Do You Really Have To Standup To Surf?

Back in the late ‘90s, I regularly shared the lineup at my daily Central Coast California spot with an orca. I didn’t really think much of it at the time. It surfed well, was considerate, generally stayed out of the way of the rest of the surfers, and was usually out only on the bigger days when crowds weren’t as much of an issue.

Oh, right, you’re thinking about an orca orca right now. Like a living, breathing, sea mammal. Sorry, no. This was a surf kayak painted to look like an orca. The guy who rode it was good. Super friendly, easy to talk to, and never, ever got in the way. I still don’t really understand how he made it out on bigger days and how he survived getting tumbled and dragged toward shore by 10 feet of whitewater in the thing, but he did and was always smiling.

The orca would get in super early on these overhead refractory peaks bouncing off the flanks of Morro Rock , draw a football-field long bottom turn, crank a big turn off the top, then race the big warbly walls until I’d lose sight of him, heading somewhere for Cayucos.

This kayaker wasn’t alone, either. For what seems in the fog of memory like a solid decade or so, surf kayaks were fairly regular members of the lineup. Then, one day, they were just gone. I don’t know if I’ve seen another since the ‘90s, come to think of it. At least not in the Central and Northern California coasts I’ve always called home.

I thought about orca guy earlier this week while reading an article about Mikey February that kept referring to the twinnies and mid-lengths he swoops around on as alternative surf craft. And, if you do nothing but follow the world tour, sure, I guess he’s alternative. But, here’s the thing — everybody is riding twinnies now. Channel Islands is printing money selling mid-lengths. Want a Ryan Lovelace shape? Hope you have a year to wait and a couple thousand bucks.

Surfboards that we called alternative 10 or 15 years ago are pretty normal these days. But honest-to-god alternative crafts, like surf kayaks? They’re unicorns now.

But why? If we’ve embraced the non-thruster more and more as we edge into the mid-21st century, why are we still so reluctant to grab a kneeboard? A surf mat? It’s as if tens of thousands of surfers freed themselves from the chains of the high-performance shortboard but are still shackled to standing up on a surfboard as if it’s the only way to enjoy riding a wave.

A few years ago, I started kneeboarding this little 5’3” soft-top I have at hollow, fast left-handers I like to surf in the winter. Tired of trying to stuff my 6’2” inch frame into backside tubes in an awkward pig-dog crouch, I decided to cut out the middle man and just forget getting to my feet. A revelation. Riding waves on your knees is simply a different experience. Not better, just different. There’s an intimacy being so close to the wave. Facing directly forward is a trip. It’s also about a zillion times easier to get tubed. Steve Lis and George Greenough were right all along. Try it sometime.

But good luck buying a proper kneeboard. Australia has a dedicated community of kneelos, but in the U.S., not so much. They’re out there, of course, but deeply underground. Under-appreciated. Surely, that’s how they like it too.

It’s interesting that for as much as surf culture has tried to claim a kind of supreme individualism, and a don’t-tell-me-what-to-do vibe, it’s long held a kind of dictatorial surveillance over what people ride. For decades, it was shortboards and only shortboards. Then, logs had a resurgence, then fish, now mid-lengths and asyms, but still, one must rise to their feet to be a proper surfer.

I get it, though, I really do. As much as I enjoy kneeboarding on the surfboards I already own, I haven’t had the courage to buy an actual kneeboard. I can’t imagine buying a bodyboard. Old footage of surf skis looks cool (like surf kayaks, but even more surfboard-like). But even though I’m red-pilled into seeing beyond the standup surfboard, I’m still reluctant to fully embrace a kind of surfing that doesn’t require standing on a board. I haven’t reached that level of Jedi status yet.

For now, playing around on soft-tops occasionally remains a side hustle to my normal job of standing on a fiberglass surfboard, trying to do the same turns in the same places as every other surfer on earth. Someday though, I’ll cut the cord. Be free to ride however I want.

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