I'm Goin' Surfin'

Venice Beach on one of its less-inviting days

The Pacific Ocean surf rolls into the SoCal coast with a presence more imposing than a hundred Harley riders cruising into Sturgis, South Dakota. Waves crash with an unrelenting ambition, lacking any regard for mere mortals. What the water does respect is the collection of several-ton boulders making up the Venice Breakwater. A breakwater, aptly-named, does just that: it breaks the force of incoming waves. It’s a coastal engineering structure consisting of large rocks and boulders grouped near or in the ocean to protect harbors and shores from beach erosion and other damages.

Waves crash against the Venice Breakwater at sunset

In the fabled West Los Angeles beach community of Venice, the breakwater is a byproduct of famous developer and conservationist Abbot Kinney’s desire to create canals mirroring those in Venice’s Italian namesake. His project to create the “Venice of America” opened in 1905, becoming a popular neighborhood and tourist destination.

The Venice Canals by night

In September 2023, I found myself taking up residence in Venice following a six-week stint in a Hawthorne Airbnb near the site of the Beach Boys’ childhood home. I had just recently moved to LA following grad-school to take a job as a junior copywriter at ad agency David&Goliath. While in Hawthorne, I spent my free moments driving down to Dockweiler Beach as often as I could to soak up the sun and bodysurf the waves of the Pacific Ocean blue. After exploring Venice and Santa Monica in search of a more permanent abode, Venice’s strikingly expansive beach and eclectic surf culture captivated me. I settled in a studio a 10-minute walk from the waves.

Sunrise outside my Venice studio

With a mere block-and-a-half of beach bungalows and art-deco style homes separating me from the beach, a restless voice began tugging at the shirt-tails of my mind: You should learn to surf. Friends and coworkers who spoke of it told wary tales of the difficulty inherent to surfing. Most of them eventually gave up. For me, this only inspired me more. Attaining anything worth having is usually difficult, I reminded myself. Several Youtube videos and local surf shop discussions later, I squeezed into a new wetsuit, and carried my brand-new 8-foot Gerry Lopez soft-top board out to the Venice Breakwater on a Saturday afternoon in October.

In my new wetsuit, about to take my "freshie" on its maiden voyage

The Breakwater’s effect creates a great environment to learn in because the lessened impact of the waves just south of it makes the water pool a bit somewhat, creating longer, more gradual waves rolling into shore following the larger ones. Catching the whitewater - the foamy aftermath of the larger breaking waves offshore - is the way to learn.

Surfers wade into the whitewater of the Venice Breakwater, while others wait for waves farther out

After swimming out farther than I should have the first time ever attempting to surf, however, I had a rude awakening while getting my bearings. Swim out far enough, even at the Breakwater, and you’ll come face-to-face with waves well-above your head. This isn’t exactly the wave pool at a water park, and you find out quickly that Mother Nature still runs the show. I bore the brunt of a snarling wave right in the face, which sent me reeling backward underwater in a 360-degree arc like a fidget spinner.

A wave crashing at Venice Beach similar to the one that ruthlessly greeted me

Realizing I was in over my head - literally and figuratively - I swam toward the shore to the whitewater - the bunny slope of surfing. I spent the rest of the day chasing the elusive beginner’s challenge of standing up on my surfboard while catching the dying momentum of the whitewater waves. I wasn’t alone, as many other beginners clad in wetsuits were doing the same - floating on their chests, facing the horizon, waiting for incoming waves to break into whitewater.

A surfer catches a wave at the Venice Breakwater while whitewater rolls in in the foreground

The key to learning how to stand up on a surfboard is to see the wave coming, then start turning by paddling on one side on your board, and be far enough in front of the wave that it crashes before it reaches you. By that time, hopefully you’re facing the shore, and as the wave settles into whitewater, you can paddle forward with it, catching what remains of its energy like a kite catches the wind. Then you face the challenge of lifting yourself up on the board while it’s moving with the whitewater, landing your feet on it and balancing your weight.​

Another surfer catches a wave at the Venice Breakwater

I laughed out loud the first time I caught the whitewater and stood up on my board because the feeling is otherworldly. It feels like you’re riding the literal life-force of the earth - an exhilarating and humbling experience. That day, I stayed out until sunset. After hours of standing up and riding whitewater for 10 seconds here and there before crashing back into the water, the tide settled and the waves calmed down. ​

Sunset at Venice Beach

As daylight waned, I felt comfortable enough to swim back out to join the line of surfers waiting for any last real waves. We sat on our boards facing the pastel pinks and oranges cast upward by the setting sun, moving up and down with the ever-present rhythm of the ocean. Supremely content with my day of learning to surf, eventually I swam back to shore, unzipped the top of my wetsuit, and walked back to my studio, surfboard under arm. I felt like a true Californian. I don’t know if Abbot Kinney envisioned people using his Breakwater for learning to ride waves well-over a hundred years after constructing it, but with my wetsuit giving me year-round freedom, I intend to keep surfing and seeking out that blissful feeling only Mother Nature can give.