Growing up at Kewalos

An average surfer’s take on the grom hotspot of the world.

Aunty Chris was a surf super-mom. She was the kind of Mom that any group of young, licenceless surfers need, but definitely don’t always deserve. Behind the helm of a 2004, seafoam green Honda Odyssey, loaded with sunscreen, wax, and a camcorder, Aunty Chris picked us up from school every day and took us straight to Kewalos on the south shore of O‘ahu. From the moment we stepped behind those state-of-the-art electric sliding doors, it was surf time. With Billabong’s Trilogy streaming on repeat on the tiny fold-down tv screen, the rest of the world just drifted away (Andy’s surfing tends to do that). 

Pulling into the maze of the Kewalo Basin Boat Harbor parking lot always seemed to flip a switch for me. It was at this moment, that my growing excitement, throughout the dreadfully tedious day in elementary school (haha), quickly gave way to a momentous anxiety. As a pre-teen, I had no real way to understand these feelings. In the last moments of the drive I would mask this emotion with a few extra fart jokes and hope that no-one noticed as I inevitably got quiet out in the water. 

To this day, I believe that Kewalos in the mid 00’s had one of the most talented under-18 lineups in the world. Walking across the lawn felt like walking down the tunnel into an all-star game. The local crew, already posted up at the main peak, was absolutely ridiculous. 

On any given day, this group, in its entirety, could be seen out in the water: Zeke Lau, Keanu Asing, Carissa Moore, Cayla Moore, Ha’a Aikau, Kaoli Kahokuloa, Micah, Kalia, Isiah, Josh, and Seth Moniz, Alyssa Quizon, Justin Quizon, Coco Ho, Buddy Wiggins, Alex Pendelton, Fin Miggil, and Elija Gates. 

Our van, although less notable perhaps, consisted of no slouches either. Dane Rust (Aunty Chris’ son), was an up and coming, Rip Curl sponsored, goofy footer with a nonchalant, groovy style. He currently lives above Pupukea and can be spotted every so often in a beloved Mason Ho edit.  Liam McTigue was a loud, in-your-face, kind of grom and has since taken his confidence to the main stage at Pipeline. While Pierce, a calm, cool, collected kid, grew up to become a Real Estate Analyst in San Diego. But he spends his winters at home too.  

Needless to say, surfing in this crowd was intense. It was intimidating. And as nice as everyone was, both on land and in the water, it was easy to start feeling like an outcast. Or worse… a kook. These surfers ripped. Many of them now compete (or have competed) on the WSL. Even as I type this, most of them are probably packing waves on this late-season north-west swell on the North Shore. 

As a kid I didn’t match up, not even close. And the gap only got bigger. I was a tall, lanky, haole boy with awkward tendencies. My surfing reflected this. Despite paddling out with my buddies, I’d often find myself picking off insiders. Despite my obsession with waves and wave riding, my confidence in the water — in the social aspects of surfing — was wavering. 

This very same obsession, which first brought me to the ocean, and continues to bring me to the ocean today, is the only reason I kept pulling up to Kewalos and paddling out. And thank goodness I did. Because in actuality, I learned a lot from my time sitting on the inside. I learned how to be modest and how to be respectful. I learned the importance of giving someone else a wave. I learned to never take a set wave for granted. At the surface, these seem like small things. But in actuality, they have rippled into the driving forces of my life. 

These values like humility, respect, sharing, and attention to the moment are things that I learned at a young age at Kewalos. Watching a bald Zeke Lau pumping down the line past me for a backside air. Watching Carissa perfect her timeless backside snap. Watching Coco burn me when I paddled out to the peak (honestly I felt honored). These were all things that excited me and terrified me. It made me stoked but also anxious. It’s hard being one of the worst at something.

In hindsight, I feel so thankful for my time out there. Perfect mini lefts with some of the best young surfers in the world is as good a place to hone your skills as ever. Over time my confidence did grow, and my surfing got better, and I began to form meaningful relationships in the water with people other than those I went to school with. Most of the kids I grew up surfing with out there probably couldn’t pick me out of a crowd. Some of them might. A couple definitely would. 

Today, when I see these once-groms on the cover of surf magazines, WSL contests, and viral instagram photos of Pipe, I think back to my time on the inside at Kewalos. All the messing around in the lineup, all the jostling for the best waves, all the pressure from parents and sponsors. If I didn’t feel it personally, I felt it secondhand. Kewalos in 2008 was the place for young surfers to grow. A new generation of surfers were molded by it. And I got to watch it all go down, quietly, picking off the scraps when I had the chance.