Sporting

In the grand scheme, Virginia Beach is not a place known for its epic surf. It doesn’t have the world-class waves of California or Hawaii, Australia, South Africa or Indonesia: a 300-mile fetch of energy sapping, swell-reducing shallows known as the Continental Shelf is the culprit. This could be a joy killer—but surfers at Virginia Beach take what we can get, and are (mostly) happy about it. It has been that way for a long time. We may not have the best waves but surfing here has a history—a formidable one that goes back 100 years and comprises multiple generations. And there is a story to go with the tradition—one of dedication by a handful of intrepid thrill-seekers in the early decades of the 20th century, and now, by modern throngs seeking their own form of pleasure or trendy recognition. Surfers here assiduously seek those small windows when the conditions are right; when light opposing winds complement a maximum swell at an optimum tide. It’s then that we grab our boards and hope not to get busted for missing work, skipping school or backing out of those plans to see a sweetheart.

As surf journalist Matt Warshaw points out, “The jaded and enervated surfers sprinkled throughout California are nearly impossible to find on the East Coast, where waist-high waves are often treated as a gift, not an insult.” Marty Keesecker, a Virginia Beach surfer and surfboard shaper of nearly 50 years, is even more pragmatic: “There is something to be said for tenacity,” he says. “If you put the time in, and you drive enough, you’ll find something to ride. If you’re patient and you don’t expect a lot, you’ll have fun and it’ll be enough to keep you in the water for an hour or so. In Virginia Beach, you can’t expect it come to you, you have to go to it.”