Caught "Riding Giants" again on cable last night. The film, shot in 2004, is a fascinating look into the origins of surfing, the surfing culture, and more particularly the "big wave" riders of the sport. What is immediately apparent is that the popular surfer dude image is not what the sport is about, nor does it do justice to the guys who were there in the early days or the elite athletes who ride the big waves today. They're serious people because what they do involves living on a fine edge where the only thing that matters is the immediate here and now of what they're facing. That kind of living eliminates the minutiae that rules everyone that isn't them. Strong stuff. Great personalities including Greg Noll, the pioneer of the big wave riders who is funny as hell to listen to. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was someone's grumpy uncle. Then there's Jeff Clark who discovered Mavericks off of the Northern California coast and essentially surfed it alone for fifteen years before anyone else attempted it. But the guy who inspires absolute jaw dropping awe is this fellow, pictured at right: Laird Hamilton. Hamilton is recognized as the greatest of them all and developed the concept of "tow-in" surfing whereby he's jet skied to outer waves of 70 feet or so and rides them in a dance of death with the ocean--a great probability of death if he falls. He's a compelling character and is absolutely one of those guys who lives up to the billing of "larger than life." Catch it if you can. The film, that is. Leave the big waves to Hamilton and the other brave and lucky few.
4 comments:
Went to check him out on youtube. Several videos of his most impressive rides.
Damn.
"Riding Giants" and the guys profiled was as impressive to watch the second time as the first time I saw it. I can't think of another guy in sports who comes anywhere close to Hamilton when it comes to gonad size. It's like his stepfather says, "they gave him a third testicle when he was born." The only thing that really compares to these guys would be elite combat soldiers--Delta Force or other special ops folks who function at fitness and intensity levels that no one else can approach.
I cannot imagine doing what Hamilton, et al, do. And they are elite athletes, as you say.
One reason my friends and I stuck to the 3-4 waves of Galveston and Bolivar, besides not being competent enough to attempt anything much bigger, is because that actually did allow for a good bit of the "surfer dude" lifestyle.
Come to think of it, I gravitated to surfing for the weed and women as much as the waves, though I enjoyed that aspect, as well.
That's one of the real interesting things about the film. The first guys who descended on Oahu's north shore in the 50s lived a fairly bachelor existence--they surfed all day and slept in makeshift huts and scrounged for food; not real conducive to chicks. It was really in the 60s that the thing exploded and became a lifestyle, with the babes et al.
I never surfed but was amazed at the film. I would think that anyone who has surfed would become completely geeked watching it.
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