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chapter 51 “An Alternate Viewpoint” (1975) Kimo Hollinger 1939– In this article for Surfer magazine, Kimo Hollinger offered a dissenting opinion to the growing professionalization of the sport in the mid1970s . Hollinger’s nostalgic description of earning his place among a small cadre of big-wave surfers in 1958 contrasts strongly with his account of another day in 1975 when he was asked to leave the water because of a surf contest. As Hollinger protests the increasing commercialization of the sport and ensuing loss of individual freedom, he draws out a very personal connection to the ocean and the spirituality among those who dedicated their lives to big-wave surfing. pa r a d i s e , 1958: i wa s a f r e s h m a n at the University of Hawaii. I was finished for the day, and was on my way home. My car radio was on, the usual mixture of music and news, when the announcer mentioned that giant surf was at that moment hitting the north and west shores of the island. The mood I was in immediately transformed from lethargy to agitation. I made it home as fast as I could, loaded my board on the car, convinced my parents that this was something they couldn’t miss, and headed for Makaha. Once we made it through the cane fields and could see the ocean, I knew that this was surf like I had never seen before in my life. The ehukai (sea mist) was so heavy in the air that my mother was positive it was coral dust from some road construction. We were coming through Waianae town when I noticed Buzzy Trent’s car at the local market. We pulled in and I found Buzzy, still with his wet sprint shorts on, buying some groceries . I said, “God, Buzzy, don’t tell me you guys rode that shit.” He tried to appear as nonchalant as possible, and said, “Yeah, we got a few waves.” I almost collapsed. We arrived at Makaha and it was awesome. Nobody was out, it was getting late, my mother was screaming at me, “You’re not going out, you’re not going out.” I didn’t. 208 That night, I called Paul (Gebauer) and made plans for the next day. We got there early in the morning. It didn’t look as big; yet, as we were taking our boards off the car, Ethel and Joe (Kukea) tried to warn us that perhaps it was too dangerous for us. (Paul was still in high school at the time.) Paul kind of looked at them, and we hit it. We weren’t halfway out when a giant set came through. It closed off the whole Makaha Bay. It was like we were at some spot we had never surfed before. All the breaks and lineups that we were accustomed to didn’t exist. The white water had dissipated most of its power by the time it reached us, and we were able to roll it; but still, I wanted out. I’m sure that had I been alone, I would have gone in but I didn’t want to lose face with Paul. Perhaps it was the same with him. When we finally made it to the lineup, I couldn’t believe how far out we were. Makaha Point was someplace way inside, where normally it was outside or even with you. Buzzy, who was already out, screamed at me to stay away from him (I was on a 9’2’’ semi-pig Velzy). The rest of the crew, George (Downing), Wally (Froiseth), Pat (Curren), Charley (Reimers), and John (Serverson), simply ignored us. I positioned myself on the shoulder, took a deep breath, and waited. The waves came. We scratched for the horizon, and something I’ve always had took over. It’s like the bell had rung, the butterflies were gone; it was survival. How was I to outwit these awesome waves and these six or seven guys who wanted to ride them as much as I did. I took off in front of George and Wally. Unlike North Shore waves, it’s possible to ride high at Makaha. I made a turn, and for the first time in my years of surfing experience, my knees dragged in the wave. Then it was down, down, down like it would never end. My heart was in my throat. I can’t remember if Wally was talking...

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