Wing Foiling In Crowded Surf Is A Nightmare

When even one lone wingfoiler starts zipping back and forth across an established surf peak, crowded or not, with a scythe-like blade beneath them at speeds exponential to those the rest of us humble, prone-paddling surf-going folk can attain with our unwebbed mitts, it becomes what will someday somewhere almost surely become a matter of life and death. You can say “Okay, boomer” to me all you like—I’m a millennial, I’ll have you know—but too many people are wingfoiling without ever even gleaning the very basics of surf etiquette and safety in the first place. And, as thrilling as this new thing most certainly is, it doesn’t gel with surfing. 

You can tell us you’re under control all you like, but you’re taking our lives in your hands when you zip back and forth across a peak three times at 20 knots and bail out before anyone ever has a chance to line up and catch it the old-fashioned way. This isn’t about outwitting our out-surfing one another, it is a simple matter of difference in speed—which, after all, is among the leading causes of accidents by land or sea, and there are enough out-of-control hazards out there as it is. Just the other day at my home break, I witnessed a wingfoiler pass within a few yards of me while checking his smart watch, perhaps replaying the GoPro footage he captured with his mouth. It felt akin to, say, being at the mercy of someone filling in their mascara or text messaging while driving.

But enough ranting. If we’re all going to get in each other’s way, where do we look for solutions in this sea of ever-varying, ever diversifying forms of surf-centric entertainment?

Let us look to Denmark, to Holland, those most civilized of modern cultures over yonder in the old world, where they have the good sense to separate cars from bikes. Who needs another one of those ghastly ghost bikes strung up to some signpost where some poor soul was forced to leave their earthly wares all because they were the ones who had the good sense to choose to not operate heavy machinery under the influence.

On the lighter side, maybe we look to fishing piers, where, naturally, anglers have priority, however good a sandbar may be breaking beside the pier. Does that mean that perhaps there comes a time when there’s a chance for surfers to sneak out for a few waves? Perhaps, but not when the surf is full of barbed steel hooks and pyramid sinkers.

And in the gravest of maritime grievances, look at what happened when power boats overtook sailboats? No body of water will ever be the same. Fortunately, we can find a way to avoid such a certain tragedy.

Even Stacy Peralta, of the original go-f-yourself Z-Boy surf and skate crew—poster children for adolescent arrogance—recently told me in passing, despite being a recent convert to foiling, “What I love about it the most is that it got me completely away from crowds because I can ride waves that surfers don't want. And I can have the most epic time on waves surfers don't want. That's the best part about it.”

In the end, if a Z-Boy can respect order in the lineup, whether it be by way of seniority, simple numbers, or limited maneuverability, then you can, too. Enjoy the wind, enjoy those open-ocean swells that never break and deliver miles-long runs down wind, jump that powerboat wake over and over again until you turn blue. It’s all yours. Until the very last sail-less, kite-less surfboard is mulched and buried, let it be known: The peak is ours.