Surfing Is All About Location—But Don't Ask Me Where

I've never put much thought into how many different places I have surfed. I really don't have a number, but I have only surfed in two states, California and Hawaii. Although I've surfed at many locations along the coast of California, I'm a creature of habit and tend to go back to what I know.

When people discover that I surf, one of the first things they want to know is where I like to surf. Of course, I divulge this information without hesitation, but I am the exception, not the rule. There are plenty of surfers who would rather not name their favorite spot in an effort to keep out crowds. This is different than localism, or those who feel they own specific locations.

On one occasion in Hawaii on the island of Kauai, the person I was on vacation with learned firsthand that some surfing locations are for "locals only." He was hassled in the water and out. We left without incident, but it was unnerving.

Of course, this kind of behavior isn't isolated to one surf spot and Hawaii is by no means unusual. Southern California's coast has not been immune to certain threatening behaviors from territorial surfers.

There is a place that I surfed only a couple of times that happens to be one of my husband's favorite places. It's not a super secret location and if you don't mind hiking to it, it is open to the public.

My husband and I have been planning a day to go there for nearly two weeks. We have been looking forward to surfing together for the first time in eight years at our non-super secret location. I actually thought: Who needs date nights when we can have surf dates?

The plan was set. He had the day off from work and we had the kids taken care of for the day. The surf and weather conditions were forecasted to be ideal and I couldn't wait for the day to come. I looked forward to the long paddle out to the line-up. I couldn't wait to feel the morning sun warming my face and the fresh air filling my lungs. It was to be the perfect day; that is until I woke up.

My throat was on fire and my head was pounding. I was sick.

As I turned over, there was a little cherub face to greet me that had the agonizing look of how I felt.

"Good morning, Sweetie," I said. "Mommy, my throat hurts," my four-year-old responded before starting to cough.

And just like that our well laid-out plan was sidelined indefinitely.

My husband reported that the day was indeed beautiful and he caught several waves. The morning sun warmed his face and he got his fair share of fresh air. And he wished I were there.

Tori MacLennan is a lifelong South Bay resident, writer and surfer. To view her profile, click here.