Swell: A Year of Waves

By Evan Slater and Peter Taras

“Not only a gorgeously photographed guide to the best waves in the world but a lucid introduction to the science behind them.” —The Wall Street Journal 
 
Wave watchers around the world know that no two waves are the same. Yet each and every wave that rises, peaks, and crashes onto the beach is generated by a much larger force originating thousands of miles away. Surf journalist team Evan Slater and Peter Taras capture the essence of waves and the swells that produce them in this breathtaking collection of wave photography.
 
Slater characterizes four distinct swells from different corners of the globe and traces their journeys throughout the year from storm to seashore. His reflective, informative essays amplify these powerful images of hundreds of waves frozen in time, beautiful, simple, universal, yet wholly unique—and the best thing to watch on the planet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Apr 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452116495

Book preview

Introduction

For a long time, I considered myself an expert on waves. I watched them in wonder at a young age, soon started riding them at my local beach, and gradually set aside other pursuits to explore as many foreign shores as possible. Eventually, I made it my mission to conquer the biggest waves I could find.

That led me to board a boat in January 2001 with the intention of riding a wave a hundred miles off the coast of San Diego—a wave that breaks on a large underwater shoal in the open ocean. Called Cortes Bank, it was at the time surfing’s Mount Everest. Our crew would be the first to climb it.

Past experience had convinced me that I was prepared for the mission. I had success-fully ridden most of the marquee big-wave spots—countless hours at breaks like Maverick’s in Half Moon Bay and Waimea Bay on Oahu. I had been face to face with the ocean at her angriest and come out unscathed and undaunted.

Sure, surfing Cortes Bank was a bit of an Evel Knievel Grand Canyon jump. But a big wave is a big wave, I reasoned. It shouldn’t be any different from, say, climbing K2 after summiting Mount McKinley or heli-skiing Valdez after mastering Mount Whistler.

I kept telling myself this as I jumped overboard and started paddling toward the break. One hundred miles out, the ocean did feel different: no land mass as a reference point; surrounded—above and below—by shades of blue; the water as smooth and thick as syrup. And the waves: a herd of raging elephants.

Never had I witnessed swells so fast-moving and haphazard, thundering across the mile-long reef and landing wherever they pleased. A companion and I scrambled helplessly as we dodged and weaved, trying to find some sense of rhythm to the madness. It was almost as if we were in the ocean for our very first time.

About thirty minutes in, Cortes Bank grew tired of our feeble attempts to tame it. After I paddled for a smaller