Fast forward to Winter 2005
We had outgrown the small wind waves of Reef Bay and had graduated to the real stuff. Our favorite spot was on Tortola—it still is. This particular surf spot was famous not for its waves, but for the full moon psychedelic parties at the beach bar situated directly in front of the main break. On glassy days, sweet reggae rhythms would drift through the lineup, adding a unique Caribbean vibe to every session. Surfing here came at a price though. To get to Tortola we had to not only pay for gas but also, we needed to clear customs. Our parents supported our surfing but did not pay for our surf trips thus it was time to get to work.
I think I was 14 when I got a job as a hostess at a nearby restaurant. Marjie was waiting tables there and we were making good money for a couple of teens. We saved out money for gas, clearing customs, boardshorts, and surf trips. One night while opening a bottle of wine, water from the that day’s surf session poured out of my nose! Hard to explain that to my boss. Cheslea and I also worked at the legendary Trunk Bay slinging snorkel gear to tourist, the best part of the job was that when the surf was big the tours shut down. Marjie would sometimes pick us up off the beach on the way to Tortola.
Trunk Bay
Tortola
Surfing became our priority and getting better was the goal and three of us were constantly pushing each other in the water. When the waves were big and gnarly, and one of us caught a good one, it was game on—we shared a friendly kind of sister rivalry. Marjie was always the most charging of us three. To this day when she takes a super gnarly wipeout she comes up, flips her hair out of her face and laughs. It is kind of her signature move and anyone that surfs with her knows it! Not everyone was stoked about us surfing though, we caused a scene, constantly cheering and being silly in the water. You’ve probably heard about the pecking order in the lineup, right? Well, our trio was at the very bottom.
All the waves we surfed were shallow reef breaks and sometimes heavy. We began on the shoulder and probably spent a few years surfing on the inside. The locals either loved us or hated us. A few were kind enough to take us under their wing, and we began getting better and slowly moving our way up, gaining respect. It did not happen overnight; years and years of patience, resilience, and pleanty of wipeouts earned us our spot in the lineup.
Stay tuned for our next story “thumb’s out” and collection of our most hilarious inter island hitchhiking stories.
Surfer Groms Circa 2006? Zancudo, Costa Rica