THE DARK SIDE OF SURFING

Is the sea for everyone? — When the lineup breaks down

On a raw October weekend in Thurso, Scotland — a stretch of reef famous for its power — what should have been a showcase of British surfing turned into a weekend of shock and debate. During the women’s semi-finals of the GB Cup, a group of non-competitors paddled into the contest zone and, according to organisers and witnesses, subjected young female surfers to sustained verbal abuse and intimidation. The incident forced organisers to halt the event, triggered a police inquiry, and reopened an old wound in surf culture: who belongs in the lineup, and what happens when localism turns to harassment?

This wasn’t a simple spat over waves. Multiple reports described the abuse as misogynistic, deliberate, and timed to disrupt the women’s heats — an act that, whether driven by pride, protest, or prejudice, weaponised the ocean against athletes who had trained and travelled to compete. Several of the targeted surfers were teenagers. The scenes sparked outrage across social media and within the surfing community, raising uncomfortable questions about safety, governance, and whether the sea is truly open to all.

Localism: identity, stewardship — and exclusion

Localism in surfing is a complex cultural code. At its best, it reflects stewardship: locals who know a break intimately care for it, warn newcomers of hazards, and protect fragile spots from overcrowding or disrespect. In Indonesia, where localism is always done well, it’s used to caution surfers who may not have the ability to handle advanced waves. Sadly, this is a rare form of localism.

Localism can also become exclusionary — a belief that certain people “own” a wave. It turns dangerous when it shifts from boundary-setting to intimidation. The Thurso incident showed how easily this line can be crossed. The surfers who disrupted the heats may have resented the event showcasing “their” break, fearing it would draw unwanted surf tourism. But defending local identity never justifies harassment. A protest that targets women’s heats and relies on threats isn’t stewardship — it’s aggression.

Nobody owns the sea. It’s a public space. Imagine travelling to a new city and being told you couldn’t jog in its central park because it was for “locals only.”

Personal experience: localism in the water

I’ve been subjected to localism several times. Two incidents stand out.
In Ventura, California, I paddled out and was immediately told I wasn’t welcome. I stayed respectful — sat slightly inside the lineup, took a few waves on the head, surfed the smaller sets nobody wanted. Eventually, I caught a great wave, which angered the locals. One paddled over, threatening to rip my leash off if I didn’t leave. In the end, I returned to the beach.

The worst was at Playa del Socorro, on the north coast of Tenerife. It was a big day, few surfers were out, plenty of waves for everyone. When I caught one, a surfer deliberately dropped in, flipping me off. As I paddled back out, he charged straight at me, forcing me to duck under his board. It wasn’t about etiquette — it was aggression, pure and simple. I stood my ground and was threatened by two locals with a beating. I might add that this is rare, but it does occur from time to time.

Where organisers and authorities must step up

Major events require serious safety and crowd-management planning: clearly marked contest zones, visible marshals, rapid-response protocols, and a zero-tolerance stance on intimidation. The GB Cup’s cancellation and subsequent police investigation show how fast things can unravel without these measures.

Officials and local leaders should be empowered to act early, pause heats, and remove aggressors. Collaboration with local surf clubs before events can build mutual respect and reduce friction.

The law may also need reviewing. In the UK, local councils’ jurisdiction ends at the high-water mark. Beyond that, the sea is largely unregulated — liberating, yes, but also lawless. Surfing’s freedom comes with responsibility.

Community accountability — not silence

Accountability must come from the community. Public shaming is messy, but silence is worse. After Thurso, many in the surfing world — athletes, clubs, advocates — spoke out in support of the women. But real change needs sustained effort: education and consistent sanctions for misconduct.

Perpetrators should face proportionate consequences — from temporary bans to criminal charges — and restorative approaches can rebuild trust when victims agree. Transparency deters repetition.

Culture shift: teaching respect in the lineup

Long-term prevention is cultural. Surf schools and clubs must teach etiquette before technique — how to share waves, respect priority, and include others. I’m always shocked by how little beginners know about lineup etiquette; it should be lesson one.

Highlighting positive local role models who embody respect can help normalise inclusive behaviour. Media and governing bodies should also focus on solutions, not sensationalism. National surf federations must publish clear codes of conduct, safeguarding standards, and reporting channels so athletes feel safe.

Practical steps for a safer sea

1. Pre-event engagement: Local forums to discuss expectations and logistics.
2. Visible marshals & clear zones: Boats, buoys, and trained water safety.

(I’ve mistakenly paddled into a competition when the zones weren't clearly marked with buoys, it’s easily done)

3. Rapid escalation protocols: Authority to pause heats and remove offenders.
4. Education campaigns: Respect-in-the-lineup programmes.
5. Consistent sanctions: Public enforcement to deter repeat offenders.

The bigger picture: preserving the sea as a commons

Surfing’s beauty lies in its mix of wildness and community. That balance only survives if we protect inclusion. The ocean is humanity’s commons — it should never be remade into a territory of intimidation.

Incidents like Thurso are wake-up calls. They expose deep fractures but also offer a chance for reform: to build safer, more respectful lineups and ensure the sea truly remains for everyone.

 

Below is a thorough description of the rules of the line-up, to remind those who may have forgotten the etiquette we surfers follow. For beginners, please learn and respect these rules — they are essential for both safety and mutual respect in the water.

 

The Unwritten Rules: Surfing Lineup Etiquette and the Art of Shared Waves

Surfing, for all its freedom and wild romance, is one of the most rule-bound sports on earth. The ocean has no referees, no chalk lines, no grandstands. Yet out there, beyond the whitewater, an unspoken code governs who takes off, who waits, who paddles, and who yields. This code — surfing etiquette — isn’t bureaucracy; it’s survival. Without it, the lineup would descend into chaos, conflict, and injury. With it, even strangers can share the same patch of ocean in a kind of liquid choreography where respect replaces regulation.

1. The Lineup: An Unofficial Order in a Wild Place

The lineup is the invisible queue of surfers sitting just beyond where the waves begin to break, waiting for their turn. It looks casual, even anarchic, but every surfer knows the hierarchy. The person sitting furthest out or deepest on the peak — the part of the wave that breaks first — has priority. That unwritten rule, sometimes called “the right of way,” is the foundation of surf etiquette.

To understand why, you need to picture how a wave works: it breaks progressively from one side to the other. The surfer closest to that breaking point must drop in first — they have the clean face ahead of them. If another surfer takes off down the line ahead of them, that’s called dropping in, and it’s one of surfing’s cardinal sins. It’s dangerous, selfish, and can end in collisions, snapped boards, or worse. Every surfer knows that feeling: paddling hard, standing up into the drop, only to see another surfer appear down the line. Your wave is gone. Your trust is broken.

2. Dropping In: The First Rule of the Ocean

At crowded breaks, the temptation to sneak into a wave is huge. But the etiquette demands patience. You wait your turn, you observe, you learn the rhythm of the takeoff zone. At world-class reefs like Uluwatu or Pipeline, one drop-in can end your session — or worse, your credibility. Local surfers will remember, and respect is a currency in short supply once lost. Worst still, you could cause a very dangerous accident.

3. Paddling Out: The Invisible Highway

There’s an art to paddling back out after you’ve ridden a wave. New surfers often make the mistake of paddling straight through the peak, blocking riders or forcing them to bail. The rule is simple: never paddle into the path of a surfer riding a wave. Instead, paddle around the breaking section, even if it takes longer. Stay wide. Show awareness.

If you must cross the line of a breaking wave, do it behind the surfer, not in front. In big surf, a collision between a paddler and a rider can cause serious injury. Being mindful of the “traffic flow” shows you understand not just your own movement, but the entire rhythm of the lineup.

4. Priority, Rotation, and the Social Hierarchy of Waves

In theory, the lineup works like a queue — everyone gets their turn. In practice, it’s more fluid. Surfers who sit deepest and wait longest usually have priority, but ability and confidence also shape order. At advanced breaks, the most skilled surfers often dominate the peak. Beginners are expected to stay on the shoulders or move to smaller sections where they won’t disrupt.

There’s no shame in that — it’s how everyone learns. Sitting too deep when you don’t have the skills to take off safely isn’t brave; it’s reckless. You risk injury to yourself and others. Part of good etiquette is knowing your limits. The ocean is a strict teacher; it punishes ego quickly.

A lesser-known addition to this is that if you take off in white water, you do not have the right of way. The surfer, even if they are inside of you, has the wave if they are in unbroken water.

5. Communication: Speak the Language of Respect

Good surfers communicate — with gestures, eye contact, and simple words. A nod or a smile can signal your intentions. If two surfers paddle for the same wave, a quick “You go!” resolves it peacefully. Silence, arrogance, or aggression breaks the unspoken social contract.

Apologies also matter. If you accidentally drop in, which can happen, say sorry immediately. A sincere apology can diffuse tension that otherwise festers into hostility. Surfing is emotional; the best way to maintain harmony is to own your mistakes and learn from them.

6. Snaking and Hogging: The Subtle Breaches

Some breaches of etiquette are less obvious but equally frowned upon. Snaking — paddling around someone to gain inside position — is effectively queue-jumping. It’s manipulative, and regular offenders quickly lose respect. Wave hogging is another sin: taking far more waves than your share. The best surfers are often the most generous; they know that sharing waves builds goodwill and creates flow in the lineup.

7. Respect for Place

A visiting surfer shows respect by observing before entering. Watch how the locals surf: where they sit, how they rotate, how they interact. Paddle out quietly, wait for a few sets, and take a smaller wave before moving into the main lineup. Greet people. Be humble. Respect is earned, not claimed.

As one Hawaiian saying goes: Ke Ola Koa, “If you want respect, give respect first.”

8. Safety and Awareness: Reading the Ocean and Each Other

Surf etiquette isn’t just social—it’s practical. Boards are sharp, fins can cut (well-known surfer Mikala Jones died when his fins sliced his femoral artery), and collisions are dangerous. Always keep hold of your board; never throw it unless absolutely necessary to avoid being hit by a wave. Be aware of who’s around you. Don’t paddle out beyond your ability in conditions you can’t handle. Respect the power of the sea.

9. Teaching the Next Generation

One of the biggest problems in modern surfing is that newcomers often learn technique before etiquette. Surf schools focus on standing up, not on sharing waves. True surfing education must include lessons on lineup behaviour, right of way, and local customs. Instructors should model humility, not aggression.

Good etiquette is contagious. When experienced surfers show patience and kindness, it shapes the culture of the break. When they show arrogance or hostility, it breeds conflict. If an advanced surfer is surfing a small wave height, say five feet or less, they must expect beginners might share the break with them.

10. The Spirit Behind the Rules

At its core, surf etiquette is not about control; it’s about connection. The rules evolved to protect the experience — to make sure everyone can share the joy of riding waves without fear.

Surfing is freedom, but freedom without respect becomes chaos. The ocean will always be wild — that’s what draws us to it — yet even in wildness, there can be order.