Paddle-Out
Walking out toward the point to attend Jack O’Neill's Memorial Paddle-Out, I feast my eyes on three thousand surfers and paddle boarders forming a gigantic circle beyond the surf at Pleasure Point in Santa Cruz. Black dots on the ocean become visible in succession as the breaking sun backlights the scrim of morning fog. More and more wetsuits glisten into view, way out there, when sunlight hits their shoulders. The watery circle comes into focus and the enormity of it takes my breath.
Jack, who died this summer, would be humbled. He lived on the cliff overlooking the point, where his wooden fence is now strewn with flowers and notes of sorrow. The late surfing legend Jack O'Neill invented the wetsuit in the 1960s simply because he wanted to stay in the water and surf longer. His son Pat invented the surf-leash ten years later because it let him paddle less and surf more.
Today his grieving family enters the honored circle on Jack’s first sailboat, an old double-mast he'd rescued as a teen. There are hundreds of small kayaks and larger watercraft moored beyond the circle, which itself is more than a mile-and-a-half in diameter. A few close friends and dignitaries speak from a catamaran. Someone hands out white orchids and many wear flower leis to toss into the circle--biodegradable all. The circle grows so large that the loudspeaker becomes useless. No one minds. We’re simply glad to be part of this impressive community of watermen and women of all ages and races. Here to honor our best.
Afterwards, they quietly climb back up the cliff, one-by-one, wet and barefooted, boards tucked under their arms, looking at once exhilarated and blessed. They gaze down on the crumbling steps with solitary smiles. I lean over the top staircase wall and watch as their sandy toes hit the cement stairs below: long toes, suntanned toes, bandaged toes, pierced toes, gnarly toes, polished blue toes, hammer toes, kid toes. All colors of toes with one common denominator, reverence for Jack O’Neill. Most wear his wetsuit. We thousands onshore applaud each one as they hit the top step, thanking them for representing us on the water. Coming off the peaceful sea, they look surprised to see the throngs onshore. We wear our faded O'Neill t-shirts with pride.
A serene vibe is in the air with rocking music, dogs, skaters and kids. Nobody protests anything. Nobody asks for anything. Nobody sells anything, except two blond girlchildren presiding sandy-footed over their lemonade stand. One small boy pulls a little red wagon full of bottled water. Reverent Santa Cruz Police block off Pleasure Point to cars. They knew Jack and the unselfish work he did for kids with his Sea Oddessy Foundation. Jack put thousands of kids on the water who had never been on a boat. He offered kids hands-on education while encouraging them to protect our environment. He wanted us all to experience the power, beauty and magic of the ocean. It was Jack's way of giving back to the living seas which gave him so much.
A Red Cross truck arrives with hot coffee and water. No medical emergencies occur—the water lies flat and calm. Great Whites stay beyond the kelpline. One surfer paddles out with a scruffy brown dog riding the nose, ears flying. The dog bails out once when the guy duck-dives into a breaking wave but, incredibly, the mutt springs back on board and shakes it off. We bystanders cheer. Over at the music stand they pass out commemorative waterproof packages of Jack’s favorite fruit-and-nut surf mix that advises: FEED YOUR ADVENTURE. His picture on the label makes me smile. Wearing the familiar eyepatch, Jack flashes a sideways glance and that wicked grin.
