Ken Bradshaw and Clyde Aikau were sitting in the lineup of a North Shore outer reef one day this winter, all by themselves. Clyde asked Bradshaw for his opinion on the Quiksilver/Eddie Aikau invitational, the big-wave contest that has been run just three times at Waimea Bay since it was conceived in 1985. "It's cool," Bradshaw said. "You know, it's Eddie's name. It's the Aikau family."
Clyde looked upset. "No, Ken," he said. "What do you really think?" Bradshaw paused for a moment. "You don't want to know what I really think." "Brah, we know each other a long time," said Clyde. "I want you to tell me." "Well," said Bradshaw, "I'll tell you what I've told other people. I think the second this contest comes to an end, the surf will come back. I don't know if this contest is right, because all it's done is overglorify and overcrowd Waimea Bay. That's how I honestly feel, Clyde."
Seething, Aikau paddled about a hundred yards away from Bradshaw and sat there, alone. "He was hurt," said Bradshaw. "He was upset I felt that way. I waited a little while and paddled over there. I told him I was sorry, that I didn't mean any disrespect to him or his family or to Eddie. I told him I'd always surf in the contest.
"But he asked me what I felt. And I think he needed to hear it. I think it's something he's been struggling with."
Bradshaw certainly isn't the first prominent surfer to lament the Quiksilver contest -- not for what it represents, but for what it created. Waimea was once the province of serious riders, gaining exposure only during the biggest, nastiest days. But with a $50,000 first prize and a furious drive from sponsors to get their surfers involved, Waimea turned into a circus. The place is a disgusting pig-pile on 15-foot days, filled with frauds and pretenders. Even at 20 feet, it is seriously overpopulated. Only on the 25-foot swells does the crowd diminish, because only a dozen or so surfers have a thirst for waves of that consequence.
The first Aikau was held in '86, and it was a thing of pure beauty. Clyde Aikau won the event, Brock Little had his unveiling as a big-wave surfer of the future, and such veterans as Mark Foo and Roger Erickson made their mark. Three winters passed before the proper conditions returned (consistent 20 feet with bigger sets), creating a stir of anxiety, but if anything, the Aikau of January 1990 was even better. Legends were made that day in some of the biggest, most beautiful Waimea ever witnessed, and quiet hero Keone Downing walked off with the title.
Since then, the Aikau contest has known only a fleeting moment -- a promising morning in December of '95. The contest got under way, with Little in the lead, only to be shut down at mid-day because the surf was diminishing. The event never resumed -- each of the competitors received a relatively small cash payment -- and it lay dormant throughout the past winter. One February day looked interesting (as it happened, it was the day Todd Chesser died on an outer reef near Leftovers), but the swell came from such an extreme-west origin, it didn't properly connect with Waimea.
Are the standards too strict? Is it worth waiting five years for the right day? "I'm not so sure," says Peter Cole, one of the Waimea pioneers of the late 1950s. "They keep saying it's not big enough, but on a whole bunch of days they didn't have it, the surf was every bit as good and big as some of the days we were glorifying ourselves on in past years. When it's 15-18 feet, you'll get a 20- or 25-foot wave that's actually rideable. When it's 25 to 30, not many waves are rideable. My best sessions were never on those days when it pushed the limits."
Then again, Waimea doesn't have the end-all reputation it once enjoyed in Hawaii. Surfers are challenging themselves on the outer reefs, and the advent of tow-in surfing has changed the scope of big-wave riding. An 18-footer at Waimea looks paltry in comparison to Laird Hamilton, Dave Kalama or Darrick Doerner at "Jaws" on Maui, being towed into 30-footers and carving up the face for a half-minute before the waves even break.
For those who study the evolution of big-wave riding, there was a defining moment during the last Aikau -- the half-Eddie, as it were. Hamilton and Doerner were at outside Backyards, towing each other into long, huge, indescribably perfect waves. And they stayed out there, even as the Aikau got under way. Two of the most prestigious invitees had chosen another path. "Obviously, I was concerned," Hamilton said recently. "I want to give honor to the Aikau family and help participate in the tribute that contest represents. But it's also a Quiksilver thing, which is difficut because we all have different sponsors and the Aikau contest should have nothing to do with that. I don't know, on certain days, Waimea will be the place to be. But that day was different."
"I feel the same way about the Aikaus," said Doerner. "I knew Eddie, worked with him. I totally respect (contest organizer) George Downing and the job he has to do. But it's a whole new frontier out there (on the outer reefs). We're not on an 18-foot wave with six other guys and going straight. What happens out there ... you can't even describe it.
Little is the Aikau contest's primary centerpiece. He was a budding legend as a teenager in '86. He rode the biggest wave, and got inside the biggest barrell, in '90. He was leading in '96. He's also getting into tow-in surfing at every opportunity.
"For me personally, I'm a lot less stressed than I used to be," Little says. "Before, it ruled my life. Everything I did revolved around the chance that it might happen. This year I could have missed it, and life would go on. If I'm around I'll be stoked, I'll try to win it. If they're gonna cancel it, that's fine, too. That would take some weight off my shoulders, spending all that time in mental preparation."
The Quiksilver people have no desire to cancel the Aikau, and in a way, that's proper. Even though we haven't seen it in a while, there's nothing quite like Waimea Bay in howling offshores and 25-foot surf. But the grumbling and disparate interests among the participants have to be disturbing to contest organizers.
"I think in a way, it's a good thing we didn't have it this year," says Keoni Watson. "At least during the period after Todd went down. I'm still kind of frazzled over the Chesser thing. He was a really good friend of mine. I wouldn't have been too stoked if they'd had it in February (the final month of the waiting period).
"I went bodysurfing the other day in some pretty gnarly Pupukea," Watson said. "And I couldn't stop thinking about Todd. It was freaky. Every time I dove under a wave, I got really scared. Chris (Malloy) said he was going through the same emotions. Always there, in the back of our minds." For the record, you might be interested to see how the list of Aikau invitees has changed over the years. Politics? Don't ask. You don't even want to know. Suffice it to say that the Aikau contest has all the right people, the top 15 or 20, and the rest of the field is a constantly debatable issue.
December, 1993
Off the list: Tom Curren, Gary Elkerton, Rabbit Bartholomew, Wes Laine, Martin Potter, Mark Richards, Shaun Tomson.
On: Sean Briley, Todd Chesser, Vetea David, Johnny Boy Gomes, Laird Hamilton, Barton Lynch, Kerry Terukina.
December, 1994
Off: Mark Foo, Marty Hoffman, Barton Lynch, Kerry Terukina, Takao Kuga, Eddie Rothman.
On: Charlie Walker, Tom Curren, Mike Parsons, Shane Dorian, Sunny Garcia, Kelly Slater
December, 1995
Off: Tom Curren, Roger Erickson, Hans Hedemann, Mickey Neilsen, Bobby Owens.
On: Keoni Watson, Ross Williams, Myles Padaca, Noah Johnson, Garrett McNamara December, 1996
Off: Marvin Foster, James Jones, Charlie Walker.
On: Tom Curren, Dave Kalama, Rusty Keaulana.
You certainly can't question the organizers' desire to stay current, and this year's alternate list is a good example. That roster includes Pancho Sullivan, making a huge name for himself in sizeable Pipeline and Backdoor; Buttons Kaluhiokalani, the fabled 1980s surf genius who has made such a stirring comeback, and three of the biggest names from Maverick's in Half Moon Bay: Jeff Clark, Peter Mel and Jay Moriarty.
Pray for surf next winter. The Eddie needs a lift.
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