Local Surfers: Collaboration with Yakutat Surf Club and Emocean Magazine

This story was first published in Emocean Magazine in autumn of 2022. It is reprinted here with permission.

Southeast Alaska is defined by wetness. Yakutat, for example, celebrates an average of nearly 150 inches and 250 days of precipitation each year. The rhythm of rainfall is a soundtrack to our soggy lives. As a state, Alaska harbors more coastline than the rest of the ‘lower 48’ combined, much of it tracing the intricate outline of the Southeastern panhandle. These watery contours contain countless islands, 17 million acres of the Tongass National Forest, over 30 isolated rural communities, twenty sovereign tribal governments, glaciers, roiling salmon streams, coastal mountains, and a complex way of life dictated by the seasons, the weather, and tides.

Surfing in Alaska is, yes, cold. The waves are finicky. The journey to access surf can include frightening boat rides, deep potholed offroads, and beaches with dive-bombing arctic terns or bears. But, whatever. People who live in Southeast Alaska don’t want to be coddled. We live here in part because it’s challenging. Trying to activate numb fingers long enough to pry booties off, squinting through the hail and relentless rain, and paddling to avoid enormous drifting cedar logs all builds community. And when everything lines up just right – surfing here can be bliss.

Despite the mountains and ocean that divide our towns and villages, our communities are closely connected through lifeways and our relations to land and water. For Tlingit, Haida, and Tsimshian families, the depth of those relations is best measured in generations, not years. Just recently an 11,000-year-old stone salmon weir was found undersea beside Prince of Wales Island. For context, that salmon trap is over twice as old as the pyramids in Egypt and is the oldest stone fish trap ever found. This ‘scientific’ evidence only continues to confirm what my Indigenous friends, some featured here, have always known in their hearts and bodies — that their ancestors have been living in reciprocity with this watery environment for so long it would be impossible to imagine this place without them.

For newcomers, settling into the rhythms of building a good life here knits you close to the seasons and helps you realize the dependence we have not only on our oceans and forests, but to one another. Nearly ten years ago I moved to Sitka. These mountains are where I learned to hunt, these rivers where I learned to dipnet sockeye, and these communities are where I learned what it meant to belong. While I’m still very much a novice, learning to catch swells that also traveled great distances before collapsing on Sitka’s volcanic reefs, brings me profound joy.

Yakutat Surf Club (YSC), where many of the locals in this story met, is a demonstration of people coming together from different communities, backgrounds, and cultures to share a deep love of surfing and community. Yakutat, Yaakwdáat in Tlingit, translates to ‘the place where the canoes rest’. Three years ago, YSC was created to empower, educate, and inspire community through exposure to Tlingit culture and the ocean. Supporting the camp in small ways over the years, I’ve enjoyed watching youth grow from being pushed into knee deep party waves to catching waves on their own.

The cold waters of Southeast Alaska are a natural meeting ground for the people here. And when we’re lucky, the Pacific also softens our tough, salty bodies with the gift of waves – best shared with a small group of ambitious friends.

Charlie’s first surfboard, a 1960’s pop-out ‘Tiki’ longboard, washed up with 20 years of a mussel and barnacle growth encrusted on it. Since repairing that board and pushing it into the local sound 30 years ago, Charlie has been consumed. As an educator, he combines Tlingit and Haida culture with technology, math, and more. He’s led skate clubs for middle schoolers, helped with Yakutat Surf Club, built wooden surfboards with kids, taught Pacific Northwest Coast design, received countless honors and awards, and wears socks with hotdogs on them. Charlie’s days are busy with everything from planning programs and lessons for his students, to teaching, fishing, and skating around town with his little fluffy dog. Regardless of the day’s activities – the first thing Charlie does when he wakes up is check for waves. 

Describe your early surfing days?

I’m Haida and before colonization it was an everyday thing for Haidas to soak in the cold water. We’re water people. When other kids were running away from the water, I was jumping in. 

One of the first times I went surfing, I was suiting up in the parking lot in Sitka and a cop showed up and an ambulance. Concerned, I asked what was going on and he told me, ‘Oh, we’re gonna be here so when you get hypothermic so we can save you.’ They watched me surf for a few hours before taking off. 

In the early ‘90s, SURFER Magazine sent Bob Barbour, Brock Little, Dave Parmenter, and a young Josh Mulcoy to town. I learned a lot from those guys. Before we had all these tools to predict conditions, when we heard a swell was coming from Tonga or somewhere we would camp out in the abandoned military bunkers on an outside island and wait for waves. I wasn’t the first surfer in Sitka, but I’ve been around probably the longest. I’m the longest one left at least.

What do you love most about surfing?

Well for me, the biggest thing is just reconnecting with the ocean. It’s the one place where I feel like I can be myself, be a nerd and nobody cares. Nothing else matters. I mean, you can let other things get in the way, but all it does is get in the way. I take out my aggression while skating and surfing — it’s just freedom. I quit drinking when I was 20. I’m in education now but I dropped out of high school after three days. Now I’ve spent three decades teaching young leaders. Surfing keeps me healthy.

What are some of the core lessons you teach your students?

Cold water drowning used to be the leading cause of death for commercial fishermen in part because not many of them knew how to swim. Which is why back in the ‘80s we started this thing in the Sitka school district where you cannot graduate unless you know how to swim. It’s made a huge difference in our community.

The main thing is giving these young folks the skill sets they need to survive. That’s why I push for place-based learning and integration of the Native culture because we’ve been here for ten thousand years. We survived before money came here and, as much as it irks some people, we will be here when it’s all gone.

Beyond survival skills, what do you teach and how does that connect to surfing?

With all my boardsports I focused on getting good enough to have fun and do it safely, responsibly, and respectfully. Those are the three things we also push for from preschool all the way up to senior year. We focus on teaching kids to respect the lands and waters, one another, and themselves. It all starts with self respect which leads to respecting others — regardless of what their opinions and cultural backgrounds are. 

Surfing is almost kind of a cultural thing. I was just listening to kids today talking about culture and this one kid was going on about how she had no culture because she was white. After listening for a while, I had to jump in. We all have culture. Sitka has its own culture and subcultures within that culture. And then we started talking about skateboarding and surfing culture too. Culture is community.

Jed and I live together on a piece of land that is sometimes an island (depending on tides) which makes getting to the local break an interesting balancing act with surfboards, wetsuits, and our weimaraner on kayaks. Jed taught me how to surf, hunt, fish, drive stick, and splitboard. 

Growing up in Sitka, Jed’s playground has always included the mountains, streams, and oceans. Whether chasing mountain goats up a granite summit or waves on the outer coast – Jed is happiest when pushing his limits. 

What attracted you to surfing?

I grew up in Sitka snowboarding, skating, and wakeboarding. Surfing was always intriguing to me, so after our winter snowpack became less consistent with warming winters, I decided to commit to learning how to surf.  

How has surfing changed in your lifetime?

Surfing has continued to become more popular, even in cold waters. The pace of new growth seems to have doubled over the past couple years with Covid. I’m trying to not get too grouchy about it.

How is surfing in Alaska unique?

Alaska is a mixed blessing as far as surf goes. We have some great waves, large swells, few sharks, and fewer surfers; however, the temperatures can be uninviting. There are relatively few good waves for a large amount of coastline. Alaska’s surf is also very fickle due to inconsistent winds, large tides, and endless darkness throughout winter.

What does accessing waves here look like?

There aren’t a lot of surf breaks that you can drive to in Southeast Alaska partly because there aren’t a lot of roads or places to drive in a region that’s almost entirely islands. Access can be very daunting often involving boats and/or long hikes. The waves that can be accessed by a road often have crowds when any swell arrives. The spots that are more difficult to access are more exposed to weather and require boat rides, which often means nobody in the water but you and the friends you came with. 

Most memorable surf session?

My most memorable day of surf ever was right at home. There was a solid long period swell hitting, but the wind was way too strong for our reef. A few friends were climbing a fairly big mountain for some spring snow, so I packed my splitboard and joined. Once we had climbed up 3000 feet, I could see the wind was starting to lay down in the Sound, so I immediately texted a couple surf buddies to get a plan in motion. My dog and I did one run, and bailed on the snowboarding for the promise of waves. We went down without the rest of the group, so of course we ran into a large brown bear. It didn’t get too scary, but still a little more exciting than I was expecting.

We made it down, hastily packed up our boards, loaded up the boat, and headed for one of our best reefs. This was a sunny 75 degree day, and the waves did not disappoint. It was about a foot overhead, glassy clean, with long running walls – the best I’ve ever seen at this particular spot. Another boat of friends joined us and everyone caught waves until exhaustion. Warm and sunny surf is a rarity in our part of the world, but when everything comes together it’s hard to beat. That was one of the most amazing days of my life.

Avery learned to surf three years ago through Yakutat Surf Club. When she was four, she had a scary underwater experience that left her fearful of the water. Learning to brave the waves and overcome her anxiety with the support of instructors and friends gives her the confidence to conquer anything. 

What are your first memories of the water?

I wore floaties in my grandmother’s pool in California cause I didn’t really know how to swim and I would go swimming at Situk River in Yakutat when my dad was fishing.

What are the hardest parts of surfing?

The first time I put on a wetsuit, we had to cut the hood off because I was too scared to put it back on because I thought it was too tight. But now, I can put on my own wetsuit! I just need help with the zipper and putting on the hood. The first time I wiped out was on a boogie board and I was nervous because I was underwater, but I got back up. 

Now, probably the hardest part is paddling out or balancing on the surfboard when you pop up. 

What is the best part of surfing?

Hanging out with my friends and catching a good party wave and standing up. I just think it’s fun being in the water and I’m not as scared as I used to be. 

Do you have advice for other young people who might be scared to try surfing?

Maybe stay close to a surf instructor, that might make them feel safer. But I usually just stay by my friends, and we root each other on.

Best part of surf camp?

This weekend we all caught a party wave – there was Chelsea, Ryan, Aurora, Greg, Jackson, and I all on one wave. This September, some of us are going to San Francisco to surf!

How long will you keep surfing?

I’m not sure but I know that when I’m older I want to be a pro surfer. 

Ryan is as creative with his wave riding as he is with his work as a photographer, filmographer, and musician. He’s easily the most encouraging and excitable surfer in the Southeast and applies his positive energy to supporting youth on their surf journey.

Where did you learn to surf, what did that look like?

I grew up surfing in Puerto Rico with board shorts, good waves, amazing food, and a really strong surfing culture and community. That subculture along with my skateboarding crew was my sanctuary outside of school where I was honestly a pretty huge nerd in the eyes of my peers who thought caring about grades was lame. Not me – straight A’s baby all the way.

Can you describe the Juneau surf scene?

Here in Juneau we are not on the outer coast but with a hard 40 knot North gust down the channel there are a couple of spots that break with some pretty fun longboarding waves. 

The community of surfers in Juneau is otherworldly because it’s only about 13 people and mostly new surfers. We cheer each other on every wave, give each other tips, and help take each other’s wetsuits off after long frigid surf sessions. It is like nothing I have ever seen before. People are just kamikaze party waving on every single ride — but in a good way. Surfing in Puerto Rico can have its localism and machismo but here it is just fun-loving with zero macho vibe and everyone is your cheerleader. 

This mindset actually got me in trouble on a trip to Mexico because a couple people wanted to beat me up because they misunderstood my cheering as me trying to call them off of their waves. After we straightened everything out, they forgave me, and started giving me a bunch of waves. Lesson learned: cheer everyone on their waves, and you may be gifted a couple memorable waves for your good natured spirit! I feel like the average surf crowd can learn a thing or two from the positive Juneau surfers.

What was your original inspiration for helping start Yakutat Surf Club?

I was surfing in Juneau where I met my Alaskan surf guru, Dylan Quigley, who opened my eyes to cold-water surfing adventures I never could have dreamed of. In one community there were some really talented and welcoming local surfers, but they were all older, so I asked myself, where were all the groms? Had these surf days been in Puerto Rico there would have been 20 kids under the age of 16 there hooting and hollering. I tried to set out and plant a seed to get local kids out in the water and whoa has that seed grown into a full blown cedar tree with local leadership!

What do you want most for youth to experience by surfing?

I think everyone gets something different out of surfing, but if nothing else I hope it gives them a positive place to play, rejoice in nature, and connect to the land and their neighbors in a new way. All the kids that have come to camp have frolicked in the icy waters of their hometown, and they are already total badasses in their unique ways by hunting, fishing, foraging, and gathering for their sustenance. Surfing is a new way to play with their surroundings and, who knows, maybe give them a place to reveal to themselves their inner strengths, style, and grace they never knew they had. That’s what surfing did for me growing up.

What is the future of surfing in Alaska?

The future of surfing in Alaska is looking bright and I am proud to have made a tiny contribution to helping to get a younger crop of surfers in the water. Thanks to all those folks that helped make it possible. Lord knows, I couldn’t have done it on my own.

Learning to understand the waves has helped Zoé better understand herself. Growing up in Yakutat, she has always been connected to the lands and waters. Learning to surf through two years of surf camp has given her a new outlet to escape daily stresses and find freedom in the cold waters that surround her community. 

What attracted you to surfing?

Being in town where nothing changes and everything is the same can be dull, but coming out here to the water — it’s different every day. The waters might be lower, colder, warmer, and it’s really nice knowing that it will be different. There’s tougher times, but then there’s also nice times where we can stand up and just glide across the water. Ever since I was really little, we would come out here and I’d run my hands across the water and I could feel it gliding. I knew I wanted to try surfing.

What do you like most about being in the water?

My mental state when I’m not in the water is rough, I would say. I’m always worried, I’m anxious. I don’t know what to do in the next hour. Then, once you’re in the water, you’re just in the water.

It’s peaceful to be surrounded by everything but nothing. The water is huge, and I’m surrounded by blue. It feels like floating. I guess because I am floating but, also my mindset, my mental health is just there. Nothing’s bad. It just feels nice – warming.

How does it feel now being a certified lifeguard? In what ways are you better prepared to take care of yourself and others in the ocean?

Being a lifeguard gives not just me but also others around me security. I like being someone people can come to if they need help. Maybe I can be a good role model for the little ones and help them become more comfortable trying new things that can take them places!

This story features Yaktuat Surf Club. Based in Yakutat, Alaska, Yakutat Surf Club’s purpose is to empower, educate, and inspire community through exposure to the Tlingit culture and the ocean.