More than Surf

What was life like growing up with perfect waves in the middle of the Pacific?

I grew up on an island called Huahine, 30 minutes by plane from the main island of Tahiti, 7,000 people, surrounded by the ocean. When my parents were done with their work, they would take me surfing with them. My dad has a shaping room and made all of our boards, since being on a remote island, it would be pretty hard to find a surf shop. At that time, I didn't know how spoiled I was to surf world class waves with just my parents and my sisters out there, riding our dad’s boards.

How did dreams of the World Tour and Olympics come into play?

My dad pointed out to me that he thought I was good enough to try to compete. So I flew out to the main island by myself, competed in my first local contest, got third in the final, came home crying because I lost, then I told my parents I wanted to start competing. I knew that if I wanted to get better at surfing, I needed to get out of Huahine, into the “real world,” and start surfing beach breaks and go left. I learned how to go left at the age of 13; I had never gone left prior to that since I wasn't competing. So technically, the World Tour and Olympics at that time were not even in play, I was just a little girl, finding a purpose day by day, and ultimately that's where it led.

What do you think and feel when you're paddling into a monster at Teahupo’o?

When I set a toe in the water out there, I am already scared. Big or small. And when it's my turn to go for the wave I want, I usually try to commit at 200 percent. If not I don't even paddle for the wave, because this wave doesn't give you room for hesitation. Hesitation and Teahupo’o don't belong in the same room.

So I paddle as hard as I can, I see the ocean drawing up the face so I have to start kicking my legs to go even faster, then I stand up, and once I make the drop, all five senses are turned on. My vision  is so clear: I see the mountains, the boats, the photographers in the lineup, the ocean surrounding me in a circle shape, I hear the sound of the ocean, it feels like I am in the heart of the whole Pacific. It’s where I have no more thoughts, it’s where I reconnect with something greater than this world. It may sound exaggerated but it’s truly that feeling. The feeling of being alive. And when I come out of the barrel, every time I have the biggest smile.

What is it like being a part of such radical progression in women's surfing?

To be honest, I don't know how I got myself in this position. My first time surfing Teahupo’o was at the age of 15, during a local contest in Tahiti. I didn't catch a wave, lost the heat, and never came back until I was 17. At that time, I was still watching from the channel more than surfing it, but I could see Kauli Vaast, Matahi Drollet, and all the Tahitian chargers always so happy after surfing Teahupo’o. I wanted to feel what it was like to be happy out there. It wasn't about wanting to be a charger or win the championship title, it was more about chasing a feeling that made me feel alive, and that's where it led me to.

What is it like being a Scandinavian surfer?

The essence of what we do — riding waves — is more or less the same as being a surfer anywhere in the world. It’s what happens surrounding the actual surfing that seems so far removed. The nuances and details, seeing a blizzard outside whilst having your morning coffee at 9 a.m. while it’s still dark, knowing you’re about to pack the car and head to surf. Or planning a 10-hour drive for a four-hour swell window at a wave that may break once every few years. There are definitely times where your motivation to surf is tested, the parallel being that it’s always an adventure, exciting, unique, and potentially quite extreme.

What are the highest highs and lowest lows of your pursuit of waves?

There are just endless amounts of empty coastline, so the highs are so rewarding. Timing that miraculous session at waves you’ve spent years envisioning and studying on maps is such a beautiful experience and sense of accomplishment. Not in a show-off way, more just a way of feeling deeply connected to what you love and believe in.

The lows are the mirror of all the above. You can also feel the disconnection in a strong way — you surf less and it’s not as easy. Long flat spells, or any of the multiple factors that keep you out of the water up here; it can all lead to one losing that connection, that sense of being a surfer that I personally feel is so important and fulfilling, as it’s the reason for being there and doing any of it in the first place.

Do you get scared in the remote settings you find yourself in? Do you embrace the solitude?

At times I get scared of what could go wrong, the remoteness, and the entirety of it all. Especially in waves of consequence. With that being said, I think I’m more scared of not doing what I love and what I believe in.

And in regards to solitude, I feel there’s a time and a place in anyone’s life to embrace that, if that’s what you’re driven to do. I’ve had such a drive to immerse myself, whether that's with company or not. One thing with solitude is that it’s not sustainable, it always leads you back to the realization of life being better shared, which is wonderful.

What does surfing in Scandinavia give you that no other place could?

Purpose.

Mikey February 

Mikey February translated a life of competition into the stepping stone he needed to explore the world with his family, blending art and music to the delight of everyone following his journey.