THE ESM PHOTO BLOG: ICE ROAD TRUCKIN’ PART II Through The Pine Trees, Darkly... Words and photos by Dick “Mez” Meseroll
I have seen the dark and ugly side to the
surfing life we love — and I found it in a very beautiful place with some
really amazing setups for the extreme coldwater surfing enthusiast — in
the form of one contradictory human being who tried to rally an entire province
against us for doing the same thing he has done for years: photograph and
expose surfing in exotic, out-of-the-way locations, including his very own
adopted home base of the past two years which has gotten plenty of four-color
ink since his arrival in its midst.
In this one person, I found outsized hate,
anger, vulgarity, rage, hostility, and hypocrisy of a degree I never could have
imagined all rolled into one mindset. He tried to represent the same mindset of
every single other surfer who calls this place their home, whether they were
born and raised here or not.
The good news? The more surfers we met and
talked to, the more we found out it was simply not the case.
This is especially true with the real locals
who are not transplants. And even a good majority of the very legitimately
concerned transplants that we met were apologetic for this one person’s
behavior, and wanted us to know in no uncertain terms that we were welcome,
which was something we very much appreciated after getting stepped to so hard
by the local non-local and basically told to get the hell out.
Those surfers’ chief concern was making sure we
didn’t come to “blow the place up” and put it on the map by way of identifying
break locations or even what country we were in, which is the furthest thing
from the way I've conducted my explorations in 35-plus years of surf travel
journalism. My record speaks for itself, but, unfortunately, the one guy who
got up in our faces must not be familiar with it.
And over what?
A destination most of you will probably never
have high on your list for your next surf trip, due to cost, freezing cold
water, inclement weather, and precious little hard information or facts on
where the best waves can be found. None of which I ever intended to reveal,
starting from the first time I ever wanted to come here a couple of decades
ago.
Even back then, I already knew it would be a
special place with amazing waves, way before Google Earth and about 1,000
Facebook photos depicted many great breaks here. And I’m not in the habit of
handing that information over, in print or on the web, on a silver platter to
anyone on a destination such as this.
Ever.
And, talking about silver platters, with our
Googled out, GPS'ed, swell-modeled-all-to-hell Internet information overloaded
band of surfing brothers, there are precious few secrets anymore. This location
has not been one for a long, long time, if you bother to look at Surfline,
Magic Seaweed, Buoy Weather, Wetsand, or any number of other sites that you can
access via your cell phone, laptop, iPad, ad infinitum.
And I guar-an-damn-tee that the one who
protested the loudest uses all the above sources to do his business in exposing
all the surf destinations he travels to for the same reasons I do.
The saddest thing about this trip was that
instead of this person bringing us together and enabling us to have a rational,
heartfelt, even passionate dialogue with the surfing community’s elders,
spokesmen, and any other concerned, everyday local surfers who wanted to have a
discussion with my crew — all of whom are very mellow, friendly,
sociable, give-you-the-shirts-off-their-backs veteran travelers who are acute
to local sentiments where ever they go and were hand picked for those exact
reasons — the individual instead accosted us, leading us to believe he
was the spokesman for everyone in the province. And telling us bad things were
going to happen if we didn't “get the f @%# out” immediately.
He stirred the pot, causing an unprecedented
response to my first photo blog, and ended up shining the brightest spotlight imaginable on this very beautiful
place with good-hearted people. Because of what?
Well, when you find out the answer to that one,
let me know. I’m not hard to find. Except there usually is no answer to the hypocritical
condition, so I’m not expecting one any time soon.
It is just an ugly byproduct of a human being
you can never hope to understand.
In closing on a positive note to the real
locals: the 30 minutes of ugly hostility we encountered from one person did not
take the shine off the beauty of your country and the rest of our time spent
there chasing, with great futility, waves.
You live in an amazing place that only a few
hearty souls can or dare to exist in, and I now better understand your bonds
with one another and why you’d rather not see the world come rushing in to surf
your waves. Which, trust me, ain’t gonna happen anytime soon.
Most of all, we appreciated coming to an
understanding with most of you in the end, especially with the one group of surfers
who so kindly helped us get our van (that I got stuck) unstuck, thereby basically
shooting down this one guy’s bullshit.
We appreciated your blunt but courteous
honesty, your passionate but respectful approach, your fierce but not
threatening protection of your breaks from media scrutiny — all
legitimate fears very much worth talking about — and the cold beers and
handshakes afterwards.
It’s how we hoped it would have been from the
beginning, if not for the dark and ugly start and the unwelcoming committee of
one.
Maybe next time we can bypass all that and go
right for the handshakes and beers first.
17th Annual Quiksilver King Of The Peak Set
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