Hawaiian Waves With Dad

Guest blogger Steve Graham offers this report from his surfing excursion in Waikiki, where we spent our summer vacation this past Labor Day:

I had lunch with a guy a couple of weeks ago who was visiting L.A. from Hawaii. He was here on business but had taken a little time for R&R while he was here. He was a surfer and someone asked if he had hit the waves while he was is town.

"Why?" was all he said.

A couple of weeks later, I found myself on a long, smooth ride on a beautiful reef break in Waikiki, and I knew exactly what he meant.

I've been surfing around L.A. for a couple of years, but I'm still a beginner. So while in Hawaii, we opted to take lessons from Errol (pronounced "Earl") Kane at the Hilton Hawaiian Village. Our mid-morning class was just three people, including my 9-year-old Kate. All of the instructors were about half my age (and weight) and were totally ripped and overly tan.

We started the lesson on the beach, with Errol explaining the basics. He taught us to go through three positions to stand up, ending in the classic "low and strong" crouch that he swore was the same one Kelly Slater still sported on the covers of all those cool surf magazines.

"If you stay low and strong I swear you will go 100 yards,"  Errol said as he raised his arms in the air. "Touchdown!"

It was easy to picture yourself riding a wave while we were still standing on the flat and non-moving beach. But having done this before, I paid a lot of attention to the instructions on how to fall properly. Kate, on the other hand, was practicing reaching out and touching the face of the wave as she mentally shot through the tube.

My board was as big as an aircraft carrier and was emblazoned with "Laird" in English script lettering. I presumed I was borrowing surfing legend Laird Hamilton's board and made a note to check around the cabana bar for him when we got back. We paddled out through the shallows to where the waves were breaking. It was pretty short ride getting out there, but I swear it was twice as far coming back.

Everyone got their own instructor. Mine "towed" me into the waves with his foot on the nose of my board, spun me around, and pushed me onto a wave. He did all of the hard work, and that let me concentrate on Errol's standing instructions. The wave gurgled gently below me, I leaned forward to my knees, then to one foot, and then up to the Low and Strong. The wave went on forever, and I had time to take in the sites: the tourists on the beach, the fantastic clouds rolling in over Honolulu, and the imposing mass of Diamond Head in the distance. As the wave petered out, I ditched and surfaced to see Errol with his arms up.

'Touchdown," I thought.

I smiled and rolled back onto my board for another go.

After about 10 waves and paddling back out, I was exhausted. But I couldn't get enough of this fantastic break. The waves were small and we were only catching the end of them, but it was a really great ride. As we caught a few more, I learned to read the swells and to paddle in on my own.

Kate was with her own instructor, and was doing well. We were pretty far apart most of the time, but on one wave I paddled in and stood up only to find myself surfing right next to my daughter. We both yipped at yelled for each other and rode side by side toward the beach. What a great way to spend time together.

By the time we decided to call it a morning, my nose was sunburned, my knees were rubbed raw, and my arms were jelly. But my heart was full of aloha spirit. As we slowly paddled back in, I was wishing we had a couple of more days so that I could perfect my Kelly Slater stance – and Kate could learn to shoot the tube.

Read other posts from Waikiki at:

• Blogging From the Grand Waikikian


• Close Quarters In Hawai'i


• Kate's Interview With O'ahu Representatives Rebecca Pang and Sonja Swenson (video!)


• Pearl Harbor

Making Vacation History

Yesterday was Day 3 of our Hawaiian escape and Day 1 of immersion into the history and culture of the islands. Jack has finally stopped twitching at the thought of being more than two feet away from an electronic gadget of some sort, and Kate has taken on the unkempt hair and barefootedness of the classic island girl.

Our first stop was the check out the World War II Valor In the Pacific Memorial National Monument. The main attraction – the solemn final resting place of the USS Arizona – is free and comes with an informative movie recounting the history of that day of infamy and a short boat ride across the harbor. Jack was, as usual, a font of questions: Are the bad guys still alive? Why couldn't find they find the key to the door to get out of the ship? Kate and I were fascinated by the "black tears," traces of fuel and oil that leak to the surface, even after all these years. She found pretty little fish bobbing among the rusting hulk, a poignant reminder that life eventually returns to its own "normal," even in the face of something so horribly tragic and disruptive.

Next up was the Bishop Museum, a surprisingly dense pocket of Hawaiian history, natural history and culture tucked away in a residential area of Honolulu. Visitors who venture away from the beaches and loud resorts of Waikiki will find a museum (with a collection of more than 1.2 million artifacts) that, in a very Hawaiian way, rivals pieces of our Getty, Natural History Museum and California Science Center, with a dash of the Griffith Observatory thrown in for good measure.

Built in the late 1800s by Charles Bishop in honor of his late wife Bernice, the last descendant of the royal Kamehameha line, the museum is a fitting and spectacular tribute to the culture, beliefs, natural history and turbulent times of the native population. The iconic Hawaiian Hall recently reopened after a three-year closure and restoration project. The result is a stunning, interactive look at every aspect of Hawaiian life.

We paused amid the exhibits to enjoy the Ola Na Mo'Olelo, or Oral Traditions, a dramatic retelling of Hawai'i's controversial annexation by the United States that also brings some of the exhibits on display to life.

We ended the evening back at the hotel with a somewhat touristy but classic poolside showcase of hula dancers and music, the Rockin' Hawaiian Rainbow Revue, complete with a Don Ho-style crooner and spectacular fireworks show finale. By the end of the day we knew that this island is proud of all its icons and history – and we were more than happy to oblige as an engaged, and now educated, audience.