The Aloha Spirit

I always have to suppress a smile when the perennial issue of cyclists' friendliness -- especially towards newcomers -- comes up.

There's a letter in the comic again this week, praising the pro Stefan Schumacher for saying "hi" on a training ride, in comparison to the allegedly aloof and unfriendly types the writer has met "around London and the Surrey Hills".

I was responsible for a small controversy in my own club a while ago, when I questioned why some people wouldn't even acknowledge other members out on the roads. Someone replied that, as first and foremost a running club with a strong cycling section, many members had come into the sport without any grounding in the conventions of cycling clubs. Like being friendly to fellow members, presumably.

But the main reason I smile is that my other sport is surfing. About three of four times a year, I like to go off and ride some waves -- badly but enthusiastically. And surfing's attitude to newcomers is very straightforward: "You're not welcome"

In fact, surfing's attitude to everyone is straightforward: "Whoever you are, you're not welcome".

Limited natural resources, an explosion of popularity and revolutions in internet forecasting have led to an inevitable conclusion -- too many surfers are chasing too few waves. Localism -- summed up in the phrase "if you're not from here, don't surf here" -- is on the increase everywhere.

It's not new, but it's becoming more vicious. There are areas of Hawaii -- indeed entire islands of Hawaii -- which are never photographed or mentioned in the surf media; because of explicit violence and death threats against journalists and editors.

A friend of mine has made a couple of short films about surfing near his home on the west coast of Ireland. When I asked him if he was going to put them on YouTube, he patiently explained that "some of the spots are too easy to identify" -- and there would be retaliation.

This week - wind, swell and sunshine combined to give a glorious, if cold, days' surfing on the South Coast of England. I spent a couple of idyllic hours at West Wittering -- a glorious spot known for its gentle longboard waves and hassle-free crowds. I was aware, though, that there were spots an hour-or-so's drive away where my reception would have been much more hostile.

Even in laid-back Devon, there are places where visiting surfers are lucky to escape without violence in the water; and find a combination of slashed tyres, waxed windscreens and excrement in their rucksacks on returning to their vehicles.

So, in comparision, the odd miserable git who doesn't wave back is not so bad, is it?