Muy Mal

One of the striking features of the Australian surfing scene is the number of “older guys” surfing on shortboards. And surfing very well indeed. A very non scientific survey, my own, suggests there are less than 20% of the 40 – 60+ age group surfing on mals. Mal is short for Malibu, the type of boards the first Americans surfers to come to Australia brought in the 50s. What used to stand for surfboard now means longboard.

Part of the reason for the preponderance of short board riders is the level of fitness among the Australian surfing public and the amount of watertime the blokes around here are able to get. (I should note that my generalizations about “Australia” are really limited to the area around Yamba. Sydney could very well be completely different and due to population size, more indicative of Australia as a whole.) Like anywhere else, swells that produce world-class surf at the renown points and reefs never happen frequently enough. But here there are lots of beach breaks that even on 1- 2 ft days are better than any of the La Conchitas or Santa Claus Lanes of Santa Barbara. From what I can gather there is something to ride more often than not.

The archetype Aussie veteran is Bill; he is seventy-eight and surfs about a 6’8”. He does ok too. I wouldn’t say he’s doing backside laybacks in the barrel, as a matter of fact he would get more waves and surf more consistently if he gave himself a little more foam. But I don’t think that’s the point. He’s still riding a shortboard; he hasn’t gone to the dark side.

Now Bill is his own story, without going in to too much detail, he’s NOT the merry old guy with a twinkle in his eye. One day Kate and I watched Bill at Back Beach, trying to surf inconsistent lumpy waves. The waves had ok shape but the take off zone was elusive and unless you could paddle really fast, it often required a late start at the top of a mushy foam ball to get enough momentum to catch the wave. A longboard was the right tool for the job. Another surfer on a short board was doing a credible job of getting waves under the circumstances, but Bill was ceaselessly paddling for one after another with no luck. Finally Bill snagged one but his standup was slow and he lost momentum at the top. He made an ungainly drop, but the wave face passed him by. He spent the rest of the wave in the white water trying to catch up to the face.

Kate passed him coming in as she was going out.

“How was it out there?”

“Not that good, but you won’t have any problems on that big ol’ thing.”

Now Kate’s board is 7’10”, not exactly a tanker. But Bill was openly dismissive of Kate as some sort of cheater.

Indeed, that is the other reason for the lack of mals in the line-up. It’s not cool. And I don’t mean not cool as in “You look like a geek wearing saddle shoes”. I mean not cool as in dancing too close to someone else’s wife!

This was brought home to us, the other night when we had dinner at Fred’s house. Fred invited an Aussie couple, John and Athena to join us, both of whom surf. John just turned sixty but doesn’t look it and in the water, he completely dominates the point. He grew up competing in the Australian juniors against guys like Nat Young, and Wayne Lynch. His skill allows him to take off deeper than most of the people at The Point and consequently he gets most of the waves. Only one thing can threaten his position in the catbirds seat, someone on a mal. A lesser surfer on a mal can sit outside and be up and riding before John has a chance to paddle. So John doesn’t like mals. At all. And with a passion.

Of course, we didn’t know that.

I’m not sure how that conversation started, but I do remember trying to kick Kate’s leg underneath the table.

As you all know Kate, when confronted with injustice, is not one to sit on the sidelines. In this case the injustice was John’s assertion that if you surfed a mal, you shouldn’t surf the point. Besides the obvious self-interest, this raises the larger issue of how does a society, surfers; distribute a scarcity, world-class surf, in the most equitable way. Unfortunately, Fred’s dinner table and cocktails, did not lend itself to economic modeling. After a rather lively exchange, Fred and Chris manage to head off the conversation like they would some runaway horse, and we ended up having a fun evening, mals or no mals.

But what about the issue of how do you distribute the waves. John would say by ability, if you can sit the furthest out, you get the waves, and no crutches allowed. This argument is the favorite amongst those who can sit the furthest out. And it makes sense, in a world that prizes meritocracy. You earned it, you get it. Akin to ability, is the proposition that I was born here, so I can surf here, and I have enough friends here to make it stick.

These rationales are not mutually exclusive of course; they can, and usually are, blended to fit the flavor of the local and the locals. John had an interesting take. With great glee he confided with us his plan to write all the surf mags and blogs phony posts about rampant violence to outsiders who visit The Point. “We wouldn’t actually do it but we would make it sound like it was going on.” So it’s localism without the violence. Are the Nobel Peace Prize judges getting any of this?

Of course, time will eventually catch up to the alpha dogs, regardless of their skill level, fitness regime or fighting ablility. One would expect the noble thing would be to step away at the top of your game. Leave the top tier and surf breaks called “Old Man’s” or “Burger World”. But on a shortboard. And when they can’t surf a board shorter than seven feet, they take up lawn bowling. No retreat, no surrender, no mals. So far it doesn’t look like it is happening that way. Will John really give up his spot to the next generation without a fight? Or an equipment change? When does an adjustment to your board length cross over from fine-tuning your equipment, to giving yourself an advantage over the kid who keeps sitting outside you? “It’s not a mal, it just floats me better!” It’s a slippery slope till you are cross stepping to the nose.

Ps Two days after the dinner, I was out in the water and John paddled by. I said “Hi John”. He didn’t acknowledge my hello, I was on a mal.