What is hard-core surf travel today?

Ferral or futuristic?

As surfers, we often pride ourselves on our ability to manipulate our lives, and the lives of our loved ones, so that we can surf--and surf a lot. But these days everybody puts off their grandmothers' 90th birthday celebration for 3-foot surf. That does not impress. What impresses is stalking the formation of a large low pressure system in the Southern ocean, booking a flight to a little island you have been scouting, investigating, researching--and pouncing all over that swell like a coyote on a house cat. You hit, and you split.

In this scenario discovery, the first ideal, took place in the form of research. Patience, the second ideal from the 70s, took place while waiting for the right storm to develop on the weather charts. And secrecy, an ideal perhaps even more canonized today, may or may not happen, depending on the egos involved. A stark contrast to the hard-core surf travel of the 70s and 80s? Hardly. The three ideals all remain constant. They've just manifested themselves in different ways. Granted, this new manifestation, the hit and split, takes the trip out of the travel.

I mentioned this scenario to respected hard-core surf traveler Kevin Naughton the other day. He balked. "The travel is what makes it surf travel hard-core. The unknown factors," he explained. "Taxis, airports, villages, new cultures, who to bribe, who not to bribe--his is what makes surf travel hard-core."

Two surfers travel to Costa Rica. Surfer A takes a bus, a modest and uncomfortable mode of travel. It takes him three days. He arrives but doesn't know where to stay. Luckily a new swell is brewing. It could have just as easily been flat, for he had planned the dates of this trip months in advance. He hangs in a hammock for a month, cruising with the ebb and flow of the local culture. Surfer A is afforded quality introspective time to learn about himself through the lives and culture of the local people. It is in these fairly secluded regions, during days of wait, when the food del dia is white fish on toast, the same as it's been the past four weeks, and the local fisherman nod in approval as you paddle past, that you become enlightened, in some form or another. This is hard-core surf travel in its purest form. It is the reward beyond the 4-foot swell (which may or may not arrive). It is the reward of cultural adventure. The reward of knowing yourself in a deeper sense through the conquering of the unknown. And it is something no travel agent or forecasting website can guarantee.

Surfer B checks the internet, anticipates the arrival of the new south swell, and flies into Costa Rica. He then rents a 4x4 and arrives at Tamarindo in time to board an awaiting, pre-arranged boat trip to surf a relatively unknown (and perfect) point.

Surfer B has orchestrated his lifestyle around the hit and split. He'll be back home in four days, after the swell wanes, and in time to wade through the masses at Cottons, if he so chooses. Hard-core surf travel of the hit and split type. There was no discovery, no travel anxiety, no waiting, and one might argue, no adventure. Nevertheless, Surfer B scored. A surgical strike of the most precise nature--and certainly hard-core.

One might argue that because Surfer B dealt with relatively few unknowns, the trip was not difficult, and therefore not hard-core. I say bullocks. "Difficulty" is relative term.