In the 1980s Foo established himself as one of the leading players among
In the 1980s, Foo established himself as one of the leading players among the growing number of big-wave specialist surfers who congregate on the North Shore of the Hawaiian island of Oahu. Eschewing the so-so surf of the professional circuit, these are the few who carve a career out of fooling with the colossal waves (20ft or higher) that loom out of the Pacific in winter Foo was a karate kid among heavyweight pugilists. He was articulate; he didn't take drugs; he wasn't a Vietnam vet.Maverick's had been monopolised by a lone surfer, Jeff Clark. Gradually, a few hardcore cold-water veterans from Santa Cruz and San Francisco drifted in. Then the Hawaiian crew decided they wanted a piece of the action. A few days before Christmas 1994, on the strength of a predicted giant swell, Foo and Ken Bradshaw - an old antagonist turned ally - drove down to Half Moon Bay and paddled out.The irony was that the wave wasn't all that big. Foo had a habit of wiping out in 30ft-plus waves and coming up smiling.
He must have been laughing as he took off on a mere 15-footer and then lost control. Video footage immortalises him at the moment when he is actually being dragged up the curtain, before being looped over, flung down and stomped on by the following waves. He was discovered two hours later, an instant legend, still leashed to his shattered board.Exactly what happened to Foo, and why, and how big-wave surfing has become such a huge force, is explained in Maverick's. Half slow-ticking thriller, half encyclopedia of extra-large waves, it documents the fantasies and facts with awesome precision I hate this book, because I wish I had written it myself. And its author appears to have attained total omniscience in his field.
The well-wrought text finds a visual echo in the lyrical, moody and terrifying stills of tiny men sticking themselves into the mouths of leviathans.In a sense, there is no mystery about why big-wave surfing has become so big. Maybe, as Buzzy Trent said, "a wave isn't measured in feet and inches - but in increments of fear" But size matters. I once witnessed 40-ft-plus liquid volcanoes erupting off the North Shore of Hawaii. The surf was so big they called off a big-wave contest supposed to be taking place in Waimea Bay.I saw Ken Bradshaw ride a wave on that day. It produced a photo (included here) that Bradshaw, none too modestly but without exaggeration, describes as "the shot of the millennium". Beyond Oahu, only three surfing sites seriously register on the scale: Maverick's stands apart from Jaws (Maui) and Todos Los Santos (off Baja California) by virtue of being colder, darker and even more dangerous.The only real mystery is why anyone should choose to put themselves in the way of these behemoths. Some say it is to get women; others, more monastically, to get away from women.