Gordon MacRae Blog

I’m not even a surfer. I just like the aesthetic. I’m terrible on a board. I tried to learn at Rockaway Beach in New York. I managed to stand up on one wave and ride it into the shore in a straight line. I felt on top of the world.

That autumn, I had a lesson on a hurricane swell with a local instructor. I got up at 5am in Greenpoint, packed my wetsuit and laptop in a bag and got the A train out to the Rockaways.

The waves were 3 or 4 feet high. From the shore they looked manageable. But when we got in the water they felt like double overheads. I paddled out, duck diving under the waves breaking on the shore.

I’d foolishly booked an hour long lesson. I sat next to the instructor beyond where the waves were breaking. Every time a promising wave appeared I’d say “I’ll get the next one” until eventually he pushed me into one and shouted “this is your wave”.

I paddled hard and the wave rose underneath me and I looked down and there was nothing but a four foot drop. I rose to my feet and stood, catching the wave for a brief, wonderful second, until the front of my board pearled under the water and I was thrown over the front and into the pitch of the wave crashing overhead.

I tumbled around inside the wave, inhaling water, not knowing which way was up or down. I came up underneath my board with my eyes shut, thinking I’d drowned. Until the board fell away and I was at the shoreline.

That was the only wave I ever rode. I spent the rest of the lesson battling back out to the break and refusing to be pushed into another wave. The best $75 I ever spent.

That was eight years ago. Still, I photo like this grabs me somewhere I can’t explain. Maybe in another life I’ll be a better surfer.