Surfing without attitude

Today I surfed for the first time at a not at all secret break, 1st Street in Virginia Beach. I made the right call: for the weather, the conditions, the tide. I've never been there before in my life, and my observations are based on this one, sunny, 90 degree afternoon with nice little one foot waves, and are not scientific.

Basically, I had a great time, and it was so different from New York. Yeah, it was crowded, but not much more or less so than home. There were more young kids and it was much more male; I was literally floating in a sea of testosterone. (Only three other women out in three hours, and they were all twenty-somethings or younger.) Much like at home, I could soon identify the men who ruled, or thought they ruled, the waves. Like at home, they seemed, at least at first, to cluster closest to the jetty. There was even one who was quite vocal about his pleasure at getting rides, much like C. And like every surf spot I've ever been to, there were the requisite Grampses (my word for generally mellow old men surfers...inevitably longboarders). There is no female counterpart to Grampses that I have ever seen...but there is always one or more Gramps.

Much whiter, blonder crowd than I'm used to.

The big difference here: although it was crowded, there was absolutely no attitude. No stinkeye that I could detect, as a woman coming out of nowhere and inserting herself into a probably largely local crowd. No bad vibes. No particularly good ones either, but OK. And none of the territorialism/localism/hostility I thought defined surfing. No lineup. No jockeying for priority. People were taking off three or four to the same wave (I've got photos to prove it), and it was OK. No yelling or pushing people off waves. No altercations. I did see several near collisions and at least one collision, but even then it didn't seem there were words. At home, there might have been fistfights. Everyone who took off on the same wave seemed to sort themselves out. Even me.

At one point one of the young boy surfers said of one of the men I had identified as a dominant local: "That guy will run right over you and not even say he's sorry." That was the closest I got to feeling like I was at home.

I baptized this spot by getting about six good rides. So much so that the Grampses on the beach (why do these types always gravitate to me so naturally? I seem to be a Gramps magnet) said: "Looking good!"

This was a setup much like at home, with a jetty and people clustering out from there with the best surfers nearest the rocks. I just naturally set myself up as I would have at home, at a distance from the rocks. And then I thought: well, this isn't home, why should I assume it's the same? What's the harm in getting closer to the jetty and if anyone says anything, just acting all ignorant? So I moved on down closer, where I thought the waves were better, as at home. No one said anything. But as at home, here every time I was poised to take off on a good wave, one of the presumably local good surfers was already on it, and even though I could have taken off next to him---like I said, everyone was doing that---I was sufficiently conditioned by my home break, and sufficiently intimidated, not to try it. I could have, and wouldn't have been yelled at; but maybe I'm still not confident enough of my ability to control my board to do that. Maybe I shouldn't have, maybe I should. But I didn't.

The crowds either got worse or seemed worse the last hour of the session, so that I didn't get any waves. Even though there was no hostility or attitude, I just got tired of dodging people and was too tired to have the moxie to take off next to them. I also noticed, to my discouragement, that I am still dragging my left foot on the board rather than popping up; the spot where I had a sore that took so long to heal was scraped up again.

Can you really have a surf spot without (so much) machismo, territoriality, competitiveness and attitude? I had thought all that shit was just part of surf culture. Maybe in Hawaii and California and New York City. But hell, this is the South.

All in all, it was a wonderful day.