Issue link: https://bluemagazine.uberflip.com/i/25040
I had never been to Michigan before. Most of my travels have kept me bound to the ocean in search of waves, an endless mission for all surfers. But there I was, skirting the shores of the Great Lakes on my way to a surf contest in Grand Haven, Michigan. I couldn't believe I was heading inland to find surf. As I was driving north on Interstate 94, a magnificent storm rolled In off Lake Michigan over the northern Indiana coastline. Though the rain was blinding, I was excited. I was hoping it was the swell-maker that Jim Hoop, co-director of the Eastern Surfing Association's Great Lakes Chapter, had raved about on the Great Lakes Surf Hotline only 10 hours before. "The contest IS on, " he proclaimed. "We will meet in Grand Haven. The call is for four- to six-foot surf!" But his closing words warned: "Just remember, all contests are subject to King Neptune and those lows." A reality Great Lakes surfers know all too well. In years past, Jim scheduled surf competitions and locations several months in advance. But the system was too structured for Lake Michigan's unpredictable nature. Last year Jim was forced to cancel all eight planned events due to lack of surf. "We would plan a contest in Michigan and the swell would be In Wisconsin, " he says. So Jim devised a new scheduling format this year, giVing each event a two-day window. Competitors call the surf hotllne (Jim's home answering machine) the night before the event for the location. Depending on which way the wind blows, the contest site could be in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, or Muskegon, Michigan, a difference of 350 miles. Great Lakes surfers have to be flexible-they have no choice. The Grand Haven contest proved the new system is a flop. One day was not enough time for wave forecasters to predict the lake's irrational movements. We got skunked. I was the first to arrive at the proposed site. I'll admit, I was filled with anxiety as I rolled up to the parking lot at Grand Haven's city beach. I could stili hear Jim's voice boasting about chest-high surf. But there she was, a flat Lake Michigan with one-foot sloppy faces at best. Soon the cars began to roll in. They came from all around: Wisconsin. illinoIs. Indiana and Michigan. Some toted longboards on their roofs. ESA stickers were proudly displayed on car windows. Jim led the entourage of surf vehicles in hiS ocean-blue Dodge Caravan. His Illinois tags read "SURF VAN." After desperately checking all possible breaks, the surfers set up a barbecue in the state beach parking No one was ready to give in just yet. "It could still up, " someone speculated. "The winds were strong down South Haven," another said. Meanwhile, Paul Kevelin, a Detroit surfer, suited up in his 5-millimeter wetsuit, paddled out in the 38°F sloppy surf. Most sat back and laughed while they exchanged surf stories and photo albums from their latest coastal expeditions. But Paul was actually catching some waves. During the next hour the wind picked up. Though the conditions did not reach competition level (even by Midwest standards). more decided to take the plunge. was a reunion, and if there was a wave to play in, they were going to play. Soon more surfers began to emerge. Their fervor was contagious. Doc Beaton, one of the forefathers of Great Lakes surfing. stood and watched from the pier. The word was out-there was surf in Grand Haven. Like the local motto goes: "It's about 10 degrees warmer when you're surfing with your friends." Th e CO NDI TI ONS Dean Williams is one of the few surfboard shapers in the Great Lakes region. When I first saw his boards in Grand Haven's Chapter 11 surf shop, I was mystified. An airbrushed bald eagle sits on the deck of a 7'8" twin-fin swallow tail, surrounded by an