Big Kahuna
Administrator
- Location
- Tuscaloosa, AL
I ran across this earlier doing some research, interesting reading........
I'm not as brave as I used to be. I'm not talking about the accumulated effects of living 42 years and surviving crashes on land, snow, and water; of nursing broken bones, torn ligaments, bruises, and contusions; of absorbing the gory dinner-table tales of my father the ER doc; or even of being self-employed without any disability insurance.
To be honest, I'm not as brave as I was five minutes ago. You see, a Pacific wave just snuck up behind me, smacked me off the seat of my Yamaha WaveRunner XL800, and then set the 692-pound thing after me. As I swam away, I recalled the admonition of my riding partner, Steve Lawler, "Rookies don't ride in the surf without paying a price."
Lucky for me, the price for my inexperience is nothing more than a snootful of salt water. No broken bones, no bloody teeth. I didn't even get arrested.
I'm in the ocean just north of Oceanside, California, to get a taste of the extreme—waterbike riding in the surf, a for-experts-only motor sport that is as thrilling as it is dangerous. That wave blindsided me because I was busy watching another rider complete a perfect, sky-high back flip—with his waterbike—off a cresting breaker.
I regather my WaveRunner, climb back on, and power back outside the surf line with water dripping from my nose and my courage dripping away just as fast. I'm surrounded by an all-star crew of studly surf-shredding pros—Victor "The Slasher" Sheldon, 33, a five-time national waterbike racing champion, and Scott Watkins, 41, a two-time national and world freestyle riding champion. Lawler was recently crowned king of the veterans standup class on the national race circuit. Then there's me. I'm like a little league pitcher joining the Yankee staff.
THE OLD SCHOOL
The acknowledged pioneers of riding in the surf on waterbikes are a group of guys who started riding in the late 1970s and in 1981 formed a demo team called The Wavebusters. Members included Doug Silverstein, Vello Lippand, Randy Laine, Tony Millikan, and Norm Bigelow. Silverstein started surf riding on a Kawasaki Jet Ski in 1977 and became so good that he was hired by Kawasaki to give demonstrations around the country to help promote the young sport. Silverstein and Lippand started racing and won some championships in the early 1980s. Laine and Millikan were motocross racers and surfers who liked to ride. Eventually, they all began riding together and were invited to perform at Oceanside Harbor Days and the San Clemente Ocean Festival in 1981.
"We put together a synchronized riding show in the surf, performing at festivals and surfing contests as sort of a diversion for the crowd," recalls Silverstein. "We were mostly doing aerial tricks and 360-degree turns. I dreamed of doing a back flip, but I never thought it would be possible." The group stayed together until about 1990.
Riding in the surf got a fresh start in the mid-1990s, when a new breed of young riders got interested and started incorporating freestyle moves and jumping tricks into their waterbiking techniques. In March 1999 the first surf-riding contest, the invitational Red Bull Watercraft Surf Challenge, was held at Oceanside. There was optimism that more contests would be organized, but they have yet to materialize. The riders who can pull off the spectacular are a rare, brave breed so the talent pool is small.
THE RIGHT TOOLS
Sheldon and Watkins at work with Yamaha Superjets, which are tweaked for riding in the surf. They feature engines modified with higher compression, a custom-tuned exhaust, and a low-pitch impeller to boost bottom-end power. Throttle response and acceleration are more important than top speed in the surf. The stock rideplate, the aluminum plate that covers the pump housing along the aft section of the keel and doubles as sort of a trim tab, is exchanged for a shorter model that encourages the craft to ride nose high and quickens steering response. The stock steering handle is replaced with a reinforced model supported by a billet aluminum mounting bracket.
A stock SuperJet uses a siphon to clear the bilge, which works fine in calm waters. But surf models are rigged with one or even two electric bilge pumps that can clear a swamped hull in less than a minute. Watkins has installed "lifters" in the ridetray of his machine, rails of padded material that allow him to wedge his feet in place. These let him remain in contact with the boat while inverted. Everyone wears a helmet; the pros favor a lightweight lid designed for downhill mountain bike racing with a chin bar to protect the face from impact with the steering handle.
My three-passenger WaveRunner XL800 is a good choice for a beginner because its wide hull offers a stable landing platform and the lightweight, twin-cylinder, 784cc engine makes a strong 120 hp.
We plan to ride several miles up the coast. Given more time, the pros would rather ride in Mexico, off Baja beaches at Todo Santos and La Fonda, where there are bigger waves. As I cinch down my helmet and motor out of the marina, I'm fully prepared to stay out of the way and watch the experts. Little do I know what a temptress the surf can be.
The experience? Despite my temporary loss of courage, riding in the surf is the most fun I've ever had on a waterbike. The surf demands constant attention and respect. I learn to keep a 360-degree lookout to track waves coming in, my distance from shore, and the location of other riders. When you approach a wave, it's impossible to see what's on the other side, so it's important not to linger in a blind spot when you know other riders are coming up from behind, or to surf where others are riding out.
For amateur me, every wave is an adventure. Will it be an easy drop or a long fall? Riding in the surf demands a certain level of aggression. You reach a point where you must commit to the wave. Letting off the throttle or trying to turn could get you hurt. A rider heading into a wave needs to launch with enough speed to get the craft pointing skyward so that it lands on its tail. Landing flat hurts. Landing on the tail allows the bike to slide into the water.
I'm determined to take it easy. Yet I get sucked into the fun. I'm tempted to hit a wave that's just a little bigger than I'm comfortable with, and I start off a little faster than instinct says I should. Suddenly I realize I'm going to launch much bigger than planned. I have one of those ohmygod moments, and visions of compound fractures dance through my head as I hang in the air. But then I land and everything's okay—nothing broken and a cool adrenaline rush to boot.
"You figure you have a 50-mph watercraft hitting a 30-mph wave," says Lawler. "That's a lot of energy being released." Turns out I was nearly eight feet high. Nothing but air beneath me. But compared to the pros, that's nothing.
Watkins has been working on his barrel rolls and back flips. The back flip requires a wave with enough lip to shoot the SuperJet almost straight up. Watkins gooses the throttle just before takeoff and pulls back on the steering handle. He lands about one in three attempts cleanly. "The danger in the back flip is not rotating enough and landing flat, or coming out of the tray and having the craft land on top of you," Watkins explains.
Sheldon is going for big air, performing twists, and aiming his "re-entries," which involve launching off the curl, turning 180 degrees in the air, coming down nose first into the wave he just left, then surfing down its front. It's a great move for the camera because his craft's pump shoots a plume of water in the air as it flips around.
In big surf it's fun to ride in on the wave, power surfing on the crest with the bow hanging off in space, then charging down its face like a surfer. This is the move I'm working on when I get slapped down. I get ahead of the wave and instead of throttling down the face, I try to turn back onto the crest. A mistake. The wave rolls the boat and me over. Lawler warns me about falling off: "It's like being thrown in a clothes dryer with a 600-pound machine."
I've had snowmobiles and ATVs chase me after pitching me off, so I instinctively look for the WaveRunner when I bob to the surface and swim away from it when I figure I can't reboard before the next wave arrives. I wait for a bigger space between waves before swimming to the waterbike, jumping on, attaching the kill lanyard, and starting the motor.
We decide to adjourn for lunch. I realize that for Sheldon and Watkins riding in the surf is less a thrill than it is a challenge and a chance for accomplished athletes to push the limits of their riding skills, to express themselves, and to compete informally with one another. I've seen the same motivation push snowboarders and wakeboarders.
Watkins grew up surfing in Florida. "I spent 98 percent of the time sitting, paddling, or waiting for a wave," he says. "Windsurfing is also fun, but you need the wind. On a watercraft I can have fun even on small waves. Every time I go out I manage to do something I've never done before."
With that said, lunch gets demolished and we're all ready to head out again, to see what we can do that has never been done before. Maybe I'm braver than I thought.
I'm not as brave as I used to be. I'm not talking about the accumulated effects of living 42 years and surviving crashes on land, snow, and water; of nursing broken bones, torn ligaments, bruises, and contusions; of absorbing the gory dinner-table tales of my father the ER doc; or even of being self-employed without any disability insurance.
To be honest, I'm not as brave as I was five minutes ago. You see, a Pacific wave just snuck up behind me, smacked me off the seat of my Yamaha WaveRunner XL800, and then set the 692-pound thing after me. As I swam away, I recalled the admonition of my riding partner, Steve Lawler, "Rookies don't ride in the surf without paying a price."
Lucky for me, the price for my inexperience is nothing more than a snootful of salt water. No broken bones, no bloody teeth. I didn't even get arrested.
I'm in the ocean just north of Oceanside, California, to get a taste of the extreme—waterbike riding in the surf, a for-experts-only motor sport that is as thrilling as it is dangerous. That wave blindsided me because I was busy watching another rider complete a perfect, sky-high back flip—with his waterbike—off a cresting breaker.
I regather my WaveRunner, climb back on, and power back outside the surf line with water dripping from my nose and my courage dripping away just as fast. I'm surrounded by an all-star crew of studly surf-shredding pros—Victor "The Slasher" Sheldon, 33, a five-time national waterbike racing champion, and Scott Watkins, 41, a two-time national and world freestyle riding champion. Lawler was recently crowned king of the veterans standup class on the national race circuit. Then there's me. I'm like a little league pitcher joining the Yankee staff.
THE OLD SCHOOL
The acknowledged pioneers of riding in the surf on waterbikes are a group of guys who started riding in the late 1970s and in 1981 formed a demo team called The Wavebusters. Members included Doug Silverstein, Vello Lippand, Randy Laine, Tony Millikan, and Norm Bigelow. Silverstein started surf riding on a Kawasaki Jet Ski in 1977 and became so good that he was hired by Kawasaki to give demonstrations around the country to help promote the young sport. Silverstein and Lippand started racing and won some championships in the early 1980s. Laine and Millikan were motocross racers and surfers who liked to ride. Eventually, they all began riding together and were invited to perform at Oceanside Harbor Days and the San Clemente Ocean Festival in 1981.
"We put together a synchronized riding show in the surf, performing at festivals and surfing contests as sort of a diversion for the crowd," recalls Silverstein. "We were mostly doing aerial tricks and 360-degree turns. I dreamed of doing a back flip, but I never thought it would be possible." The group stayed together until about 1990.
Riding in the surf got a fresh start in the mid-1990s, when a new breed of young riders got interested and started incorporating freestyle moves and jumping tricks into their waterbiking techniques. In March 1999 the first surf-riding contest, the invitational Red Bull Watercraft Surf Challenge, was held at Oceanside. There was optimism that more contests would be organized, but they have yet to materialize. The riders who can pull off the spectacular are a rare, brave breed so the talent pool is small.
THE RIGHT TOOLS
Sheldon and Watkins at work with Yamaha Superjets, which are tweaked for riding in the surf. They feature engines modified with higher compression, a custom-tuned exhaust, and a low-pitch impeller to boost bottom-end power. Throttle response and acceleration are more important than top speed in the surf. The stock rideplate, the aluminum plate that covers the pump housing along the aft section of the keel and doubles as sort of a trim tab, is exchanged for a shorter model that encourages the craft to ride nose high and quickens steering response. The stock steering handle is replaced with a reinforced model supported by a billet aluminum mounting bracket.
A stock SuperJet uses a siphon to clear the bilge, which works fine in calm waters. But surf models are rigged with one or even two electric bilge pumps that can clear a swamped hull in less than a minute. Watkins has installed "lifters" in the ridetray of his machine, rails of padded material that allow him to wedge his feet in place. These let him remain in contact with the boat while inverted. Everyone wears a helmet; the pros favor a lightweight lid designed for downhill mountain bike racing with a chin bar to protect the face from impact with the steering handle.
My three-passenger WaveRunner XL800 is a good choice for a beginner because its wide hull offers a stable landing platform and the lightweight, twin-cylinder, 784cc engine makes a strong 120 hp.
We plan to ride several miles up the coast. Given more time, the pros would rather ride in Mexico, off Baja beaches at Todo Santos and La Fonda, where there are bigger waves. As I cinch down my helmet and motor out of the marina, I'm fully prepared to stay out of the way and watch the experts. Little do I know what a temptress the surf can be.
The experience? Despite my temporary loss of courage, riding in the surf is the most fun I've ever had on a waterbike. The surf demands constant attention and respect. I learn to keep a 360-degree lookout to track waves coming in, my distance from shore, and the location of other riders. When you approach a wave, it's impossible to see what's on the other side, so it's important not to linger in a blind spot when you know other riders are coming up from behind, or to surf where others are riding out.
For amateur me, every wave is an adventure. Will it be an easy drop or a long fall? Riding in the surf demands a certain level of aggression. You reach a point where you must commit to the wave. Letting off the throttle or trying to turn could get you hurt. A rider heading into a wave needs to launch with enough speed to get the craft pointing skyward so that it lands on its tail. Landing flat hurts. Landing on the tail allows the bike to slide into the water.
I'm determined to take it easy. Yet I get sucked into the fun. I'm tempted to hit a wave that's just a little bigger than I'm comfortable with, and I start off a little faster than instinct says I should. Suddenly I realize I'm going to launch much bigger than planned. I have one of those ohmygod moments, and visions of compound fractures dance through my head as I hang in the air. But then I land and everything's okay—nothing broken and a cool adrenaline rush to boot.
"You figure you have a 50-mph watercraft hitting a 30-mph wave," says Lawler. "That's a lot of energy being released." Turns out I was nearly eight feet high. Nothing but air beneath me. But compared to the pros, that's nothing.
Watkins has been working on his barrel rolls and back flips. The back flip requires a wave with enough lip to shoot the SuperJet almost straight up. Watkins gooses the throttle just before takeoff and pulls back on the steering handle. He lands about one in three attempts cleanly. "The danger in the back flip is not rotating enough and landing flat, or coming out of the tray and having the craft land on top of you," Watkins explains.
Sheldon is going for big air, performing twists, and aiming his "re-entries," which involve launching off the curl, turning 180 degrees in the air, coming down nose first into the wave he just left, then surfing down its front. It's a great move for the camera because his craft's pump shoots a plume of water in the air as it flips around.
In big surf it's fun to ride in on the wave, power surfing on the crest with the bow hanging off in space, then charging down its face like a surfer. This is the move I'm working on when I get slapped down. I get ahead of the wave and instead of throttling down the face, I try to turn back onto the crest. A mistake. The wave rolls the boat and me over. Lawler warns me about falling off: "It's like being thrown in a clothes dryer with a 600-pound machine."
I've had snowmobiles and ATVs chase me after pitching me off, so I instinctively look for the WaveRunner when I bob to the surface and swim away from it when I figure I can't reboard before the next wave arrives. I wait for a bigger space between waves before swimming to the waterbike, jumping on, attaching the kill lanyard, and starting the motor.
We decide to adjourn for lunch. I realize that for Sheldon and Watkins riding in the surf is less a thrill than it is a challenge and a chance for accomplished athletes to push the limits of their riding skills, to express themselves, and to compete informally with one another. I've seen the same motivation push snowboarders and wakeboarders.
Watkins grew up surfing in Florida. "I spent 98 percent of the time sitting, paddling, or waiting for a wave," he says. "Windsurfing is also fun, but you need the wind. On a watercraft I can have fun even on small waves. Every time I go out I manage to do something I've never done before."
With that said, lunch gets demolished and we're all ready to head out again, to see what we can do that has never been done before. Maybe I'm braver than I thought.
