Description in Experience

As humans we are uneasy with the unfamiliar.  We go about our days constantly trying to relate new ideas and experiences to old ones in an attempt to understand why we’re here.  I once heard a cup of coffee described as “liquid adrenaline that tastes like dirt.”  I heard a microbrew described as “a hopped up Natty Light,” and we all know the girl who “looks like Jessica Alba with a back like J-Lo but a grill like Flava-flav.”
You would think that surfers have escaped this stigma through our daily confrontation with the unknown.  Every time we step foot in the ocean, we’re faced with fluctuating tides, varying wind directions and speeds, and out-of-control inlanders who have made their weekend pilgrimage out from east county into the lineup with the specific purpose of running you over.  
I hate to say it, but a lot of the time surfers are the worst.  When trying to explain how the local grom surfs, it ends up sounding like, “He punts airs like a mini Taj Burrow, with the style and attitude of Bruce.”  And I can’t even count how many times I’ve heard of a travel destination described as, “What Hawaii was 50 years ago.”  Tired with familiarity and routine existence, Will Tant and I embarked on an expedition through the land of the rising sun.
After a few airplane transfers, about 15 hours of flying, and oddly enough not one sunset, we touched down in Narita airport.  We were lucky enough to bi-pass the worst part of a trip -- the hassle of a car rental and accommodation search.  Once we stepped foot outside of the terminal we were greeted by our guide Seiji, a knowledgeable local and fellow shred fiend.  He drove us to our home base in Chiba where we ate some food and crashed out.
Our first surf in Japan was mediocre to say the least. We were welcomed with gray skies and chest-high on-shore slop. Rows of jetties littered the beaches, extending into the ocean like the black keys on a piano. The whole ambiance of the situation felt like I was back in Oceanside surfing the harbor on a mid-June morning. The only difference was the creepy silence that blanketed the lineup.  For some reason, the locals would completely refrain from any type of verbal or emotional outbursts. Sitting amongst the crowd of local surfers during the lulls strongly resembled an elevator ride up a fifty-story building. Everyone sat perfectly still with their heads bowed and hands at their sides entirely content with avoiding any type of conversation. Only one day before this I was surfing Avalanche with heaps of frothing, foul-mouthed OB groms who I’m convinced prefer heckling to surfing.  The tranquility felt like a breath of fresh air.
We surfed the next few days in similar conditions and when the swell went flat we decided to squander a few days in the city.  Being in Tokyo is kind of like surfing Lowers, only without the waves. There are literally so many people there, you could walk around on the crowd and not touch the ground all day.
Back in Chiba, we were watching the nightly weather broadcast when we noticed three funneling blemishes off the southeast coast of Japan.  Over the next few days, the storms joined forces creating one giant Typhoon and began moving in the optimal swell-producing pattern.  Hesitant about where we should try to surf, we packed our car and headed north for the remainder of our trip with a few locals.  We made it to Fukushima after about five hours of driving, and decided to stay in a traditional Japanese hotel called a Minshuku.  In stark contrast to most hotels I’ve ever visited, Minshukus are a little more like college dorms with futons lining the floor instead of bunk beds.  I asked our host where the shower was and he pointed me down a long dark hallway.  I was shocked when I found out the whole hotel shared one community bath.  A little intimidated by the thought of a pool of naked Japanese men, I opted to rinse off in one of the miniature showers that lined the community bathroom.
We crossed our fingers while the typhoon passed just off the coast of Japan. The five of us sat trapped in one cramped room for three straight days as we waited for the weather to subside.  An onslaught of landslides, flash floods and ferocious winds literally made it impossible to go anywhere, let alone surf.  While Will and I killed the majority of the time reading books and sleeping, our photographer Wesley Scheler embraced his Oregonian, pseudo-hippie roots and took quite a liking to marinating in the Japanese community pee-pee bath.
Once the typhoon began moving back out to sea we drove down to the beach with low expectations and high hopes.  Nothing could have prepared me for what we saw.  Lines of double to triple overhead surf stacked out to the horizon.  The winds had shifted offshore and the clouds gave way to sunlit skies.  In a mad scramble Will and I ran back to the car and fumbled our way into our wetsuits.  We grabbed our step-up short boards and sprinted into the lineup as fast as possible.  The winds were gusting so strong offshore that in order to drop into the sets you had to close your eyes, throw your board under your feet, and hope you air-dropped to the bottom of the wave in one piece.
During the next few days the waves kept pumping and the conditions continued to improve.  This surreal occasion was distinctly different from anything I had ever experienced.  Sitting in the lineup, I took a moment to survey my surroundings.  Like clockwork, overhead flawless rights were funneling for hundreds of yards.  To the north, an assembly of cranes, tanks, and industrial structures encased in steel and wires appeared to be preparing themselves for World War III.  In the opposite direction a vast backdrop of rolling hills, rich soil, and lush pines were abundantly pouring into the oceans edge.  I sat there racking my brain, trying to come up with some sort of familiar comparison to feel comfortable with this dreamlike landscape.  Toying with the idea of Star Wars meets Big Sur meets J-Bay, I realized sometimes it’s better to call it like it is and let experience speak for itself.  Here we were, halfway across the globe scoring really good Japan.