This phrase is cited as a universal reference in the Surf Encyclopedia, signed by various Galician veterans who, one day in the 1960s, conceived the idea of grabbing a board and heading into the sea from Finisterre to ride the waves, even though many considered them eccentric.
And indeed, since ancient times, the sea has revealed a side that is not so friendly and far from the postcard: hard work for sailors, storms and uncertainty, such vastness.
However, when the surf counterculture spread across the world in the 1950s and 1960s – although surfing had already been practiced in a ritualistic way by Hawaiians for thousands of years – the sea began to show a more dynamic face under the promise of turning this practice into a language capable of unifying cultures and better integrating humans with nature.
We spoke with two surf experts, about its transcultural codes and the essence of a world that, from certain beaches, appears to us as a better place.
Asís and Writing About Surf in the 1980s
One of the spring’s serendipities led me to a Murcia orange grove where Asís Pazo began sharing with me some of his articles written for 3sesenta, Spain’s first surf magazine.
Asís spoke to me about places around the world where everything seemed to unfold for the first time, between analog photographs and texts that describe the emotion of territories that seemed more untouched than ever around a living ecosystem like surfing:
“I’ve always believed that riding a wave is a metaphor for life: an energy that advances, pushes you forward, and then fades, leaving you with a feeling that is hard to explain. The sea always invites you to travel, and each break ends up becoming a special place, a small home,” Asís tells Condé Nast Traveler España. “I’ve been lucky to surf in Spain, Portugal, Morocco, France, Cuba, Costa Rica, Mexico, Peru, or Hawaii. Behind every wave there was a culture, a cuisine, and a different way of understanding the world.”
