HAWAII 5-0 FAKIE
INDEPENDENT
Off the tombstone and over the fish and cavity,
Choppy sucks one up at Kale's ramp.
Text and Photos by Michael Burnett
EELING GOOD AFTER WINNING THE BIG SURF
contest at my local Arizona wave pool, I boarded a
747 bound for Honolulu, Hawaii-birthplace of surf-
ing and the giant waves that spawned it.
My first day on the North Shore I broke my stick on the
shallow reef only to get back to the beach and discover
someone had not only stolen my hand-crafted surfing belt
buckle, but also my pen and pencil set, the latter of which I
would need to pursue a graphic design career in the straight
world should my position on the pro tour not solidify.
Stinging from the reef rash, I was provided some relief by a
gentle native girl named Kiani who used some of the local
plants to soothe the savage burn. I really appreciated her
friendliness and wanted to suggest we get a bite to eat later,
when all of a sudden she was hurried away by the stern
words of an older brother.
"That's Vince of da Hui," a youngster quickly told me. "He
can be extremely volatile." Thankful for the info, and impressed
at the moppet's use of the word volatile, I hunkered down with
a Spam sandwich and listened.
Da Hui, I found out, were a group of Hawaii natives whose
pride in their island manifested itself in a strong love for the
beach and its natural resources but, on the down side, some
minor xenophobia as well. "I bet it was they who stole my pen
and pencil set!" I thought to myself. Exhausted, I headed up the
road to a quiet farm house. With only a broken board and no
way of holding my pants up, things were looking grim..
"Get back! He's coming! He's coming!" a man with a video
camera yelled at me. "Caz is coming!" He was waving his arms
like crazy. Startled, I stumbled backwards just in time to see a
flying form blast from the roof of the barn, only to land
approximately 50 yards away in the back of a pick-up truck
covered with plywood. As the daredevil skitched rapidly across
the track of boards leading into the cow pasture, the man with
the video camera charged me, spittle spraying from the his lips
as he screamed obscenities.
"You friggin' idiot! You made me miss it! He ain't gonna do it
again!" Apparently I'd walked directly into an elaborate skate-
board stunt and had distracted the director of photography.
"You stupid, dummy, creep!" he continued. He was livid.
"C'mon dudes! Let me make it up you!" I wailed as they
encircled me. Thankfully the camera man, Chandler, an old-
time "soul skater" took pity and took me up on my offer. As
a gesture of restitution, I agreed to clean up his skateboard
shaping shack in exchange for the lost footage and a cot in
the back. More importantly, he started to teach me how to
skateboard the Hawaiian way.
The first day out, I was eager to hop on the brand new
Natural Koncept board I'd seen Caz and the other guys riding.
"Not so fast!" Chandler said, as he took away the beautiful Caz
model and handed me a two-by-four with rollerskates on it.
"This is what the original Hawaiian skaters did it and this is the
way you'll learn. And take those shoes off!"
After eating shit for a couple of days, Chandler decided I
was ready to move up to the next board, a Town and Country
124 THRASHER
Sam Clemens blasts a frontside Twain at Wallos.