The way the week panned out was perfect. Weather models called for a forty year storm with hopes of unprecedented wave heights. The opening ceremonies for the Eddie came on Thursday night, December 4th. By Sunday, the ocean grew restless. Ian, Jenn Marr, Sees, and myself paddled out to Puaena Point at 4:30 and the shifting had already begun. The point was confused. The mixing of swells and the sucking current gave us high hopes for the next few days. Ian and I had a vision before leaving town on Sunday afternoon. We were going to see the Eddie and we were going to see it from the sickest spot the bay could offer. That was our goal. That was our vision. And ladies and gentlemen .....
We didn't score the spot of our dreams on Sunday night. Waimea Bay has about ten plush parking spots that hand over the best birdseye view you can get. The big waves were coming overnight and George Downing, director of the contest and master swell chart
reader, was calling it a fifty percent chance for a Monday morning go, with a greater chance on Tuesday. Ian and I settled for a spot at Three Tables, just north of the bay. We came prepared. A memory foam for the van's bed, four pillows, a sheet and my favorite blanket, a cooler full of rations ranging from marinated chicken breasts to Frosted Flakes and milk, a thirty pack of Coor's Light and our favorite Peppridge Farms Brussel Cookies. The dogs had their own bag; plenty of food, special water dishes, the Chuckit, Lea's Dogtra collar and a lead for constrained roaming. We got kicked out of our spot at midnight due to park hours and rowdy neighbors, and ended up moving just across the street. Mad amounts of people were already hoarding the bike path and the dogs went wild all night. At 6:30am with the noise of the waves pounding the s
hore, I reached for my phone and called Jenn Marr with the last of the battery remaining. Jenn Marr. Our inside source. Jenn was on the pro-women's bodyboard tour for many years and has an extended history with the surf community on the North Shore. Her baby's daddy is Marvin Foster, a notorious big wave surfer from the 80's with a longtime reputation in the country. She knows all the boys like her brothers and has a direct line to the lifeguard tower at Pipeline. And today, because she was working the event, a direct line to the tower at Waimea. "No go," she said. "Too stormy and too big. Not the right conditions. Eighty-percent chance tomorrow though." With that said, we emerged from the van into straight chaos. Since most of the island thought the contest would go on Monday, most of the island had already arrived. There were people everywhere. The bathrooms were out of toilet paper by nine, and we were left begging for tissue to strangers, in an effort to wipe our asses. Despite the contest not running, there were plenty of waves to be had. We watched from the beach for awhile, then from the cliff, and then headed up to the Pupukea heiau to have lunch and watch some more. When we'd had enough of big wave fun for the day, we drove to Kahuku for shrimp, then to Turtle Bay for a few cocktails and a cutthroat tournament with our friend, D-rock.
In the evening, we watched the waves some more. By then, it was breaking third or fourth reef Log Cabins. We were fortunate to watch the sunset from a beachfront house at Keiki that our friend Anna, manages as a vacation rental. Water was coming all the way up to the seawall and as Puna charged the beach, Anna reminded me of her near-death experience in that very spot, five years ago. In a similar size swell, Puna was almost swept to sea. As the water came rushing up to the wall that day, I grabbed Puna off the ground just as the beach filled with water to our waists. That same day, we watched a guy get ripped off the seawall and sucked down the beach. As we were calling 911, he made it out. Waves on the North Shore can take lives in an instant.
After sunset, we headed for the bay and low and behold, there was one spot open. SCORE. Celebratory beers and totally PSYCHED. We spent some time inching the van back and forth until we had a perfect view of the lineup from bed, then walked to Foodland for some more rations. We had much more sound sleep that night. No partyers. No streetlights. And the dogs didn't make a peep. Ian says it was the greatest night of sleep he's ever had in the van ... probably because deep down inside, even the ole' Volkswagon knew that it was the start of good things to come.
We awoke to the sound of stirring dogs. It was still dark. Ian opened the van door and before us appeared our roommates, Kitri and Mike. The dogs were happy to see them. They had coffee and musubi and posted up in the front seat. As the sun rose, the waves went from black to shadowy gray and the first surfers of the day, paddled out in thin light. We watched from bed. We watched dawn turn to morning and the waves get their blue. For a while, it didn't seem like it was going to be big enough. Again, we called Jenn and she told us that they'd call it after the free surf, around 7:30. We watched some more and kept our fingers crossed. Right at 7:30, the microphone from the bay rang loud and clear: "The Eddie is On!" Oh yeah! The cheers! I still get excited as I write this.
Right around 8am, a man with a camera approached the van. He was obviously digging on our setup (and he wasn't the first ... haha.) Then he announced that he was from the New York Tim
es and, "do you mind it I take your picture?" Well, no, DUH. Of course. We'd love it if you'd take our picture for the chance of making the New York Times. His name was Marco, he asked us a couple of questions, got our names and gave us his email. Well, guess who got their picture in the New York Times online edition the next day? That's right. We did. The link is at the end of this blog.
At 8am the Eddie was on. As the morning progressed, the waves got bigger, and by the final heat, the bay was on the cusp of closing out. We saw everything from gnarly drops to gnarly wipeouts to neck-breaking, closeout barrels. Sick, sick waves, people. Friends stopped by the van. My sister posted up on the roof. Chip came with sixty more Coor's Lights and three packages of hotdogs.
Ian calls it, "the van's greatest day." And really, it was. It was our vision. And damnit, it was perfect. And yes. Yes, I'm going to say it ....
It was all for the love of waves.
This is a special thanks to Jenn Marr, who graciously scored us a very hard-to-get 25th anniversary poster of the event, and who graciously interrupted Kelly Slater in the podium, (who was apparently in the podium because he didn't want to sign autographs), to autograph our poster just seconds before announcing the winner. I will never forget her waving that thing in the air yelling, "Hey Kelly, will you sign my friend's poster?" God, I love that girl. Other signatures were acquired in a team effort, but I will say, I scored Bruce Iron's. (Ian made me ask him) The poster is being framed with a copy of the Times picture below it.
Classic.
There are handfuls of special days in life where the events are so monumental, that you can remember the intricate details of each moment with the wreckless fondness of passionate love. This past weekend has shaped up to be just that. As the Eddie went, so did hearts of the island of Oahu, throbbing with the pulse of the tumultuous ocean as spectators lined the horseshoe bay to witness a historical day in surfing. The 25th annual Eddie Aikau was highly anticipated, highly publicized and in the end, a rivaled competition that came down to the last heat of the day. Chalk one up for Cali boy Greg Long who nixed out Kelly Slater by a mere ten points, to win the event in a stunning finish.
reader, was calling it a fifty percent chance for a Monday morning go, with a greater chance on Tuesday. Ian and I settled for a spot at Three Tables, just north of the bay. We came prepared. A memory foam for the van's bed, four pillows, a sheet and my favorite blanket, a cooler full of rations ranging from marinated chicken breasts to Frosted Flakes and milk, a thirty pack of Coor's Light and our favorite Peppridge Farms Brussel Cookies. The dogs had their own bag; plenty of food, special water dishes, the Chuckit, Lea's Dogtra collar and a lead for constrained roaming. We got kicked out of our spot at midnight due to park hours and rowdy neighbors, and ended up moving just across the street. Mad amounts of people were already hoarding the bike path and the dogs went wild all night. At 6:30am with the noise of the waves pounding the s
hore, I reached for my phone and called Jenn Marr with the last of the battery remaining. Jenn Marr. Our inside source. Jenn was on the pro-women's bodyboard tour for many years and has an extended history with the surf community on the North Shore. Her baby's daddy is Marvin Foster, a notorious big wave surfer from the 80's with a longtime reputation in the country. She knows all the boys like her brothers and has a direct line to the lifeguard tower at Pipeline. And today, because she was working the event, a direct line to the tower at Waimea. "No go," she said. "Too stormy and too big. Not the right conditions. Eighty-percent chance tomorrow though." With that said, we emerged from the van into straight chaos. Since most of the island thought the contest would go on Monday, most of the island had already arrived. There were people everywhere. The bathrooms were out of toilet paper by nine, and we were left begging for tissue to strangers, in an effort to wipe our asses. Despite the contest not running, there were plenty of waves to be had. We watched from the beach for awhile, then from the cliff, and then headed up to the Pupukea heiau to have lunch and watch some more. When we'd had enough of big wave fun for the day, we drove to Kahuku for shrimp, then to Turtle Bay for a few cocktails and a cutthroat tournament with our friend, D-rock. 
es and, "do you mind it I take your picture?" Well, no, DUH. Of course. We'd love it if you'd take our picture for the chance of making the New York Times. His name was Marco, he asked us a couple of questions, got our names and gave us his email. Well, guess who got their picture in the New York Times online edition the next day? That's right. We did. The link is at the end of this blog. 
