Hainan Surf Blog

(Steve's Birthday)  After crowding into a small van, the five of us plus driver set out in search of better waves than we’d been afforded at our local beach in Dadonghai.  It had been flat for about 5 weeks, except for a few random days where the desperate surfer could scratch out a few ripples on a longboard, but our shortboards were gathering dust and our thirst for some real waves was intense.

I had never seen the target location before, and brought 2 boards to accommodate a variety of conditions, as did Brendan; Darci had a 9’ mal, and Steve conservatively brought a thick fishy shorty.  Harry rode the spare and had his first day in the water on a surfboard.

After what seemed like a very long hour’s drive, we arrived at the first spot; the most southern of the spots lining Shimei Bay on the East Coast of Hainan.  The roads off the main highway look like they were formed by pouring concrete out of a moving cement truck and the rolling it right into the ground: forget potholes- the driver was dodging manholes in the street while trying to stay out of the way of oncoming motorbikes (the manhole covers get stolen and melted down for their raw metal).

When we pulled into the parking lot we saw what looked like small but promising surf.  The sets looked well shaped and perhaps 3-4 foot outside with an slight offshore wind that was holding the faces of the waves up into steep takeoffs to smooth peeling shoulders.  As we clambered out of the van, a freshly caught manta ray of some kind was laying to the side of the path leading down to the beach.  Its lengthy tail had been cut off and gruesomely strung between its gills as to allow it to be hauled up out of the sand.  Still wet, with fresh blood smattered on its face and body, it was somewhat of a mystery to us as to why this placid beautiful creature had ended up in this predicament (we later learned that the local fishermen who’d caught him had to go get help to hoist the catch to the market).

Brendan quickly suited up and ran down into the surf.  I’d heard a loud ‘pop’-‘pop’-‘pop’ sound coming from the beach as we were changing, and had dismissed it as just fireworks, which are very common in China and especially prevalent in beach areas.  With Moon Cake Festival in a few days, I expected this sound to be some kids lighting off rather small fireworks in the sand, and was surprised to see a police officer on the beach yelling at Brendan from the shore while he coyly assumed to not understand the policeman’s warnings.  He was pointing down the beach towards where the sound was coming from, and it only took a second to put the scene together: about 100 yards down the beach a line of 5 uniformed men were pointing their guns out in the direction of the waves and taking shooting practice at targets perched at the edge of the shoreline- right in the direction of where we planned to surf!

We waved Brendan in and resolved to check a few spots a little ways up the coast and to come back later, when the police were done, if we couldn’t score anything.  After scoping out a few more spots, we decided to return to the first spot, which was taking references such as “rifles”, “firing squads”, and “targets”.

We returned about an hour later and after trying the firing range spot for about 30 minutes, decided that we’d try a little ways down the beach, and after scouting the coastline for about a half-mile, settled on a spot that caught the swell and focused in on a shallow sandbar into a shapely little ‘A’-frame with steady little shoulders, some all the way to the beach.

The five of us surfed on and off for the rest of the afternoon, enjoyed a few beers on the sand and met the local landowner who owned the coconut farm that stretched from where we stood all the way to the dark green mountains that rose up at the far end of the valley like giant green curtains.  We all caught waves, and the video we caught from the beach shows how hard we were working to eek out rides out from the modest swell offering.  We lost track of time and had to cancel the beach soccer game we’d organized, but everyone seemed satisfied with the pleasure of being thoroughly fatigued from the daylong extended sessions, and I doubt we’d have had the strength to muster up much of a match by the time we arrived back at the Dadonghai crossroads (upon returning home I promptly resumed a nap I had initiated in the van).

What is good surf? Well, as far as the conditions go, I’ve certainly had countless days where the size, shape, consistency, length, and thrill of the ride registered on a completely different scale than this day: many that I cannot even distinguish from one to another: feeling of an accomplished mission, the piling out of a packed van with sandy wet surfboards, and the tired perma-grin on the stoked sun burnt faces of friends certainly qualifies in my book.  Here’s to a great surf day courtesy of Hainan.