Big wave paradise

Sunset Beach - courtesy of Oahu Visitors Bureau

On Oahu's North Shore, pro surfing is a spectator sport

Story by Tracy Cabot

Hawaii boasts the world's biggest waves, towering over 30 feet, thundering toward shore, exploding like cannons. If you're there at the right time, you can witness the mesmerizing, gut-gripping spectacle of big-wave surfing, just an hour's drive from Waikiki. The amphitheatres are gorgeous sand beaches, the breaks have names like Avalanche, Himalayas, Phantoms and Gas Chambers—and the tickets are free.

Each summer, the vast North Pacific slumbers. On Oahu's North Shore, sailboats anchor in Waimea Bay and tourists snorkel peacefully with sea turtles at Shark's Cove. Then, in September, as sudden as an early snowfall in the Rockies, the first storm waves roll in and summer is gone.

In October, as the huge surf builds, Shark's Cove becomes a churning cauldron of white water. The ocean, now fully awake and dangerous, transforms the North Shore into a place of crackling excitement. At Sunset Beach and Waimea Bay, spectators and TV crews share front-row seats for one of the greatest shows on Earth: the world's top wave matadors challenging the biggest waves on the planet.

These grand waves start their life cycle just like ripples on a pond. As a breeze crosses still water, ripples begin to form. The stronger the breeze, the bigger the ripples. In a larger body of water, like a lake, the ripples can build into wavelets. And if the breeze continues for several hours, the wavelets become small waves. It's that simple. Wind makes waves. The size of the waves depends on the speed of the wind, and how far and how long it blows.

The Pacific Ocean, larger than all of the Earth's continents combined, offers an immense surface for wave generation. During the summer months, the North Pacific remains remarkably calm. But in the fall and winter, icy winds blasting out of Siberia collide with warm ocean currents flowing up from the Philippines, producing huge storms which rage all the way from Japan to Alaska. Winds howl across thousands of miles, and the North Pacific turns into a wave machine. In the Hawaiian Islands, the great swells hit the North Shore of Oahu at just the right angle.

They march in, stretching from horizon to horizon. A mile out, where the waves first encounter the deep outer reef, white water billows and plumes in what the locals call Cloudbreak. At Pipeline, where the waves break close-in, the ground shakes, and the thunder is more menacing.

Photo Kirk Lee Ader Courtesy of Oahu Visitors Bureau

The surfers who defy these massive waves bear little resemblance to the happy-go-lucky surfer dudes from the Beach Boys' songs. They come in November, from all over the world—Chile, Australia, Brazil, South Africa—hard-muscled young men with fierce eyes. They arrive with different reef scars and different languages, mixing uneasily with the Hawaiian big-wave riders. But outsiders and locals alike all face the same fears, and are driven by the same burning desire: to win fame and fortune in the North Shore's big-wave contests.

If you want to join the excitement as a spectator, all you have to do is show up on a big wave day. Park and watch at Waimea Bay, or at Pipeline (just to the left of Ehukai Beach, one mile further on Kamehameha Hwy), or at Sunset Beach, another mile beyond. The best parking spaces are available early in the morning. By noon, Waimea's overflow parking fills the lots at St. Peter and Paul Catholic Church overlooking the bay, and at Sunset Elementary School across from Ehukai Beach. At Sunset Beach, cars park angled in from the road along the beach frontage, or in the overflow parking across the street behind the restrooms.

Waves come in sets, from three to seven or so. Between sets, the lull can last as long as ten minutes. So don't be impatient. Just hang out where you see the photographers with the long lenses and you'll soon see surf daredevils dancing on the big ones. You could be watching the world's top big-wave surfers, like Ken Bradshaw or Kelly Slater.

If you're up on the road above Waimea Bay watching a set come in, and the photographers are clicking, you may wonder why the waves don't look so big. It's because they're so far out and you're looking down on them. To get a true idea how big a wave really is, watch a surfer on the wave and compare the surfer's height to the full face of the wave. If the wave is as twice as tall as the surfer, it's called "double overhead." Then there's "triple overhead," when Waimea starts getting interesting, and it goes up from there.

All of the best surf watching spots are less than 10 minutes away if you're staying on the North Shore. If you're in Waikiki, allow for at least an hour's drive. Before leaving, call the surf report at 808-596-7873. Updated at 7 a.m., noon and mid-afternoon, the recording will give you wave heights, Hawaiian style—based on the back of the wave. Since the front, or face, of the wave is roughly twice the height of the back, a surf report of six feet means the waves are really 12 feet for the surfers ("double overhead"). If the surf report says 10 feet or more, head for your car; the spectacle is happening.

If you're a swimmer or surfer yourself, and you arrive on the beach during a lull between sets, don't let the temporary calm tempt you. If you see photographers, don't even think about going in. And don't feel bad about not trying. If you look closely at your fellow spectators, you'll see some with deep tans, ropey-looking muscles and reef scars. When the North Shore's waves are at their peak, only about 50 surfers on the planet are good enough—and brave enough—to challenge them. At that point, even the other Pro Tour surfers become spectators.

Watching with them, your stomach will clench, just like theirs, when a huge set rolls in. Together, you'll exult when a surfer escapes the closing jaws of the wave, and together you'll groan involuntarily when a surfer wipes out, his breathtaking ride suddenly becoming a life-and-death struggle under tons of white water. Just watching will leave you feeling worn out and exhilarated. You'll always remember the fierce power of the waves and the fearless big wave gladiators of the North Shore.

Exploring the North Shore

In the hour's drive from Waikiki to the North Shore, Hawaii transforms itself before your eyes. High-rises disappear, traffic thins and the freeway becomes a two-lane road through miles of pineapple fields. The North Shore greets you not with malls and fast food joints, but with the sound of roosters crowing. The road to the great waves leads past a horse ranch, farms and fruit stands. Locals call this "the Country." You'll think you've gone to a different island.

Accommodations on the North Shore include B&Bs, rental cottages and a variety of small inns. The only large hotel is the Turtle Bay Resort.

Although some people can watch the North Shore's big waves for hours, you may want to explore some more of Oahu's country life. You could take a hike at Waimea Valley, right behind Waimea Beach. Drive up Pupukea Road to visit the remains of one of ancient Oahu's most revered temples, Pu'u O Mahuka, and to find a magnificent view of the coast.

Between the surf spots and the Polynesian Cultural Center, you'll find locals selling fresh coconuts filled with cold coconut milk, sunrise papayas, sweet ripe pineapples and just-woven straw hats. In Haleiwa, the North Shore's biggest town, buy fresh mahi, bigeye tuna or ono fish at the market. Every Saturday morning, a country market sets up shop at Sunset School, offering fruits, vegetables, crafts, homemade foods, hand-made soap and tropical flowers.

After a week on the North Shore, Honolulu will seem like a distant memory. You'll feel like you could stay on the North Shore forever—and some do.

Tracy Cabot is a travel writer based in Oahu, Hawaii