duly apologised he said he'd lost his balance on the take-off anyway. That wave of mine was nice and enjoyable, nothing special, nothing rad, but who cares - it was a wave, I was in the sea, in the warm sea in the paradise that is the North Shore of Oahu, all but two years to the day when my neck was operated on back at Derriford Hospital, when surfing again anywhere, let alone here, seemed highly unlikely.

Stoked? You bet. On my next wave I managed to tweak a thigh muscle, come off and lose a fin on the rocks, but no matter. I'd been up and riding, here in Oahu, after all these years and with a spinal condition that says I really shouldn't.

If I can do it, you can. Never give up. Tune in again soon for the story of how Tony Plant's painting met Abigail (as above) and Dave Rastovich.