That Eddie would go was never seriously in doubt. After a night of clinging to the overturned hull of capsized voyaging canoe Hokule'a, ignored by close-passing ships and aircraft, flares sputtering futilely in the darkness, and islands growing smaller on the churning horizon, in the mid-morning of March 17, 1978, crewman Eddie Aikau insisted on paddling his surfboard for help.
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In 1978 I was a living, breathing affront to the work ethic. I was making some sort of a living as a freelance surf photographer and writer, but even that was little more than a cover for simply going surfing. The ratio of photography to wave riding, low at the best of times, was sinking as fast as my interest in the world of pro surfing. Somehow I just couldn't get with the program of increasing Coca-Cola's market share. ...
Introduction
The definition "to surf " has held meaning for people all over the world for many years. For some it is a competitive sport, for others a hobby, and for others a release; an enlightenment reached only by becoming one with their surfboard and the sloping plane of water gliding beneath them.
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I started surfing late, in 1957, which to a grem like me was an era of distinct hero figures. My two personal surf heroes were then and still are Mickey Munoz and Phil Edwards. Munoz for being the most stoked human I’ve ever met and an all-around master of the ocean arts. While Edwards, as a surfer, shaper and designer/builder of prototype sea-going hulls, has earned an eli ...
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