J and I are Ne’bro’has. Although we met after moving out to California, we were both born and raised on concrete reefs between the waves of grain and the currents of roaming cows in the great state of Nebraska. We had no clue that getting an education and getting out of Dodge would bring us to the city of dreams called San Francisco, leading us to an existence of constantly sniffing out waves and, upon finding them, slipping into wetsuits and jumping into the cold Pacific just to catch a few.

Back in August, while eating sandwiches during lunch with the towering skyscrapers of the Financial District looming over us, J mentioned that he was going to Hawaii for New Year’s with his girlfriend. We decided then and there to meet up on the North Shore and start 2007 off right.

My wife Amanda and I finally made it to the North Shore on January 2, 2007. Prior to arriving at our beach house at Rocky Point and meeting up with J and Hil (who had been at Kona for the past week), Amanda and I had been staying at a friend’s place in the Valley overlooking Waikiki. We were told that it should only take about an hour to get from Honolulu to the North Shore. However, due to an XXL swell that was pounding the coast (and the cajoling from the local news), all the tourists and non-locals were driving up to Surf Mecca to get a glimpse of the spectacle. Just before driving around the bend at Waimea, I noticed a tattooed guy selling bumper stickers along the roadside that read “Eddie would Tow”. As we inched around Waimea, we could see some monster waves rolling through, but, to be honest, I was more interested in getting to our destination than stopping to watch.

Three hours after leaving Honolulu we finally arrived at our beach house. J and I immediately scurried across the steep sandy beach to check out Pipeline. The sun was setting and Pipe was going off. One lone surfer was still out (along with several bodyboarders). A set came through and he took off for what seemed like a minute-long ride which ended with a nice barrel to the inside. WOW. I don’t know who that surfer was (his board displayed the Mexican flag), but it was a sick first ride to witness on the North Shore. For a little while I wasn't sure that we were even watching Pipeline. The wave wasn't what I was used to seeing in movies where the surfer heads left, grabs rail almost immediately and pulls into a truck-sized barrel. This was something different. I later learned that due to the size and direction of the swell, the Second Reef was going off. Once we got settled into our new pad we became instantly aware of the lack of nightlife. The only place nearby to buy beer was Foodland, the local grocery store, so it became our first destination. When we went to Foodland to load up with groceries and beer, we couldn't help but have a deja vu-like experience. The scene was similar to that of a grocery store in Vail or Telluride. Skinny, athletic, messy-haired dudes with bloodshot eyes were either walking around with a tallboy in hand while looking for something else to snack on, in the magazine aisle checking to see if their picture made it in the latest issue, or in line waiting to pay for their goodies with loose change. While in line I overheard them discussing the day’s epic session in a language accentuated with pidgin. The only difference between the mountain and the beach scenes was that these dudes were "brahs" and were wearing flip flops and boardshorts, and were extremely tanned.

The swell was still macking for the next couple of days, so the breaks near our beach house were mostly 3–4x overhead closeouts. A ten-mile drive in either direction brought us to mellower, but still crowded breaks where we were able to ride our shortboards and have a good time. To the north of us was Velzyland. To the south was Haleiwa. Even though both J and I had been surfing for a number of years, and do go out on large days at OB, we were a bit nervous to paddle out at a new surf spot in such a reputable place like the North Shore. After all, this is where the pros live and die and, to be honest, I kinda felt like Rick Kane in the movie The North Shore, i.e. a Barney. In the end, we followed the paddle-out path around the reef set out by some locals and then headed to the bigger of the two breaks. After taking our time and getting the feel for the place, we finally felt confident that we were both surfers and were in our element. Even though we were trying not to be aggressive, we did manage to catch a few waves and declared our first North Shore session a success.

Later that day we surfed Haleiwa Beach Park, which we immediately dubbed the OB of Hawaii due to the rip, chop, and long paddle out. We never felt safer surfing in our lives then when 20 life guards swam out just to the inside of us to practice rescue techniques. But, similar to OB, once you get to the outside, it’s generally bigger than it looks from the beach.

After doing some sightseeing, we saw that a beach break called Laniakea was breaking and looking pretty fun. Again, the paddle out was long, but when we got out, the cleanest sets we’d seen yet were breaking right and a pack of locals was absolutely killing it. It was good-sized but not too gnarly. In between catching a few waves, J was accosted by some beat-up looking bodyboarding woman who was complaining about how tired she was after being out there for four hours. All I could do was think about all the four-hour sessions I have never had.

Finally on day 3, the swell calmed down a bit and Ehukai and Rocky's were looking fun. I paddled out at Ehukai's and quickly figured out that I would not be catching too many waves. Guys were dropping into the wave so far in the pit that, unless they didn't stick the landing or wiped out, the chances of me getting a wave were slim. It was normal for guys to drop in on each other. On several occasions I saw guys drop in on other guys who were getting shacked. After watching this circus for a while and paddling against the current to try to maintain some sort of position, I heard a local kid ask someone named Jack, "Where'd all the good people go?” When Jack shrugged, I realized that it was Jack Johnson. I finally did manage to get a clean overhead wave and just before it closed out on me, a neon green camera lens popped out of the water and snapped a shot of me.

The next day, our work in securing a rental 30 steps from Rocky’s paid off with a glassy head to head and a half high dawn patrol session. We sat in a little from the point and both caught a ton of waves. J even got a drop-in barrel which he thought was gonna work him, but with both hands jammed into the face of the wave, his fins finally caught and he raced down the line and gave a hoot. No one seems to hoot much on the North Shore, which J quickly realized when about five heads turned, looking at him stunned. One of them finally smiled when they realized that a heartland haole was just stoked. I went out again at Ehukai with a buddy who lives in Maui and some of his local friends, and learned that Fred Patacchia was also out in the water. I'm sure I was surfing alongside some other pros as well because when we got out of the water and were chilling on the beach, some comments were made about Jamie O’brien and Rob Machado surfing in front of us at Rocky's.

Having some locals with us was refreshing since they knew exactly where to go, depending on what the swell and winds were doing. Since our “local” break wasn’t working just right, our guides took us down the coast to find something more appealing. One of our first stops was a break called Jocko’s. Although it was easily double overhead, it was already crowded and not so consistent. Finally after checking a bunch more places, we ended up at a stretch of beach near Ka’ena Point and got some meaty waves all to ourselves. Our new local friends, Malico, Kapu, and Manny were carefree and young. We had to use duct tape to ensure that the boardshorts Malico was borrowing would stay on. After one wave Malico paddled back to our friendly lineup and informed everyone that he had just witnessed me getting a nice barrel. The rest of the session consisted of us hooting and hollering each other into big drops until it was finally time to go in. Later that afternoon Rockies was really going off. I have never seen such perfect waves (or so many broken boards). I was still exhausted from the morning session, so I decided to stay out of the water and take photos, drink beer, and watch the madness.

After being on the North Shore for six days, it was finally time to go home. Since the flight left around noon, I still had a chance to get a few more waves. Before getting into the water, a bro began talking shop with J. It turned out that the bro was the old school pro skater, Mark Partain. Mark's knuckles were tattooed with "SK8R SURF". He gave us a tip about where to paddle out that ended up putting us in the line up after only four duck dives. The last session was one of my best. Even though tons of jerseyed groms were out while their sponsors filmed them from the shore, and the local rippers were dropping in super-deep and making the sections, I managed to get a number of lefts and rights. Unfortunately J tweaked his neck after jumping out the back of a wave. Since he went in early, he decided to take some pictures and just happened to get a picture of me on my last wave on the North Shore.

In the guest book at our rental, we saw that someone had signed off their entry by writing ”mahala,” a close but incorrect spelling of the Hawaiian word for thank you—mahalo. We added our Nebroha touch to the word and ended up with our tag line, mahaller. We would try to use “mahaller” in every sentence spoken, such as “We would throw mahallers in the air like we just didn’t care” or, “Mahaller if you can hear me.” Even though nobody knew what we were talking about, our new word cracked us up.

Our trip had finally come to an end so after throwing a shaka in the air and a “Mahaller” to anyone that could hear it, we headed to the airport. At the Honolulu Airport, J ran into a local OB surfer named Audi who had been stuck in the airport on stand-by for two days. Although there are worse places to be stuck, it’s a long bus ride back up to the Country and Audi was seemingly ready to get back to OB.

If you go to the North Shore, be respectful of the locals, have a good time, and most importantly, give a “Mahaller” shout out for us!

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