The 10th annual BearBack contest in Hermosa Beach — the only surf contest I’ve ever been to where when taking a group photo, everyone shouts out, “Shrinkage!”
Jimmy Young and the Browning brothers founded this chilly cold-water contest a decade ago, and the comical opening speech by Jeff Browning, besides a few witty rhymes, explains, “This was all due to one man’s bad idea,” pointing at a burly Mr. Young, with his bright blue trunks, ten gallon straw hat, and matching blue board.
It was my first time in attendance and I had no idea what to expect, other than knowing it was a small local event and there were no wetsuits allowed. Slowly, as the morning went by and way more unnecessary skin started becoming revealed, I began to understand the rules. The funnier the outfit, the more waves you caught, and the more interesting you made the heat, the better your scores. Whining and being ordinary counted as negative points, and cutting people off surprisingly got you a few extra. More importantly it wasn’t so much a test of skill, rather than an excuse to get a close knit group of people together to laugh at each other nearly suffering.
My heat consisted of some South Bay chargers — Jani Lang in a silver snowboard helmet, gorgeous Dani Nemeth with a rad getup of body paint, bandanas, and fishnets, someone with spray painted abs, and a few other silly characters. After a brutal beating paddling out in consistent and well-overhead surf, Dani and I looked at each other, relieved to have even made it outside with the other four shredding guys. The 15 minute heat went by at a snail’s pace, all of our teeth chattering and trying to burn some fire in our bodies by paddling around to stay warm in the freezing dead of winter water. I caught a few sizeable waves, fell, lost my board, and paddled back out to have a set wave break on my head and suck me far under (just like yesterday’s mishap at the cove). The monstrous washing machine rolled me around and I fought to get up, feeling my lungs squeezing tight from the cold and exertion and begging for air. When I surfaced, I gasped and with great effort made the swim in, energy and movement in the water making it take a bit longer than normal. My feet hitting the sand signified the end of the heat, and my skin, almost burning, made me feel like I’d been submerged in ice.
The winner for the day, Cheyne Magnusson, was quite the spectacle in his lacy lingerie. First, second, and third were announced, champagne bottles blasted open, and everyone seemed to be talking funny, lips numb and sentences slurred from the cold water. The 10th annual Bareback seemed to be a success — at least the frozen smiles on everyone’s faces weren’t coming off anytime soon.
