Stories

Published on June 27th, 2021 | by Don Piburn

Photo by Jesse King |  7

Centuries of River Surfing History in Hawaiʻi – Resetting the Global Narrative

Centuries of River Surfing History in Hawaiʻi – Resetting the Global Narrative

The dominant global narrative has been that Bavaria, Germany is the birthplace of river surfing. “Brettlrutschn” (board-sliding), was a precursor to Bavarian river surfing using a wooden board tied with ropes to a large tree or bridge. Adventurers would hold onto a second rope tied to the board and lean back against the river current.

In the summer of 1965 Arthur Pauli from Trostberg, Bavaria fashioned a homemade hollow wooden surfboard. Pauli took Brettlrutschn to the next level by holding a tow line in his hands and steering his board back and forth across the river near his home. Pauli notes that by 1966, “we already experimented to surf on a longboard without using the rope. Unfortunately, the board was too long for that.” The Pauli brothers, Arthur and Alexander, first rode a surfboard unsupported at Flosslände, a river wave on the Isar River in Munich, Germany on September 5, 1972.

North American river surfing history traces very precisely through Mike “Fitz” FitzPatrick, Steve Osman, and Steve Hahn, who first surfed the Lunch Counter rapid on Wyoming’s Snake River in 1978. Their shared experiences as whitewater river guides and kayakers meant they understood the Snake River’s abundant holes and waves. Varying degrees of wave knowledge helped them recognize the Lunch Counter’s board-surfing potential.

Fitz was the first to get to his feet and link a series of rollercoaster turns for about 30 seconds. A riverside professional whitewater photographer working for Float-o-Graphs out of Jackson, Wyoming captured FitzPatrick’s historic 1978 first ride in the picture posted here. Fitz recalls that it took several more sessions before his companion surfers were able to join him up-and-riding.
(For the rest of the story, see: The History of River Surfing in North America: 1975 to 2000 by Don Piburn).

River Surfing’s Genesis in the Hawaiian Islands

Narratives evolve when collections of previously unknown or unsung stories come to light.

In 2001 a project began to digitally scan over 100 years of Hawaiian-language newspapers. The resulting archive, named Hoʻolaupaʻi, was housed at the Bishop Museum in Honolulu, Hawaiʻi. Around a decade later, it was handed over to the Office of Hawaiian Affairs, where it is now maintained in their Papakilo Data Base. Researchers, historians, and interested others can use it to search Hawaiian-language newspapers published between 1834 and 1948.

As with all things surfing, it was Native Hawaiians who first elevated the act of surfing on stationary river waves to the level of a sporting practice.

Articles in Hawaiian-language newspapers and other period writings by Native Hawaiians, early missionaries, explorers, and travelers to Hawaiʻi in the nineteenth and early twentieth century reveal this truth.

Modern river surfers are likely familiar with the countless internet photos and video clips of surfers and bodyboarders riding standing waves at the mouth of the Waimea River on the island of Oʻahu. On Wednesday, January 16, 2019 a handful of us spent 4 hours digging a channel through the foredune that blocked the waters of the river from reaching the sea. When the waters broke through and I stood on my first stationary wave there, I was privileged to be surfing what is the longest continuously river surfed location on the planet. The mouth of the Waimea River is quite literally, a river break of legend.

Historically, surfing sports in Hawaiʻi were widely popular and practiced by everyone from chiefs to commoners, by both sexes, and by people of all ages. Given the Hawaiian cultural emphasis on grace in athletics, women surfers were widely known to surf every bit as well or better than men. This principle is confirmed by traditional stories of the surfing prowess of the goddess Hi’iakaikapoliopele, hereafter identified as Hiʻiaka. She is the youngest and most favored sister of Pele, the well-known Hawaiian goddess of fire, lightning, wind, volcanoes, and new land.

There are several references to river surfing by Native Hawaiians in M. Puakea Nogelmeier’s 2006 translation of The Epic Tale of Hi’iakaikapoliopele. This version of the legend was originally published as a daily series in the Hawaiian-language newspaper Ka Na’i Aupuni in 1905 and 1906. In one passage, Hiʻiaka fondly remembers men and women surfing the river mouth in Hilo on Hawai’i Island. In several of her chants calling for the death of the ruler of Maui, ’Olepau, she references “The women who surf the river channels”. In an excerpt specific to the Waimea River on Oʻahu, Hiʻiaka calls out to Waimea overseer and mystical shape shifter Pili’a'ama, addressing him explicitly as “Surfer of the river mouth of Waimea”.

In his meticulously documented 2011 book, Hawaiian Surfing: Traditions from the Past, historian John Clark describes six traditional surfing sports performed by Native Hawaiians going back to antiquity, one of which is river surfing. The section dedicated to river surfing is based largely on passages Clark gleaned from nineteenth and twentieth century Hawaiian-language newspapers and English-language period literature. Per Clark, river surfing was most commonly referred to as heʻe puʻe wai. Heʻe meaning to slide; puʻe referring to turbulence; and wai indicating the medium of fresh water. Therefore, the name heʻe puʻe wai describes surfing on agitated fresh water.

The Hawaiian-English Dictionary of Surfing Terms in Clark’s Hawaiian Surfing quotes multiple historical river surfing narratives. The tenor and sophisticated wordplay of the quotations throughout this book cannot be rightly paraphrased. Citations specific to heʻe puʻe wai warrant a firsthand read by serious students of the sport’s history. For those interested in something a bit more abridged, Clark also narrates an overview of traditional Hawaiian surfing practices in Ka’ahele Ma Waikīkī, a Hawai’i Department of Education on-line presentation on the surfing history of Waikīkī. A brief synopsis of Hawaiian river surfing begins at approximately 25 minutes into the presentation.

Clark’s research confirms that Native Hawaiians river surfed on not less than four of the Hawaiian Islands. In addition to the Waimea River and elsewhere on Oʻahu, they were known to surf the Wailua River on Kauaʻi, Wailuku and Waiohonu rivers on Maui, and the Wailuku, Honoliʻi, Papaʻikou, and Waipiʻo rivers on the island of Hawaiʻi. They dug channels through dune barriers at river mouths and surfed the resulting waves. The most notable of these was at the mouth of Oʻahu’s Waimea River.

Rainstorms in Hawaiʻi can generate vast quantities of runoff, and under certain circumstances standing waves form where flooded rivers meet the sea. This is alluded to in the Hilo heʻe puʻe wai memories of Hiʻiaka from the afore mentioned Epic Tale. Clark quotes a version of the tale from Ka Hoku o ka Pakipika, a Hawaiian-language periodical dated March 20, 1862, in which Hiʻiaka visualizes people river surfing in distant Hilo where, “It was raining and the water came streaming down, forming river waves that everyone surfed just like one does the waves of the ocean.” He also cites an 1822 journal entry by early missionary William Ellis describing Hawaiians surfing the “agitated water” at the mouths of flooding rivers. Ellis adds that when the king, queen, or high chiefs were river surfing there, the common people were not allowed nearby.

Clark shares an English-language account of river surfing written by John Cummins, a member of Hawaiian royalty. In the article that appeared in the September 1913 issue of Mid Pacific Magazine, Cummins reminisces about an 1877 tour he took around the island of Oʻahu with Queen Emma, wife of the Hawaiian Nation’s sovereign King Kamehameha IV. He describes how he was determined to “give Her Majesty and her party a view of this ancient sport”, alluding to river surfing’s earliest beginnings. Cummins directed a team of men to dig a trench to open a beach pond (muliwai) at the mouth of the Puha River in Waimanalo, Oʻahu. Two women and two men demonstrated their river surfing abilities for the Queen and her party on that day. The most skilled among them body surfed back and forth on a wave face while holding up the tip of his malo, a traditional garment worn by Hawaiian men.

Numerous references to heʻe puʻe wai appear by name in newspapers and period writings of the nineteenth and twentieth century. However, Clark notes that no detailed historical accounts are known to exist describing exactly how heʻe puʻe wai was performed. For example, nobody knows for certain which surf-craft or riding styles Native Hawaiians preferred for the sport. How Hawaiians river surfed no doubt depended largely on what was most appropriate for the location, conditions, surfers’ abilities, and prior to the lifting of laws and restrictions called kapu, a surfer’s social class.

Clark details how early Hawaiians surfed ocean waves using their bodies (pae poʻo) and rode at least four different types of traditional wooden surfboards (papa heʻe nalu). There were fourteen- to sixteen-feet long surfboards, which historically were reserved for royalty and those of noble birth (papa olo). There were similarly long, but thinner nine- to sixteen-feet long boards (papa kī koʻo). These two types of larger boards were so heavy and long that it took great strength and skill to ride them. They had to be angled on takeoffs, hence they were primarily ridden on large cresting ocean swells and across the shoulders or softer sections, away from the breaking parts of waves. Smaller surfboards ranged from between six- and nine-feet in length (papa alaia). Smaller still were boards ranging between three- and six-feet (papa liʻiliʻi; later dubbed pae pō or paepoʻo, and in modern times called paipo). Skilled surfers rode papa alaia and papa liʻiliʻi on steep and powerfully breaking waves.

All papa heʻe nalu could be and were ridden prone (kipapa), sitting (noho), kneeling (kukuli), drop-kneed (hoʻokahi kuli), and standing (kū). Considering that surfing was the national pastime of the Hawaiian people for centuries, it is highly likely that they selected the most appropriate surf-craft and applied all riding styles to heʻe puʻe wai. That ancestral riding styles have been passed down through the generations is still apparent in Hawaiʻi where modern wave riders, particularly the bodyboarders, push their craft to the highest levels of extreme performance riding kipapa, hoʻokahi kuli, and kū.

In the absence of detailed historical descriptions of Hawaiian river surfing practices, Clark assembled accounts from respected Hawai’i watermen of the last quarter of the twentieth century. These include professional bodyboarders Mike Stewart and Hauoli Reeves, surfer Robbie Rath, whitewater kayaker Chris Stelfox, and City and County of Honolulu (CCH) Ocean Safety Division Officers (aka lifeguards) Mark Dombroski, Jeff Okuyama, and Bryan Phillips. Their uniquely Hawaiian Islands perspectives provide a framework to bridge river surfing’s past and present. Heʻe puʻe wai origin stories in Hawaiʻi confirm that the ancestral knowledge and methods of the past were forwarded from surfers of bygone eras to those of the current generation.

Clark notes that wide-ranging construction of irrigation ditches and flood control projects in the late 1800s and early 1900s reduced the flow capacity of many rivers and streams in Hawaiʻi. This occurred in parallel with an overall decline of the surfing sports as a national pastime. Very few rivers and streams known historically for heʻe puʻe wai still produce surfable waves. There are clear exceptions, most notably the mouth of the Waimea River on Oʻahu.

A variation of a surfing sport historically popular at Waimea Bay was called wai pu‘uone. Early Hawaiians would ride the ocean waves up the steep beach face on their boards, overtop the berm, and ride the tumbling billow downslope into the muliwai. Depending on natural variations in the size of the berm or the size of the surging waves, the experience could be seriously perilous.

Clark highlights another water sport diversion by early Hawaiians, who would put into rivers and ride their boards down-current. Where rivers meet the sea, the lighter fresh water rises up and over the denser salt water. Rivers drop their sediment loads and sand bars take shape. Roiling eddies and standing waves form, making river mouths an especially popular place for early Hawaiians to ride the “agitated water”.

In Hawaiian Surfing, surfer and longtime North Shore resident Robbie Rath describes how he and his neighborhood pals would ride the draining Waimea muliwai into the ocean on inflatable Converse surf mats in the early 1960s. Such examples of down-current river sports in Hawaiʻi predate the beginnings of the sport of river boarding, where modern day adventurers lay prone on specially built bodyboards and use their feet or fins for momentum and steering as they float down rivers and surf river waves.

Legendary Hawaiian big wave surfer, assiduous life saver, and heroic Polynesian voyager Eddie Aikau was an avid river surfer on Oʻahu’s Waimea River. He was a renowned surfing professional and big wave surfer, a finalist in many international surf contests, and notably won the 1977 Duke Kahanamoku Invitational Surfing Championship at Sunset Beach.

Eddie was the first CCH Ocean Safety and Lifeguard Officer for Oʻahu’s North Shore. From 1967 until 1971 he patrolled the beaches between Sunset and Haleʻiwa. His base of operations was at Waimea Bay, and not a single life was lost during his tenure there. He guarded at Waimea until 1978, when he valiantly lost his life paddling a surfboard for help after the Hawaiian voyaging canoe Hōkūleʻa, on which he crewed, floundered in high seas.

Eddie’s younger brother Clyde Aikau joined him as an CCH Ocean Safety and Lifeguard Officer at Waimea Bay in 1969. Clyde competed in multiple prestigious surf contests, placing in the Juniors Division at the 1966 Makaha International Surfing Championship, winning the Duke Kahanamoku Invitational Surfing Championship in 1973, and notably taking first in the inaugural Quicksilver Eddie Aikau Big Wave Surf Contest at Waimea Bay in 1986. “Uncle Clyde” has been a contestant in every “Eddie” big wave contest held to date. As of 2020 he is still surfing big Waimea at 70 years of age. Like his elder brother, Clyde Aikau was an ardent river surfer on the Waimea River. He helped to spark the late 20th century resurgence of this ancestral Hawaiian sport.

The Aikau family’s (ʻohana) connection to the Waimea Valley on Oʻahu is deeply ancestral. The Aikau’s trace their genealogy through Hewahewa, who served as high priest (Kahuna Nui) to King Kamehameha I, as well as his successor Kamehameha II. Hewahewa was highborn circa 1774 on the pre-unified kingdom of the island of Hawaiʻi. He was educated as a kahuna, the foremost authorities or experts serving the Hawaiian nobility as priests, scholars, philosophers, healers, instructors, and military advisors. When Kamehameha I unified the Hawaiian Islands, he granted Hewahewa control of Waimea Valley on Oʻahu, a very powerful position in the kingdom. Hewahewa was pivotal in the absolution of the ancient Hawaiian kapu system, and in the founding of Christianity in the Hawaiian Islands.

When Clyde Aikau was asked whether he, Eddie, and other late 1960s and early 1970s Waimea River surfers were body surfing (pae poʻo), riding paipo boards (bodyboards hadn’t been invented yet), or using conventional surfboards he noted, “We were riding the river with anything we could get our hands on.” When asked if they included standing kū style in their heʻe puʻe wai repertoire, he replied, “Right off the bat!”

In the above photograph, 70-year-old Uncle Clyde is shown checking conditions before paddling out at Waimea Bay on January 10, 2020. He is sitting on the berm at the eastern end of the beach, where a semblance of a keyhole exists that surfers use for getting through the monstrous shorebreak. His right arm is wrapped securely around his Chuck Andrus Waimea big wave surfboard. The surfer loosening up is Ha’a Aikau, Clyde’s son. According to Roger Seibel, the surfer standing in the picture, Ha’a exemplifies the next generation of Aikau ʻohana chargers. On this day, Ha’a made it out into the lineup while they were still paddling out. He then afforded his Dad the grandstand view as he spun into and made one of the bigger set waves of the day.

Uncle Clyde Aikau is the owner of Aikau Pure Hawaiian Surf Academy in Waikiki, and he was recently recognized as a “Waikiki Surf Legend” by the Outrigger Duke Paoa Kahanamoku Foundation. For more info, go to the Aikau Surf Academy Facebook page.

Mark Dombroski was a regular on the beach at Waimea Bay in the late 1960s. He began lifeguarding at Waimea Bay in 1974, after he was strongly encouraged to tryout by Eddie Aikau. In Dombroski’s account in Clark, he notes that most of the time the lifeguards of the 1970s did not go out of their way to open the river up as is so often done these days. When the river opened naturally, they took full advantage of the river waves that formed. Dombroski describes how he and Eddie would body surf the Waimea River waves together.

Dombroski says that riding the draining river didn’t really become a thing to do until around 1972 or 73. Even then it was mostly about timing, since nobody was going out of their way to open the muliwai. When it naturally overtopped, they would take advantage of the river’s surfing potential mostly by body surfing there. He added that it was the bodyboarders that really kicked off the modern river surfing renaissance on the Waimea River, when they began to regularly open up the muliwai in the mid-1980s.

According to Dombroski in Clark, and the recollections of Brian Bielmann, Mark Cunningham, Danny Kim, Ben Severson, Mike Stewart, and Bodo Van Der Leeden, the foremost early bodyboarders on the Waimea River in the 1980s included: Pat Caldwell, Kahi Ching, Dave Cuniff, John Galera, Danny Kim, Aka Lyman, Dean Marzol, Moses Mokuahi, Jay Reale, Hauoli Reeves, Bert Rickard, Keith Sasaki, Ben Severson, and Mike Stewart. Although they are equally deserving, it is impracticable to tell all of their stories here. Others deserving recognition have likely been overlooked. Perhaps other authors will take an interest in chronicling their stories and help to fill in these discrepancies.

In July of 1986, wetsuits and outdoor products manufacturer Body Glove International took select members of their professional team of surfers and bodyboarders to Wyoming to river surf the Lunch Counter wave. Among those on the 1986 trip were O’ahu bodyboarders Danny Kim and Ben Severson. Kim had won the US National Bodyboarding Championships in 1985. Severson was the reigning Bodyboarding World Champion in 1986, having won the Morey Boogie Bodyboard Pro World Championship at Pipeline that January. When Severson and Kim returned home to O’ahu, they readily applied their river surfing talents to the standing waves on the Waimea River. (For the rest of the story, pictures, and more river surfing history, see: The History of River Surfing in North America: 1975 to 2000 by Don Piburn).

Ben Severson made refining bodyboard equipment and design his calling throughout his professional career. He innovated and promoted some of the bestselling bodyboards of his competitive era, and in time those of his own brand, Ben Severson Designs. Severson lifeguarded from 1983 to 1988, quit to bodyboard professionally in 1988, and returned to CCH Ocean Safety and Lifeguard Services in 2002.

Danny Kim elevated standing kū to new heights both at home on Oʻahu and while competing in the 1980′s Pro Bodyboard Tour. That his competitive repertoire included riding kū helped to catalyze his win at the 1985 US Bodyboarding Championships. Kim began lifeguarding in 1992, becoming a full-time employee in 1998. Now Lieutenant Danny Kim has logged over 27 years with the CCH Ocean Safety and Lifeguard Services Division. Kim is also a professional photographer, and for more go to Danny Kim Photography’s Facebook page.

Hauoli Reeves was a bodyboarding pioneer and aerial innovator, whose lip launches, airs, and big rolls were legendary in professional bodyboarding. For more on Hauoli Reeves including photos and videos, see @hauolivision on Instagram.

Reeves doesn’t recall precisely when he began to bodyboard the Waimea River, but he estimates it was in 1985 or 1986. At the time he was roommates with Ben Severson across from Ke Iki Beach on Oʻahu’s North Shore, was on the Morey Boogieboards Pro-Team with Mike Stewart, and was affable with most of that era’s bodyboarding pioneers. Reeve’s account in Hawaiian Surfing suggests he first heard about riding the Waimea River from Clark Little. He notes that Clark, his older brother professional surfer and big wave rider Brock Little, and fellow professional surfer Ronnie Burns were already river surfing there.

Reeves tells how one of his better 1980s heʻe puʻe wai sessions was on a day when the muliwai was topping out, the tide was low, and the river was draining at maximum capacity. He stationed himself on the Sunset Beach (east) side of the channel as a remarkable river wave began to take shape. He says a big part of the fun was completely monopolizing the wave while his companions, including recurring contest competitor Mike Stewart, were stuck on the Beach Park side trying to engineer a way to get safely across the raging torrent.

By Reeve’s telling, the late Ronnie Burns was hands-down the best board surfer on the Waimea River at the time. Burns was a soft-spoken and unpretentious pro-surfer, best known for charging big Pipeline and Waimea Bay. He was equally recognized for launching aerials at Rocky Point, but perhaps less so for ripping the standing waves of the Waimea River. Matt Warshaw of the Encyclopedia of Surfing called him “the most complete North Shore surfer”. Sadly, Ronnie Burns passed away in the summer of 1990 of hyperthermia (heat stroke) following an off-road motorcycle accident on the North Shore.

Brock Little made a name for himself surfing big waves at Waimea in the late 1980s. This led to an invitation and near victory at the 1990 Quicksilver in Memory of Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational Contest at Waimea Bay. Brock parleyed his fearless reputation into a career as a stunt coordinator in as many as 60 movies and television shows. He mentored young surfers and passed along his love for surfing and the ocean as a CCH Ocean Safety Officer on the North Shore, and through his involvement with the North Shore Lifeguard Association, Waimea Bay Lifeguard Association, and the Hawaiian Water Patrol. Brock Little passed away from liver cancer in 2016. He was only 48 years old.

Dombroski notes that all CCH Ocean Safety Officers at Waimea Bay recognize the potential for impact injuries posed by surfboards. Perhaps for that reason, he never recalls seeing Brock Little riding a surfboard on the Waimea River. Brock’s younger brother Clark notes that they all rode bodyboards on the Waimea River, but he recalls that they were riding conventional surf boards as well.

Consistent with Dombroski’s descriptions, Clark Little notes that back in the mid-1980s he, Brock, and select others began to regularly dig channels to open up the Waimea River for heʻe puʻe wai. He added that waiting for the muliwai to overtop naturally was everyone’s preference. It not only saved a whole lot of digging, but the waves were better because the pond was full to capacity. Stewart added that there was a lot more sand at Waimea Bay in the mid-1980s than there is today. He referred to opening the channel back then as a “big dig”, adding that it often took several days to complete.

Clark Little pioneered board surfing in massive Waimea Bay shorebreak back in the late 1980s and early 1990s. He later combined his hard-earned wave knowledge with a new found passion for surf photography. His “Shorebreak Photography” is celebrated globally in major exhibitions, at premiere venues, and in leading publications (clarklittlephotography.com).

Mike Stewart is a founding pioneer of the sport of bodyboarding, has won a record nine World Bodyboarding Championships, charges gargantuan waves, is a repeat champion bodysurfer in one of the heaviest waves on the planet, has run a premier professional event at Pipeline for over two decades, and founded, owns, and operates Science Bodyboards. Stewart’s account in Clark references that in addition to being an early Waimea River bodyboarding pioneer, he has river surfed on the mainland United States, Australia, and South Africa. In the interview for this article, he added that some of those experiences involving set-ups similar to the Waimea River. He alluded to a particular extreme river surfing experience at Pismo Beach in California, describing the conditions there as “huge and gnarly”. Nevertheless, he maintains that the Waimea River offers the best and most consistent standing waves of its kind on the planet.

Stewart credits multiple features unique to Waimea Bay for its river wave quality. The muliwai has two main sources: one fresh water from upriver and the other salt water from the ocean. Winter is the rainy season on Oʻahu, with showers regularly saturating the length and breadth of the Waimea ahupuaʻa, the land division that stretches from the mountains to the sea. Each winter successive storms march across the North Pacific. Their high winds generate massive north swells that march into the Hawaiian Islands. Mammoth waves rush up and over the Waimea Bay beach face, filling the pond from the ocean. Cyclic winter swells move the sand, and often reseal the opening not long after it has been breached. This allows the muliwai to refill for the next heʻe puʻe wai session.

In Clark, Stewart explains that Waimea River waves are especially well suited to bodyboarding. The waves are steep, and reach ideal proportions when they are roughly the width of from one to three adjacent cars. He adds that softer bodyboard models work best, because they can be molded to the curvature of the wave face. This allows bodyboarders to draw lines on the face of the wave that standing surfers on rigid boards cannot.

Professional surfer Steve Machin river surfed the Lunch Counter wave on the Snake River over multiple trips to Wyoming in 1983 and 1984. In 1986 he was featured river surfing the Lunch Counter in a nationally released soft drink television advertisement. (For the rest of the story and more river surfing history, see: The History of River Surfing in North America: 1975 to 2000 by Don Piburn.

In 1988, Machin moved to the island of O‘ahu, where he parlayed his heavy water experience and ocean safety skills into a position lifeguarding at Waimea Bay. In time, he was invited to join the Hawaiian Water Patrol, working Water Patrol in eight of the nine Eddie Aikau Big Wave Invitational Contests at Waimea Bay. Machin principally applied his short board surfing skills on the Waimea River.

Kim and others shared how beginning in the late 1980s, the North Shore bodyboarding crew began opening the Waimea Bay muliwai during the contest period of the annual international Morey Boogie Bodyboard Pro Championships. The event, held at the nearby Banzai Pipeline, was the world championships of bodyboarding at the time. It ran from 1982 to 1994, with the single exception of 1985 when it was not held. Having the planet’s apex bodyboarders and select North Shore surfers collectively ripping the Waimea River helped to galvanize the respect for Hawai‘i river surfing that carries through to the present day.

Award winning surf photographer Brian Bielmann took the above photo of a late 1980s who’s-who in professional bodyboarding on the banks of the Waimea River. According to Bielmann, and consistent with Kim’s above description, it was taken following a river surfing session organized during the Morey Boogie Bodyboard Pro Championships contest period. The waters in the foreground highlight how the Waimea River waves cease to break once the angle of decent between the draining muliwai and ocean are roughly equalized.

Young people have always taken full advantage of the Waimea River’s surf potential. In Clark, Bryan Phillips describes how he started surfing Waimea River while he was still attending Middle School in nearby Kahuku. Chris Peterson spoke of how, in the late 1980s, he and his Wailua High School classmates would monitor the Waimea River and collectively open the channel to river surf when conditions were suitable.

After 20 years of surfing, competing as a semi-professional, and honing his shaping skills in the islands, Peterson moved to Idaho in 2006 to help care for his grandmother. Not long afterwards, he began to apply his surfing and shaping skills to river waves throughout the Intermountain West.

The Hawaiʻi river surfing renaissance in the late twentieth century was not restricted to the island of O’ahu. Long-serving Ocean Safety Officer Jeff Okuyama’s account in Clark describes growing up in the neighborhood adjacent to the Wailuku River on Hawai’i Island in the early 1990s. A portion of the river known as “Boiling Pots” was the neighborhood children’s (keiki) playground. They knew every waterfall, wave, and hole at all river levels and moods. When conditions were suitable, they would ride bodyboards and surfboards on standing waves that formed there. Sometimes they would tie a rope to an upstream rock and hold on while they river surfed the standing waves.

What should be evident is that a common vocational leaning for many late twentieth century Hawai’i river surfers includes ocean safety. As Kim puts it, “It made perfect sense to get a job that involved the ocean, because I loved being there so much.” O‘ahu has roughly 227 miles of coastline. The CCH Ocean Safety and Lifeguard Services Division is the principle first responder for beach and nearshore waters. Just a few of the duties that lifeguards are responsible for include ocean/water rescue and preventive measures, emergency medical first response, dispatched mobile patrol, public education, outreach, and injury prevention programs.

Retired Ocean Safety Captain Bodo Van Der Leeden began lifeguarding on the North Shore in 1976. He worked alongside Eddie and Clyde Aikau, Mark Dombroski, and the majority of the Ocean Safety Officers featured in this article. Fortunately, Captain Bodo is an avid photographer, having taken many of the photographs of the Waimea River that appear in this article.

Ocean Safety Officers are in the business of risk management. According to Van Der Leeden, as well as per Dombroski’s and Phillips’s accounts in Clark, a few of the many hazards inherent to heʻe puʻe wai on the Waimea River include the potential to be buried under tons of sluffing sands, dangerous hydraulics, pathogenic water-borne micro-organisms, and the risk of impact injuries posed by logs, debris, surfboards, and bottom features.

Dombroski and Van Der Leeden explain that at maximum capacity the draining muliwai cuts quickly through the sand of the beach face. As the walls of the descending river banks grow taller and steeper, they become unstable. Vibrations from the rushing water or the movement of people walking above cause them to collapse in lesser and greater slumps. If large portions of the walls collapse on people, they can be buried under tons of sand. Sand burials are a common concern on beaches worldwide, and lifeguards receive specialized training on how to safely extract beachgoers who become buried under the sand. The preferred solution is to take preventative actions that avoid anyone being buried in the first place, thus Ocean Safety at Waimea monitor and employ crowd-control measures to prevent such catastrophes.

Reeves speaks of a career changing injury and near drowning that he suffered as a result of catastrophic sand collapse on the Waimea River. On that day the muliwai was full to capacity and running at maximum flow. He completed his ride on a good-sized wave and was attempting to scale the by then towering sand bank to get back to the head of the wave train. His movement caused the sand wall to collapse, and he was swept into the current. He describes being buried under an unconsolidated sand and water mix similar to quicksand. He muscled to the surface and pulled himself free, then attempted to scale the bank again. It collapsed, and once again he had to extricate himself. In his third attempt to climb out, a massive amount of sand let go. He was pushed out into the river atop the slump. When the slump coalesced, his leg was trapped in the sand. Water rushed over the massive slide, and his body was forced downriver hyperextending his knee before he could pull it free. The river pushed him into a sizable Waimea shorebreak, from which he literally had to crawl his way out. The injured leg would not support his weight, and he had to be carried up the beach.

The Waimea River becomes especially treacherous when a big swell is running. The draining muliwai dispassionately spits whoever loses their feet straight into waves breaking in perilously shallow water. Although people like Clark Little and select North Shore locals display the unique ability to handle massive Waimea shorebreak, river surfers without their wave knowledge and littoral experience are well advised to wait for calmer days.

Dombroski and Van Der Leeden related two main types of hydraulic risks at Waimea: One where the draining river meets the sea and the other immediately under the standing waves. The gradient lessens where the river and the ocean meet. As the river widens, it drops its sediment load and spreads out. This often creates a sand ledge with a downriver void, or what river runners call a “hole”. Holes can trap objects or people in recirculating hydraulics. During big swells these holes can form right where the shorebreak is detonating into the shallows, increasing the hazards. In Clark, Dombroski proposes that rather than the natural reaction to fight your way to the surface, swimming down under the hydraulic is a good strategy. For this article he spoke of his own experience of being stuck at the bottom of a hole himself, and how next to impossible it was to break free. He added that the best escape is to have Ocean Safety on duty to initiate a rescue if necessary.

The other common hydraulic on the Waimea River forms right under the standing waves themselves. Dombroski references multiple incidences of surfers becoming pinned on the bottom by the wave hydraulic over the years. If nobody sees them disappear beneath the cloudy water, the river surfer could drown within feet but completely out of sight of the riverside crowds. The lifeguards have to be especially vigilant, and rescuing a pinned river surfer is especially dangerous in and of itself. Dombroski in Clark and Van Der Leeden referenced an incident where North Shore lifeguard Kerry Atwood (pictured below and with Brock Little several images above) observed a Waimea River surfer disappear and become pinned under the full force of the standing wave hydraulic. Atwood leapt into the water column of the wave and was able to lift the rider free of the bottom.

Everything on land eventually flows to the ocean. The CCH does its best to keep beaches and nearshore areas free of debris that could be hazardous to beachgoers. Lifeguards search for and mark unsafe objects that wash or are thrown into the Waimea muliwai. This includes cars, engine parts, bicycles, construction debris, and other refuse. The CCH brings in workers to remove objects marked by the lifeguards, as well as heavy equipment to pull out larger rubble when required.

Despite Ocean Safety’s continuing efforts to eliminate all known dangers to beach goers, in 2011 large fragments of concrete emerged from beneath the sand at Waimea Bay. One theory is that they were remnants from a long-gone railroad trestle that crossed the river back in the 1940s. They might also be remnants from military fortifications built on the beach during World War II. Long-time North Shore resident Larry Luehrs spoke of lingering wreckage from industrial sand mining operations at Waimea, which was used for among other purposes to create beaches at Waikīkī. Concrete remains mostly turn up when the sand is washed away by the ocean waves, or when the draining muliwai exposes them. There was at least one incidence of a Waimea river surfer being impaled and suffering severe lacerations on his leg from a rusted spear-like rebar associated with these dangerous artifacts.

Phillips in Clark details the ideal time to open the muliwai for heʻe puʻe wai. He notes that the best waves are produced when the water levels are at its maximum capacity and the beach face is higher than the pond. He suggests the grasses on the banks of the muliwai are the gauge for when it’s ready to open. Stewart in Clark references a low rock retaining wall by the highway bridge that local river surfers use as a marker for when the river is ready to open. Ocean Safety Officer Jesse King spoke of his method of placing a stick at the water’s edge to measure the rising muliwai.

Reeves in Clark mentions the importance of opening the muliwai at low tide. This is when the beach is at its widest, creating a superior angle of decent as the river cuts down through the beach face. With CCH Ocean Safety’s collective responsibility (kuleana) to protect people in all nearshore waters, the Ocean Safety Officers on duty at Waimea must factor in water levels, ocean swell, crowds, adequate lifeguard coverage, and other variables, and only then make the call to allow river surfers to open up the river or not.

Roads and infrastructure in Waimea Valley are vulnerable to flooding whenever the muliwai grows too large. On occasion the CCH must act to open the muliwai with heavy equipment to prevent destructive flooding from occurring upriver, especially when heavy rains are in the forecast. Lifeguards keep everyone away from the river while the heavy equipment is operating, but river surfers can sometimes reap the resulting waves if the equipment is pulled safely back in time.

CCH Ocean Safety regularly posts signs along the banks of the Waimea muliwai and elsewhere discouraging people from swimming due to the health risks associated with Leptospirosis. So called “Lepto” is caused by a microscopic spirochete-corkscrew-shaped bacterium-called Leptospira interrogans. People become infected by swimming or wading in freshwater ponds, streams, puddles, or mud contaminated with the urine, blood, or tissues of infected animals. Open cuts or abrasions are a common way these bacteria infect people, but any orifice with soft tissue like the mouth, nose and eyes invite these nasty pathogens to invade the human body. A number of Waimea River surfers have been infected with this debilitating disease over the years. For more information, here’s what the Hawai‘i Department of Health has to say about Lepto.

Lest we overlook the ocean’s principal apex predator, Waimea River surfers cannot completely disregard the risk of sharks. Backed up fresh water often contains animal remains. Scavenger species, including Tiger and other large sharks, actively seek out rivers and streams newly discharged into the sea. They are drawn there to scavenge off of any dead animals that might be expelled. This makes the mouths of rivers or streams in Hawai‘i, a less than ideal place for river surfers to find themselves abruptly flushed into the ocean.

Machin and Van Der Leeden shared how on occasions, when big waves were in the forecast, lifeguards would proactively open the channel to speed the flooded pond’s safe discharge. To further minimize the challenges of guarding the draining pond, they occasionally opened the channel up discreetly during the night. They would pull the lifeguard trucks down onto the sand and use their spot lights to illuminate their work. As the pond drained and river waves formed, some divided their time between guarding their peers and surfing the Waimea River at night under the lights.

As for my own experience surfing the Oʻahu’s Waimea River in 2019, I found that video clips cannot do justice to the drama, energy, and talent that surrounded me. There were commercial photographers, professional videographers, and phone wielding tourists by the score lining the channel margins. Multiple drones hovered and dodged about overhead capturing the action. Lifeguards were kept busy managing the crowds, watching out for river surfers’ safety, and still keeping an unblinking eye on all of the people anywhere near or in the ocean.

As the current cut down through the sand, the steepening margins became repeatedly unstable. The sand settled gradually; then suddenly whole sections would give way in massive slumps. It was easy to see the potential for one or possibly many people to be buried, and how quickly affairs could turn life-threatening. The huge volume of sediment had no time to compact, so cued-up surfers were often thigh deep in unconsolidated sand. Once, I had to prompt a father focusing entirely too much on the screen of his phone, to pull his one-year-old back from the edge. He had propped his keiki up on the rim, when a crack formed immediately beneath signaling that the whole section was about to give way.

Each time a bank collapsed the added sand transformed the waves. Perfect peaks emerged, broke for minutes, and just as suddenly morphed into stacks of faceless white water. Whoever was up and riding was forced to adjust, wipeout, or get blown downriver. This was winter on the North Shore, and there was a sizable Waimea shorebreak to contend with. Those who fell and failed to get their feet back under them were washed out into it.

Professional surfers Jamie O’Brien and Kelly Slater must have been on somebody’s social media feed, as they turned up to assist in the final phases of the excavation. One particularly moving part of the whole affair was that everyone, from top-ranked professional surfers to total grommets, got their turn. I would not describe the vibe as mellow, but because most of the surfers and bodyboarders lived on the North Shore, there was a sense of community and waves were shared.

Admittedly the rides were short for everyone, as the river showed no favors. However, it was refreshing to see big-name surfers giving way to the neighborhood keiki, so that they too could experience the thrill of heʻe puʻe wai just like their kūpuna. Depending on how it is punctuated or used in conversation, the word kūpuna means one’s recent and distant ancestors, honored elders with greater life experience, or the starting point or process of growth. For those keiki on that particular day on the Waimea River, it meant all of those things.

Acknowledgements

I want to personally thank (mahalo) Clyde Aikau, Robert Beck, Brian Bielmann, Mark Cunningham, Mark Dombroski, John Galera, Danny Kim, Clark Little, Larry Luehrs, Seal Morgan, M. Puakea Nogelmeier, Chris Peterson, Hauoli Reeves, Roger Seibel, Ben Severson, Steve Machin, and Ben Young for their insights, guidance, ideas, permissions, and suggestions (manaʻo). Mahalo Jesse King for sharing your manaʻo and pictures. Mahalo nui Bodo Van Der Leeden for your stories, edits, and for so willingly sharing so many of your amazing photographs. They helped make the article what it is. I especially want to mahalo John Clark, who responded to this stranger’s request for help, edited my drafts, made referrals, forwarded pictures, and generously shared his sapient manaʻo throughout this project. Lastly I want to mahalo Phil B. and the editorial team of Riverbreak for morphing the components of this article into something truly special.

Author’s Bio

Don Piburn is a surfer, ’70s outlaw skateboarder, ’80s backcountry snowboarder, and a late ’80s Snake River surfer. He moved to O’ahu in the early ’90s, where he completed a 35-year career teaching infants, toddlers, and preschoolers with disabilities. This included decades in partnership and in the employ of native Hawaiian programs serving families and their youngest and most vulnerable keiki. Recently retired, he now regularly surfs O’ahu’ s varied waves, including those on the Waimea River. He fishes from and surfs his kayaks on windward reefs, and regularly hikes with his Hawai‘i born and raised wife, Janice.

Don Piburn river surfing Wyoming’s Lunch Counter rapid in 1991. (Photo: Seal Morgan)

Don Piburn; northwest swell at Jocko’s on Oahu’s North Shore in 2016. (Photo: John Galera)

Other Don Piburn articles at Riverbreak

• The History of River Surfing in North America: 1975 to 2000
• The Lunch Counter Trilogy Part 1: In the Beginning
• The Lunch Counter Trilogy Part 2: Camping, Big Waves, & Bikinis
• The Lunch Counter Trilogy Part 3: The World’s Eyes on River Surfing

More about: Don PiburnHistory of River SurfingRiver Surf HistorianRiver Surf HistoryRiver Surfing DocumentaryRiver Surfing HistoryRiver Surfing in HawaiiThe Birthplace of River SurfingThe Origins of River SurfingThe Roots of River Surfing

Brought to you by

Don Piburn Don Piburn is a surfer, '70s outlaw skateboarder, '80s backcountry snowboarder, and a late '80s Snake River surfer. He moved to O’ahu in the early '90s, where he completed a 35-year career teaching infants, toddlers, and preschoolers with disabilities. This included decades in partnership and in the employ of native Hawaiian programs serving families and their youngest and most vulnerable keiki. Recently retired, he now regularly surfs O’ahu’ s varied waves, including those on the Waimea River. He fishes from and surfs his kayaks on windward reefs, and regularly hikes with his Hawai‘i born and raised wife, Janice.

You may also like

The History of River Surfing in North America: 1975 to 2000 →