Rejuvenation in Fiji

Posted on December 6, 2009 by hollybeck27


I am alone.

Sailing on a gently swaying ship I sit with a smile on a bed just for me, looking through a sliding glass door that I can close to keep out the world. Granted, the world is nice here. I gaze through a lightly tinted floor to ceiling window at a textured royal blue ocean occasionally fringed with white as the rolls collide with boat hull or rocky outcropping, and a landscape of smoothly serrated lush green island that parades past unending. After only an hour atop the deck in the sun my shoulders carry the odd scent of sun-scorched flesh that tingles in the surprising coolness of the breezy shade.


this and the next two photos by Tim Burgess

We leapt in turns from the top deck of the boat at a height just enough to send a delicious spike of adrenaline flowing and plunged into the water submersing several body lengths below the surface, to re-immerge in laughter. Internally and externally rinsing the accustomed resigned monotony and grunge of long hours spent waiting and traveling. After a jolting cup of French-pressed caffeine, the collective realization and embracement of our new relaxed situation topped off with a gourmet lunch served outdoors beneath the sails, I retreat and slide my glass door shut, flopping onto the bed to let out the sigh that I’d been holding for days.



I had wanted to escape weeks ago. With four precious consecutive empty calendar days at my feet, I packed up my car with surfboard, skateboard, tent, firewood, books, notebook and pen, and started driving North, alone. Two hours in, my mission thwarted by a phone call from someone wanting something from me I felt obligated to give, I doubled back disappointed. Defeated. Denied. And the solo time my soul was craving vanished with no opportunity in sight for several whole calendar page flips.





The sudden unexpected situation in front of me is therefore even more delicately delicious than could be expected from a ten day surf-focused boat trip to the little explored Northern Fijian atolls with old and new friends. Having spent most of the last few months meeting and traveling with new people (mostly male), to embark on a journey with familiar interesting intelligent females is like a sweet dessert you didn’t realize you were craving until someone suggests you take a bite. The bonus surprise of a private room that I can escape to and relax is the chocolate sauce swirled on the plate.

Posted in Adventure Stories | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

Tubes and Tunnels

Posted on November 22, 2009 by hollybeck27
Posted in Surf Life Nicaragua, Videos | 2 Comments

The Guardian of the Bodega

Posted on November 7, 2009 by hollybeck27

Once again, it feels so good to be home. Back in California it’s easy to forget. I relax and appreciate the easy Internet access, running water, flushing toilet, smoothly paved skateboardable streets, and three grocery stores within walking distance. I start thinking that California is pretty nice, and maybe I don’t want to spend 100% of my time in Nicaragua after all.

And then I get back down here. I wake up before sunrise and light candles, make coffee, and sit on the porch with a view of the ocean with the dog while the sun rises over the volcano. Surfboard waxed and sunscreen applied, I carefully climb through strands of barbed wire to walk down a muddy road to a driftwood decorated beach and paddle out into bathwater warm hollow waves that I don’t have to fight over. This one’s mine and that one too, and I’ll take them both, thank you.

Waxing up in the casita. Don Emilio finally installed the shelves over the countertop!

I haven’t surfed enough lately and paddling feels a little awkward. My arms are weak, my timing just a little off, but I know that within a few days that will change. On my third wave I take off to the left, see the lump down the line that I know is gonna tube, and a smile overwhelms me as I pull in and reconnect. When the tide gets too low, I step to the sand invigorated. Feeling tired but alive. The first few pumps of that well only reinforce the feeling. It’s so good to be home and I don’t ever want to leave.

Ducha on the porch.

The back porch is filled with plants.


I was away for a little over two months and a few things have changed. The papaya tree has doubled in size as well as a few of the others. The garden is spotted with the colors of ripening chiles. The caretaker’s house is finished and Ducha the little dog that has stolen my heart is pregnant. She jumped and whimpered when she saw us and sniffed us and realized we were back. She remembered how to sit. She lays on the porch with a fat belly and swollen nipples looking uncomfortable and unhappy, but wags her tail whenever we come her way. I hope she will have her puppies in the next two weeks so that I’ll be here to see it.




We were sad to see Ducha so skinny despite her puppy-filled belly. Her hip bones and spine are way too noticeable so we are feeding her three times a day and hoping that she has plenty of sustenance to get her through giving birth. We were told the last time she had puppies that she nearly died.

The caretaker’s house.

The caretakers have hung their iron from the palapa and it just looks so cool and rustic.


I should probably be more afraid of snakes. Especially here in Central America, where snakes are plentiful and likely to be lurking in corners and under beds, waiting to strike, forcing you to make a quick decision as to whether or not the snake was harmless or if you have less than fifteen minutes to live, it’s probably wise to be wary. But just like sharks, snakes fascinate me. While digging around in la bodega Ryan constantly warns me to “watch out for snakes,” but I’m secretly hoping I’ll find one. The bodega rarely lets me down.

Yesterday afternoon I went looking for the yoga mat that I’m sure I left down here last time but somehow can’t seem to find. I figured I must have rolled it up and slid it behind the surfboards in the back corner. Ryan went in there first and was kneeling down to peer into the dark corner and suddenly jumped up and said, “well there’s a snake back there and it’s either really big or there might be two!”

“Where? I wanna see!”

I traded places with him and looked in between the tails of the stacked row of surfboards and saw the calico patterned scales of what looked to be a pretty solid snake.

“Epic! Look at that thing!’

“Not epic, what do we do with it?”

Ryan grabbed the blue and yellow umbrella that we got as a “free gift” when we bought the propane counter top stove, and used it to try to scare the snake out of the corner. Instead, the snake struck at the umbrella with menacing speed.


Plan B involved pulling out the surfboards one at a time so that the snake was more exposed. Once that was accomplished there was another moment of asking each other “now what?”




I had the shovel ready to strike back in case the snake decided to attack, while Ryan used the rake to scoop the snake out of the bodega and fling it in my direction. It landed in the grass a few feet away and started scurrying off. We didn’t really want to kill it in case it was a harmless snake, but also didn’t necessarily want to lose it in the weeds in case it was poisonous and would return for vengeance. I slapped the ground with the shovel and it slithered up into our biggest almond tree and stretched out along the lowest layer of branches. Once again, “now what?”

We wanted our caretaker Osmar to come by to identify the snake, but instead we saw a few of the local surf groms cruising along the road. We called them in to take a look. They were all pretty impressed by the snake. The youngest two immediately showed fear and said “one bite and you’re dead!” They jumped back and gave the snake in the tree plenty of room. The older two called it a Boa but still gave the snake plenty of respect. They took up the shovel and rake, with one swift swoop knocked it out of the tree, and then to everyone’s horror, Felipe reached down and expertly grabbed it just behind the head, lifting it up for all to see as the snake tried desperately to bite him.






Felipe assured us it isn’t dangerous and offered to let it go on the hill. He took off on his bike with the snake still in his hand. We figured he’d take it at least further down the road and out of sight, but only crossed the road, let it go, and then gave us a big smiling wave. Thanks a lot, Felipe!

When our caretaker Osmar finally did show up I told him about the snake and since it is the second one we’ve found in there, he just shrugged and said it was “la guardiana de la bodega,” the bodega’s guardian.

Posted in Surf Life Nicaragua | Leave a comment

Surfing in the Rain

Posted on November 3, 2009 by hollybeck27

Another excerpt from the novel I’m working on writing. Comments welcome!


It couldn’t start without coffee. Soothing dark brown richness. This and every morning’s first thought. Coffee coffee coffee! The silent symphonic thought mantra that leads me out of this warm familiar bed. Lately I’ve been rejoicing in simple pleasures. This bed that even after more than ten years still cradles me comfortably, even after numerous long months spent apart, often in longing. Strong coffee, readied in the machine the night before, begins brewing at the touch of a button. The bed has its way of rolling me to center and the coffee machine slowly leaks its daily pool of water onto the counter, but I know that about them and accept them for it. The flag out the window speaks to me in a coded language only I can decipher and the treetops echo a second opinion. The Internet is fast and always on, allowing the Santa Monica Bay buoy to offer its statements matter-of-factly. With each glorious sip of coffee the distinct elements of data are interwoven, wind speed and direction, swell height and period, producing an invaluable cheat sheet with which to approach the test of morning. Choose the correct board, get to the right spot, be in the water at sunrise for a rare opportunity to savor this world alone, if only for a few moments.

This morning the flag is screaming, the trees dancing their agreement, the buoy always sober, stately, even with good news, and while those things on another day might make for tongue burning coffee gulps, I’m slowly sipping, concurrently energized and relaxed by the loud rhythms of rain on a thin roof that tells me this morning there’s time.

Even so, excitement gets the best of me and just as it is light enough to see raindrops filling puddles through the window, I pull a thick but stretchy wetsuit from a hanger in the shower. It’s mostly dry from yesterday afternoon’s session. Warming it in front of the wall heater for a few moments, I slip in, one limb at a time, naked underneath. Then toes wriggle into booties that always remind me of Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle feet.

I feel like a ninja in my stretchy rubber suit, padded and protected from the reef, my board, the cold, even the sun. Some people hate wearing wetsuits but I don’t really mind. It eliminates the warm water hassles of head to toe sunscreen application and between duckdive bikini adjustments, and there have been plenty of times a wetsuit-padded sudden sharp impact with surfboard fins left only a colorful bruise instead of the need for stitches.

Stepping outside, surfboard under arm, leash coiled cleanly in hand, I skip down the wooden stairs taking two at a time, squeeze through the small space in the bamboo fence, and saunter down the alley stomping joyfully through ankle submerging puddles. Turning the corner onto the avenue I break into an even jog to more quickly cover the two blocks to the beach. The streets are empty. The café on the corner, quiet. The rain has slowed but the offshore wind is howling, trying to pry my board from me with insistent gusts. The first sight of the surf causes me to grip tighter and run faster. I let out a giddy laugh because there’s no one around to hear and the strong wind is making my usually dismal home beach look like somewhere worth traveling to. I hop a thigh-high wooden fence, slide with control about fifteen feet down a sandy slope then duck down to sneak through a hole that’s been cut in the chain-link fence before charging over the bike path to be finally slowed slightly by the soft sand. The rain is falling strongly again and it’s so delicious and energizing that I can slow down for a moment, take a look around to appreciate this place, this empty beach, the multitude of waves beckoning.

As soon as I hit the water the excitement dulls momentarily and I let out a yelp through clenched teeth. “Geez, it’s cold!” The hands complaining first, then the face and forehead as I duck under an approaching cascade of whitewater. The blood vessels in my head lock up and their excruciating whines stall me for a moment, but I push through the pain and the oncoming waves, helped by that offshore wind and this friendly riptide.

Finally outside, I’m still in awe of the shape of the waves. This beach is definitely not known for shape. It’s where I struggled to learn to surf on short powerful closeouts not well suited for learning. It’s where I spent so many hours dreaming of being somewhere else, somewhere imagined perfect and warm. Then, having traveled to nearly every surfing paradise on earth, spent more hours dreaming of the easy familiarity and appreciated imperfections of home. This morning, however, is one of those rare days where the imperfections are a little more subdued. The short period wind swell brought on by the closely passing storm, breaking up the normal long walls that fall all at once preventing any length of ride, into tapering peaks held up by the strength of the wind long enough to make space to ride inside them, sometimes even allowing a free exit from the tube.

I paddle for a few waves but am blinded by powerfully blown salt spray, preventing a clear look down the line and an accurate judgment of the probability of success. I finally commit blindly to a right with one extra paddle, pushing a little harder to get over the ledge, left hand on left rail, right leg in front bent at hip and knee, left foot placed perpendicular and firmly on the tail, right arm out, hand reading the face of the wave, crouched down low as the lip throws out overhead, enveloping me. I relax and enjoy the view, accustomed and loosely braced for the inevitable thump that comes when the wave runs its course and collapses onto the sandbar with me inside.

The body heat generated while paddling back out slowly warms the sand and cold water that has just been flushed inside my suit during the spin cycle. There’s hardly time to sit up and appreciate the previous ride before an approaching line of sky-reflecting cloudy dark water sends me paddling to the North. With no other surfers to contest me, I push up to my feet, this time facing the wall, left hand reaching, standing tall to enjoy the view of the sandy brown water rushing up and over again. The hole gets smaller and my body reacts in imitation, crouching lower, fingertips in the wave, but that wind is working it’s magic and the hole widens just enough to let me out before the walls come tumbling down.

“Woo-hoo! Did anyone see that?” A look up to the street reveals a lone white van, headlights on. Could be a friend, or just someone needing their own daily look at the ocean, the rain keeping them inside. Out in the water, only a seal for company. Swimming past probably on his way from King Harbor to the rocks of Palos Verdes, popping his head up to stare at me inquisitively. I, taking the time to return the look, to send him my good energy, give him a friendly hello and wish him well, nearly missing another good right coming my way. I take off deep and air-drop to the bottom, but set my rail just in time and it lets me inside again. The open hole with a view of the house-lined hill quickly fades to sand churned foam and I bounce, back first, onto the shallow sandbar.

No harm done besides a little runoff in the sinuses, more sand packed into the ears, and I paddle out thankful for all the mothers warning their kids not to surf after a heavy rain, the lazy community college kids still snoring in bed, and the cold liquid euphoria swirling beneath me and falling from above.

Suddenly, the horizon is looking less oily. There’s a wind line trying to creep around the peninsula and I know my time is limited. The cold is starting to win its hard fought battle with my wetsuit anyways, and I straighten out on a drop into a more expected closeout, and let the shorebreak chase me onto the sand. Walking home slowly, the streets are less empty now and I notice the eyes of drivers stopped at the crosswalk. Everyone reacting a little differently. There’s impatience, but I think I also see admiration. Incredulity and possibly even envy, as I strut through their morning commute smiling, soaking wet from rain and ocean, at eight am on a blustery Tuesday morning in January.


Posted in Words of a Wondering Wanderer | Tagged , , , | 22 Comments

Friends in town

Posted on November 2, 2009 by hollybeck27


I’ve been trying to keep it a secret. Ryan keeps reminding me to keep it mellow, but it’s hard to contain my enthusiasm. I found heaven and i’m the type that wants to share that with friends.
I’ve tried at least limit my stories to close friends, but the number of people i’ve told is growing. We have had a couple friends sneak down with us already, but in August that number went up exponentially.

It started with 15 year old Shelby Detmers. I had been coaching Shelby a bit and when I told her dad I wouldn’t be able to work with her for a few months since I’d be in Nicaragua, he suggested coming down to meet me. Perfect! She brought her friend Chloe Buckley.

Shelby Detmers, Chloe Buckley, and I

Shelby and Chloe getting to know Ducha on the porch

My favorite redheaded father/son surfing duo from Redondo Beach, Chad and Conor Beatty happened to pick the same week to cruise on down and check out why i’m not nearly as motivated to surf at home as I used to be.

Conor and Chad Beatty

Conor was excited to try out the machete

Kim Mayer is one of my favorite people on the planet. I spent the last three years traveling the world with her and now that we have both stopped competing I miss her all the time. I hadn’t seen her in way too long so she suggested coming down on a quick little warm water surf trip.

Kim Mayer lives in Santa Cruz, studies Permaculture, works on an organic farm, drinks coffee out of a glass jar, and is one of my favorite people on the planet.

She brought fellow UCSD graduate turned 2x mom and Santa Cruz surf photographer Nikki Brooks.

Nikki takes her job seriously.

Finally, I got a random email from Jessica Oswald who went to UCSC with Kim, and I had met back in the NSSA days saying that she and boyfriend were planning a trip to Nicaragua and were looking for advice.

Jessica Oswald moved to Wisconsin for med school, picked up wake surfing, and ended up with a boat sponsor and a national championship.

One of things I miss most about hanging out with Kim is the evening jam sessions.

Those crazy coincidences resulted in a very busy friend-filled week of surf in which I got very little done on the land, but was really happy to show my friends my new paradise.

Below is a little introductory story I wrote and some photos.
Enjoy…

I don’t miss surfing in contests. Ok, I’ll admit it, sometimes I do. But it certainly isn’t the memories of jersey-clad nervous paddle-outs into knee to waist high slop that get me feeling wistful. It’s the friends. After more than a decade spent traveling the coast of California and then the whole wide world to meet up with a collection of wild and crazy adventurous girls, it’s hard to readjust to “normal” life.
My hometown is awesome, but it’s cold, and while the waves do get hollow, 99% of the time they close out and send you tumbling into the sand split seconds after takeoff. I’m sure there are cool adventurous females around, but they are married with kids and jobs, or are still in high school. I often find myself hanging out with sixteen year olds, which has its upsides. Sixteen year olds are stoked. Sixteen year olds surf everyday and call to ask me if I’m going to surf even when it’s knee to waist high, sloppy, and impossibly closed-out. They ask me for tips on how to perform better while wearing jerseys. I do my best to give them advice, passing down wisdom and storied experience, and they pay me in copious amounts of contagiously optimistic positive energy.
Still, adjusting to “normal” life is awkward. Without a contest schedule dictating my plane ticket purchases, I get antsy after a month at home. Sure, the routines are nice. I don’t particularly like flying, and I am obsessed with shopping at Whole Foods. But after a few weeks have passed I start to twitch just a bit. I’m addicted to that feeling of new experience, of travel and adventure. So, I rounded up a mixed crew of longtime friends that I met while wearing jerseys that have since hung them up and gone on to new lives, and fired up young competitors only just beginning to figure out the world of organized surfing, for a quick little trip down to a beautiful beach in Central America, a warm water playa hermosa with plenty of hollow waves and good vibes.

Nothing like a sunrise surf in warm water with friends.

The porch was barely big enough to hold all the friends, but Ducha loved all the attention.

Jessica is from Hawaii and had to demonstrate her coconut opening skills.

Jessica’s boyfriend took a lonely ride down the beach.

Post-surf shady chill time.



Conor is a stud, even if he is too shy to admit it!
Conor and Chloe both were charging so hard their boards couldn’t keep up!


Adios amigas! Come back and visit soon!!!!
Posted in Surf Life Nicaragua | Leave a comment

Save the Waves Coalition

Posted on November 2, 2009 by hollybeck27

If you love waves and want to protect them, don’t worry you are not alone, and yes you can help. But first, a little back story-

Will Henry

Once upon a time there was a nice man named Will Henry who loved riding big waves and wasn’t afraid of a little cold water. He picked up on a secret tip from a friend who told of a magical place with big waves, cold water, and very few other surfers. Will bought a plane ticket, traveled across a continent and an ocean to an island many people have never heard of and found the rumors were true. He rode waves and fell madly in love, keeping the secret mostly to himself.
Of course, there’s no story without a good villain, a bad guy lurking behind the scenes, hatching evil plans to thwart our hero’s enjoyment. In this case (as in so many others) it’s a government in the black cape with sinister plans to construct a new coastal road complete with a seawall to protect it from the large waves, which would surely create backwash and alter the lineup. Will’s one true love was in danger, but what could he do?

Will went home and tried to get help from other organizations dedicated to these sorts of causes, but found no one to fight along with him. He was forced to form a brand new organization and Save the Waves was born. Tragically, he wasn’t in time to save his love from harm, but is now all the more determined to prevent the loss of another.

Save The Waves Coalition is a global nonprofit organization dedicated to protecting and preserving the coastal environment, with an emphasis on the surf zone, and educating the public about its value.

Of course, it all comes down to money. You can gather all the bearded tree-hugging hippies and Che Guevara t-shirt wearing college kids you can find to chant and sing and wave signs to no avail. But turn up with hard data assigning a dollar figure to a resource like a world-class wave, and you might start getting some attention. Which is exactly what Save the Waves and some partners have been doing.

One of the first studies focused on California’s big wave jewel, Mavericks. Rather than paraphrase, I’ll just cut and paste the press release right here:

Save The Waves Releases “Surfonomics” Study on Mavericks
Study concludes nearly $24 million per year in economic value at the fabled break

October 29, 2009, Half Moon Bay, CA – Save The Waves Coalition announced the preliminary results from its second “Surfonomics” study, a measure of the economic value of the world-famous big-wave break at Mavericks in Half Moon Bay, California. The study found that the surfing site and area has an estimated economic value to visitors of nearly $24 million per year, based on approximately 420,000 annual visitors.

“Mavericks is an iconic, world-renowned surf break that’s truly unique,” said Save The Waves executive director Dean LaTourrette. “This study provides evidence of not just its environmental value, but of its economic value as well. This further reinforces the notion that it and other special coastal areas around the world need and deserve to be protected.”

The study combined the economic value visitors place on the wave with intrinsic or cultural values of a coastal location with a world-class wave such as Mavericks. An important goal of the project was to build a model that can inform decision makers in coastal communities with important waves around the world. While prior studies of the value of waves have focused on the economic impacts of a contest or industry to local economies, this study looked at the benefits that surfing provides to surfers and observers by focusing on the value they place on the Mavericks wave through what they give up to experience it, as well as their qualitative comments.

The study, entitled “The Value of a Wave: An Analysis of the Mavericks Region,” was conducted by University of Hawaii Economic Research Organization, in partnership with the Center for Responsible Travel at Stanford University, under the guidance of Save The Waves Coalition. The study was made possible by a grant from the Morgan Family Foundation, and Mavericks Surf Ventures as well as contest sponsor Jim Beam helped promote and support the study.

The results come just in time for the 2009/2010 Mavericks Surf Contest® opening ceremonies, which will take place at 2:30pm on Friday, October 30, 2009 at Mavericks Beach followed by a reception at 4:30pm at nearby Oceano Hotel & Spa. Save The Waves will be on hand at the event with more detail about the study.

Summary of Key Findings:

1) The wave at Mavericks has an estimated minimum economic value to visitors of $23.9 million per year.1

2) The average visitor is willing to pay a minimum of $56.70 per trip to the Mavericks surf area.

3) Surfers visit the area nearly five times more often than non-surfers and thus accrue more value from the area.

4) The study did not include the Mavericks Surf Contest, which has drawn anywhere from 10,000 to 50,000 people to the area on contest day, and thus results in additional economic value to visitors each year.

5) Almost 90% of the respondents labeled surfing an ecotourism activity, and thus important to the cultural and environmental health of the community. Respondents believed that Mavericks helped to positively define the Half Moon Bay area.

1 Based on estimated visitation levels of 421,431 per year

It’s about the waves, but it’s also about the people.

And besides doing such great work to protect waves all over the world, the Save the Waves people also happen to be super cool to hang out with. We recently cruised down to Gaviotas for a weekend community building conference and scored perfect weather and pumping surf. Think these guys have good karma? 85 degree weather and overhead swell seem to prove they do!
Check out a few photos from the event. Photos by Sachi Cunningham.

Save the Waves Executive Director Dean LaTourrette

Having a beer with Save the Waves Environmental Director Josh Berry.

Sunset view with plenty of cold cervezas and new friends to get to know.

Did I mention the surf was pumping? By lunchtime on Saturday I’d already surfed for 5 hours, but seeing another perfect set had me fired back up again!

As Dean says, it’s all about building community. I was super excited to meet Kathleen Egan and Sachi Cunningham, two incredibly intelligent and inspiring ladies.

Morning coffee talk.

Josh Berry, the Environmental Director for Save the Waves got us all caught up with a few of the projects in the works, as well as representatives from Pro Peninsula and the Ensenada Chapter of the Surfrider Foundation.

After the serious business was finished there was the business of emptying the bottles of tequila and listening to this very important public service announcement on proper spanking technique put on by neighbors. Very educational.


Want to get involved????
Go to the Save the Waves website by clicking this link.
Become a fan of Save the Waves facebook
Hope to see you at the next event!

Posted in Giving Back | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Life after competitive surfing is a bit greener

Posted on October 27, 2009 by hollybeck27

http://www.youtube.com/v/fT6SIGqdnGY&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0xe1600f&color2=0xfebd01

This is home. No electricity, well-pumped water, plenty of hands-on chores to fill the time, a happy little dog, enough land for fruit trees and a vegetable garden, and my favorite surf spot in the world right out front. I can’t wait to get back home.

Posted in Surf Life Nicaragua, Videos | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Tow In Wipeout Tahiti circa 2000

Posted on October 24, 2009 by hollybeck27


I’m in the process of writing a book. I’ve been thinking about it for years, and finally started typing out the words, one story at a time. It’s fiction. Names, timing, and some details have been changed to protect the innocent (and not so innocent), but overall it is a relatively true account of the stories that have made me the person I am today.

In order to practice getting those stories out there, I figured I’d post a couple on this blog. Below you will find the story of my first tow-in session in Tahiti. From the photo shot by Jim Russi that became a two page spread in Surfer magazine and poster as an advertisement for my then sponsor OP, you can see that the story is true. Although, to make it fiction I have changed the names of the other characters. Comments welcome.

This morning’s orange soda feels like a bad idea and the water bottle at my lips isn’t soothing the boat bumping or my excessive internal carbonation. I’m trying to absorb the shock with my legs, ten tan toes spread wide on the white fiberglass floor. Elbows on knees, noting the scrapes and scuffs from the reef that pulled skin from my shins. Not as bad as Jaqui at least. We’re all wearing headphones. Each of us plugged into our own soundtrack for this ride through the most beautiful water I’ve ever seen. It’s ‘golden hour’ and John’s freaking that we’re missing it. The sun is adding gold to the green of the dramatic mountains behind us, and I don’t really want this ride to end.

The wind in my face warms as the boat slows and gives us a first look. There’s a big wave breaking fast. Without any reference, it’s hard to judge size, but it’s easily bigger than any other wave I’ve ever considered surfing. Teva is driving the ski with Kelia sitting behind him. They’ve been watching it for a while already. They see us and jet over. I’m trying to read her face but she’s already waxing her board. Chris asks if she wants to wear the lifevest, just in case, but she declines. John has already discouraged it. “Won’t look as good in the photos,” he said. I still haven’t made up my mind.

The biggest wave I’ve ever seen is exploding in front of us, sending an invisible wall of energy straight through me. I can do this. I’m scared, but I can do this. Kelia is up on her feet now, holding the rope. They’re circling outside, disappearing from our view as a wave stands up and folds over unto itself, reappearing, still circling, then disappearing again. A blue wave detonates into white. There’s another blue lump behind it and their circles have stopped. The ski is moving fast now from left to right. Kelia is about 15ft behind, holding the rope as the wave grows. It’s still a lump but it’s starting to feather at the top and she lets go of the rope, takes a quick pump for speed, leans down with her back to wave, looking ahead, right hand to outside rail, left arm straight in front as if reaching for an invisible line that will pull her through to safety. The wave starts to fold over her, I hear the rapid-fire clicking of John’s shutter, feel the collective intake of breath of Jaqui, Megan, and myself. The wave is pitching and she’s leaning forward, looking for more speed, I can’t quite see her face, but in slow motion I think I see her eyes, big, and then she’s gone. The wave turns white and there’s another behind it. We’re on our feet now, looking for a head to pop up through the soupy whiteness as the second wave detonates. Megan points and the ski darts in, but can’t get to her. We see her take a breath and her head go below just as an avalanche of saltwater steamrolls through. There’s another wave on her head before Teva picks her up. She climbs into the boat still coughing up water, big eyed, red faced, visibly shaking, she has just started telling the story in short bursts between breaths when someone says it’s my turn. I look at Jaqui and Megan and neither are volunteering. Chris asks if I want the vest and I don’t even think twice. Yes. I grab it and my 6’4”, attach the leash to my ankle, and step from the safety of the boat to the back of the ski. We ride to the outside during a lull and I tell Teva firmly, “I want a small one first”. He laughs as I jump off into the water and tells me to “get ready!”

I sink the board with my hands, balance on my feet while holding the handle of the rope as it goes taught and pulls me to a stand. We circle a few times, let a few lumps pass, and I’m trying not to think. I can do this. He turns back, says, “ok, this one,” and starts pulling faster. I see the lump and smile, maybe. It’s not that big. It’s ok. I can do this. The lump is getting steeper, it starts to break behind me, but ahead it’s a gentle blue slope, a sunny safe bunny hill. I let go of the rope and drop down easily, I can feel the power on my back but I’m safe. It drops me in the channel and there are cheers from the boat. I did it! A rush of energy tingles through me, and now I really want it. I want another one.

I grab the rope and Teva pulls me to the outside. We choose another lump and I let go a little earlier this time. The adrenaline is better than any I’ve had before. I’m in the channel again safely and both arms are up in the air as I yell at the sky. I want another. This time at the bottom, I look over my shoulder at the gaping hole behind me, a vortex of energy. It’s perfectly open. I want to be closer to that. And I don’t need this life vest. I haven’t fallen. I don’t want to be the only one wearing the stupid vest. I take it off and throw it into the boat. John smiles and gives me a thumbs up. The girls nod encouragement.

We head back outside and I tell Teva I want to get barreled. He says I need to let go of the rope a little earlier, do a deeper turn at the bottom to slow down, then pull up into it. Ok. I can do this. I can do this. There’s a lull and I sit back down on my board. It’s peaceful through my jittery excitement. The water is deep blue and calm. The mountains are a gorgeous lively green. The energy infuses me. I feel strong. Alive. I can do anything. I can definitely do this. This is my day. I’m about to get the wave of my life. There are photographers on the boat, my heroes watching. And Teva looks back and says, “get ready”.

I’m on my feet. We make a circle and I see the lump. It looks good. We’re in position, I’ve got plenty of speed and as the lump starts growing I let go a little earlier. The wave is steeper from back here but I get to the bottom and stall a little, draw out the turn, then point back up slightly, I bend my knees and lean forward into a crouch as the wave starts to fold. I’m connected to the blue on one side and a crystal clear blanket of water is up over my head, then falling onto the other side, until I can see the boat framed by an almond-shaped porthole. It’s the most amazing view I’ve ever had. A fantasy realized. Perfection. And then the hole closes and I’m underwater.

I pop right up and the ski picks me up immediately. No problem. I’m safe. That wasn’t bad at all. I can do this. I want another one. I want to make it. I need to see that view again! I tell this to Teva. He says the smaller ones are pinching. I need a bigger one if I want to make it. “Just do the same thing you just did, that was perfect,” he tells me, “we’ll wait for a bigger one now.” Ok, I can do this. I’m imagining the photos, the video, the high fives. I’m about to get spit out of the biggest tube I’ve ever seen in real life. I’m about to get a wave I’ve never even dreamed of. Teva is sitting side-saddle on the ski, relaxed. He’s lighting a joint. I can smell the sweet smoke and I wonder why he’s doing that now. And then suddenly, joint between lips, he turns and grabs the handles, says, “ok, get ready.”

I’m on my feet again and I’m looking at the lump approaching. Not just one this time, but four or five in a row. We start to circle and I figure we’re gonna wait for one of the last ones but he’s already turning and starting to pull in a straight line. He looks back and yells, “this one, go!” I’m looking at the lumps approaching. So much energy stacking, inevitably approaching. If I don’t make this one, I’m taking the rest on the head. If I don’t make it, it’s not going to be as easy. If I don’t make it….
I let go and drop down. It’s bigger than any of the ones before and I’m further back. I’m doing the same thing I did last time but this one isn’t the same. I get to the bottom, slow down a little, then pull back up and the whole ocean is bottoming out, rearing up, folding over me. The entire Pacific Ocean is swallowing me whole. I see the boat again in front of me, but it’s too far away. The wave is jacking and I’m inside the barrel of my life, but there seems to be a bend in the wall in front of me. If I don’t make it…. I panic. I freeze. I’m not thinking. A misguided instinct pushes me off my board and into the wave face. For a split second I’m motionless in soothing warm water. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet. I unreasonably think I’m safe. Then I’m being lifted up slightly, moving laterally maybe, and then falling, falling, falling. Falling for a really long time. Falling long enough to actually think, “wow, I’m still falling!”

I don’t remember the impact. I do remember feeling strangely calm. I was underwater, deep, spinning, but strangely relaxed. I wasn’t sure which way was up, but felt for my leash and then pulled myself along it, the buoyancy of my surfboard leading me up towards the surface. I broke through the foam and took a big breath, which somehow totally ended the relaxation. Maybe it wasn’t the breath but the next, bigger wave, breaking right in front of me. I looked for the ski. It was right there in the channel but that wave was surely on a path to get to me first. Teva yelled at me, “take off your leash and dive!” But, my leash was what brought me to the surface on the last one. I ignored his advice and dove. It hit me suddenly and spun me upside down, sideways, and in ways I can’t recall. I tried to relax, tried not to fight it. When the turbulence slowed I grabbed for my leash and climbed it to the surface again. By this time I was pushed a litter closer to the channel but there was another wave coming, Teva yelled again and this time I listened. I reached down, un-strapped my ankle and dove. When I came up, the ski was right there. He pulled me up behind him and I wrapped my arms around his broad back, shaking. “That was a good one huh? What happened?” he asked, laughing. We picked up my board and he dropped me in the boat.

Posted in Adventure Stories, Words of a Wondering Wanderer | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

Surf Stronger Fitness and Performance Camp

Posted on October 2, 2009 by hollybeck27

Remember camp? You went away for a little while, made new friends, hung out in a different part of the world, pretended to listen while the camp counselors made their little speeches, and totally exhausted yourself with all kinds of games, late night antics, and maybe even developed a crush on a fellow camper.

Those were the days, right? Too bad camp seems relegated for junior-highers only…..

Wrong!

The Surf Stronger Fitness and Performance Camp is an innovative fun-filled weekend where kids of drinking age can come together, make new friends, exhaust themselves, listen to camp counselors (although now they are called coaches) give speeches, and possibly develop a crush on a fellow camper (or even a coach).

There were bonfires, BBQs, plenty of alcoholic beverages, and enough Guayaki Yerba Mate to fuel a solid 48 hours of surfing, stand-up paddleboarding, yoga, TRXing, soft sand runs, buoy swims, video analyzing, and general good time having.

More seriously, the Surf Stronger Fitness and Performance camp is a way for surfers to get a chance to spend a weekend working on improving both their fitness and surfing ability.

I’ve said it before, and i’ll say it again…. I “heart” camp.

Surf Stronger coach Scott Adams psyching to start up the weekend.

The group getting to know eachother on day one.
Surf Stronger co-founder Todd Walsh with super bro Jason Leggitt.
Camp began with a light yoga workout.
Coaches Scott Adams and Holly Beck, talking strategy and goals for the weekend.
Jason Anderson and Jim Hernandez BBQd up some amazing organic pizzas. So good!

Team NY, getting to know eachother.
Bonfire surf stories

Coach HB, loosening up.
Scott led the crew in a pre-surf dynamic warmup.

As the crew hit the water, Scott manned the video camera to film the session.
Indy is a ski racer from Colorado who was excited to come out to California for a little cross training and to work on his surfing skills.
Indy, getting a few tips from coach.
Nick lives at Ocean Beach, San Francisco and wanted to work on his wave selection. Here he is selecting a nice one.
Brendan, working on his cross-step.
Crawford Pierce is Indy’s ski coach, who was stoked on the opportunity to be coached by the Surf Stronger team.
Holly, demonstrating the art of walking the nose.
Crawford and TW getting ready to do some stand-up paddleboarding.
Coach TW explains how to hold the paddle.
HB leading Nick into the shorebeak.


Coach Holly, demonstrating for the ladies.


Tom, loving it!
After a four hour surf session, a light lunch, the stand-up paddle board lesson, it was time for a killer 90 minute workout incorporating the TRX.
And finally, a little relaxation!

Team Colorado, stoked!
The coaching staff, all smiles.
Sunday morning pre-surf warmup.
Tom and Samara, sharing a moment.
Coach Scott took a break from the video camera to catch a few waves.

Samara would be napping right now if not for the delicious energy boost from Guayaki Yerba Mate.
Coach HB, surf satisfied.
Holly and Kristen, going over the results of the weekend and goals for next time.



Didn’t make it for this camp? Don’t worry, there will be more!
Check out the Surf Stronger website for updates or become a fan on facebook by clicking here: Surf Stronger fan page!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Looking back on a former world view

Posted on October 1, 2009 by hollybeck27

In the summer of 2000, I was in my second year of college at UCSD. I’d only been surfing about four years and it had already become the biggest thing in my life, and all-consuming passion that drove every decision. I was getting paid to surf, almost enough to live on. I’d won my first professional contest, starting traveling a bit to compete. I had sponsors, photos in magazines, and people wanting my autograph. It was all very new and exciting, trying to find my place within the pro surfing world that I desperately wanted to be a part of.

Somehow someone chose me to be the subject of an episode for Voice of America – a US run propaganda machine that pumps out human interest stories for the rest of the world to admire. A reporter with a camera followed me around for a couple of weeks and filmed my life. I had mostly forgotten about the whole experience until I came across the tape while cleaning out some old boxes of keepsakes. I imported it, added some of my own commentary, and uploaded to YouTube.

silly little me….

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