An Anthology of Bodysurf Writing (Spanning Over 200 Years)

It’s difficult to put into words how good bodysurfing feels. However, some bodysurfers have been successful in describing the experience, and their writing is featured in this post—An Anthology of Bodysurf Writing.

Humans have been bodysurfing for thousands of years, but have only written about the experience for several hundred. One of the earliest descriptions of bodysurfing (see below) was written in 1769 by a member of Captain Cook’s first voyage around the world, who witnessed Tahitians bodysurfing a local reef break. Over the ensuing two and a half centuries, however, relatively few people have written about the topic.

Several years ago, I began researching about bodysurfing and was surprised to find so few books dedicated to the sport. That said, I found several books about surfing that devoted a chapter to bodysurfing. For example, in his book The Complete Guide to Surfing, author Peter Dixon writes “bodysurfing provides a certain spiritual thrill that must be experienced to be understood.”

I hope the following selection of bodysurf prose (and poetry) motivates you to get in the ocean and experience this “spiritual thrill” for yourself.

Bodysurf Writing Index

A New Voyage Round the World in the Years 1768, 1769,1770, 1771 by John Hawkesworth (1774)

As we were returning to the boat, however, we were entertained with a sight that in some measure compensated for our fatigue and disappointment. In our way we came to one of the few places where access to the island is not guarded by a reef, and, consequently, a high surf breaks upon the shore; a more dreadful one indeed I had seldom seen.

It was impossible for any European boat to have lived in it; and if the best swimmer in Europe had, by any accident, been exposed to its fury, I am confident that he would not have been able to preserve himself from drowning, especially as the shore was covered with pebbles and large stones; yet, in the midst of these breakers, were ten or twelve Indians swimming for their amusement: whenever a surf broke near them, they dived under it, and, to all appearance with infinite facility, rose again on the other side. 

This diversion was greatly improved by the stern of an old canoe, which they happened to find upon the spot; they took this before them, and swam out with it as far as the outermost breach, then two or three of them getting into it, and turning the square end to the breaking wave, were driven in towards the shore with incredible rapidity, sometimes almost to the beach.

But generally the wave broke over them before they got half way, in which case they dived, and rose on the other side with the canoe in their hands: they then swam out with it again, and were again driven back, just as our holiday youth climb the hill in Greenwich park for the pleasure of rolling down it.

At this wonderful scene we stood gazing for more than half an hour, during which time none of the swimmers attempted to come on shore, but seemed to enjoy their sport in the highest degree; we then proceeded in our journey, and late in the evening got back to the fort. – Joseph Banks

An Authentic Narrative of Four Years’ Residence in Tongataboo by George Vason (1810)

But they take particular delight in another amusement in the water, called Furneefoo. They go down to the flat shore, at high water, when the swell rolls with great force to the land, and plunge in and swim some yards into the sea, then pushing themselves on the top of the swell, they ride in, close to the shore.

It is astonishing to see with what dexterity they will steer themselves on the wave, one hand being stretched out, as the prow before, and the other guiding them like a rudder behind: and though they are riding in upon the swelling billow, with a frightful rapidity, that makes you apprehend they will be dashed and killed upon the shore, they will, with surprising agility, turn themselves suddenly, on one side, and darting back through the next wave, swim out to sea, till another swell waft them on towards shore; when, if inclined to land, they will again turn themselves on one side, and, awaiting the wave’s return, dart through the refluent surge, and reach the shore in safety.

Several hours are often spent at one time, in this sport, in which the women are as skillful as the men. I never attempted this diversion myself, as the trial might have been fatal.

Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage by Lord Byron (1818)

And I have loved thee, Ocean! And my joy

Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be

Borne, like thy bubbles, onward; from a boy

I wantoned with thy breakers,—they to me

Were a delight; and if the freshening sea

Made them a terror, ‘twas a pleasing fear,

For I was as it were a child of thee,

And trusted to thy billows far and near,

And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.

“Surf Swimming at Hawaii, Sandwich Islands,” Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper (1866)

FAAHEE, or surf-swimming, is a favorite pastime with the natives of the Sandwich Islands. According to Ellis, a recent writer, “individuals of all ranks and ages, and both sexes, follow this sport with great avidity. They usually selected the openings in the reefs or entrances of some of the bays, where the long, heavy billows rolled in unbroken majesty upon the reef or shore. 

I have often seen along the border of the reef, forming the boundary line to the harbor or Fare in Huahine, from 50 to 100 persons, of all ages, sporting like so many porpoises in the surf that has been rolling with foam and violence toward the land.

Sometimes mounted on the top of the wave, and almost enveloped in spray, at other times plunging beneath the mass of water that has swept like mountains over them, cheering and animating each other; and by the noise and shouting they made, rendering the roar of the sea and the dashing of the surf comparatively imperceptible.”

“A Great Surf Shooter” by W.F. Corbett, The Sydney Sun (1915)

Kahanamoku talked very interestingly to me yesterday about shooting the surf with and without the board. “Surf shooting is a new pastime here,” said he. “With us it is old—as old as the hills, perhaps.

“You have hundreds more surf shooters at work in one day around Sydney than we see in a week, or perhaps a much longer stretch of time, at Honolulu, but I think the old island has the pastime at greater perfection, which is only to be expected considering its antiquity with us.

“We race each other in on a breaker, and the desire to excel sets us all thinking hard and practising constantly. You catch your wave as it curls. We take it earlier, perhaps half a dozen yards away from the point of turning, and accumulate speed by scooping the water with the right hand and using the left in the ordinary way.”

The Art of Wave Riding by Ron Drummond (1931)

Wave riding—without a surfboard—is a sport with which few people are familiar, and it is undoubtedly in its initial stages of development. There are no books of instruction on the subject, and at present only a few of the more athletically inclined have become proficient wave riders.

Hundreds of people have asked me, “What is the knack of wave riding?” There is no simple formula that will enable a person to ride waves. However, there are a few details, which, if known, should prove most helpful. To derive the most pleasure from riding large waves, an all around knowledge of swimming is essential.

A powerful stroke, speed, good endurance, and the absence of fear are the primary requisites. However, small waves can be ridden by one who has practically no knowledge of swimming, and because of this fact even the amateur can start practicing immediately.

There are two different methods each of which should be mastered by the beginner. One is with the face down and the arms extended in front of the head, and the other is with the face out of the water and the arms at the sides of the body.

Riding with the arms at the sides is the more enjoyable of the two methods and is used in riding large waves; but riding with the hands in front is easier to learn and is the best way to coast in on a wave caught by the swimmer in shallow water after it has broken.

“Do You Body-surf?” by Eric Francis, Esquire (1937)

Just how, when, or where, the present beautifully perfected technique developed is somewhat of a mystery. A few years ago there were no body-surfers. Now there are tens of thousands. It is known to be one of the favorite sports in Australia, and some surfers claim it was introduced by a mythical visitor from “down under.”

But it seems far more probable that it came from the same country that originated surf-board riding—the Hawaiian Islands. As far back as 1911, George Freeth, a Hawaiian, who had come to America to train for the 1912 Olympic Games, was noticed body-surfing in the heavy swells off Venice.

Vic Hostetter, one of the local lifeguards, became interested, and Freeth taught him the technique. But this was as far as it went. Hostetter imparted the secret to several other guards, but no one else, apparently, was let in on the fun.

Almost a decade passed, and body-surfing was fast becoming a lost art, when Bill Bowen, of Santa Monica, with a number of school boys, was swimming off the old Crystal Pier in Ocean Park. With them at the time was Duke Kahanamoku. He noticed the boys attempting to ride waves with their legs and arms outstretched. In his usual good-natured manner he explained to them the method used in the Islands.

“If you will keep your hands behind you,” Duke admonished, “and hunch your shoulders forward, you will be able to ride that surf much better. Keep your head out of the water, and try to make your chest hollow, like a dish.”

It all sounded ridiculous, but the boys tried it, and were surprised to find that they were carried before the wave like a rubber ball thrown into the surf. Further, as Duke Kahanamoku explained, if the swimmer would bend one leg at the knee, raising it slightly, a surface would be provided whereby pressure could be exerted by the wave against the upper part of the thigh.

The raising of the leg also resulted in depressing the forward part of the body, affording a somewhat larger pressure area, and it could also be used as a rudder for steering.

After considerable practice the local boys perfected the technique, acquired the proper timing, and found that they had acquired an exhilarating new sport, with just that slight element of danger that gives tone to a pastime. The boys spread the good word and, before the summer was over, thousands of high school boys had become expert body-surfers.

“Surf Riding a Favorite Summertime Sport,” Life (1940)

Two hundred yards from the shoreline, like a huge sleepy giant, a big wave rises. Slowly it lifts itself into the air, a thin line of silver spray bubbling along its crest. Higher and higher it goes. Then suddenly, beginning at one end it starts to break. With a crash and a churn, it tosses toward the beach.

This is the sort of wave that body surfers dream about and the sort they hope to find whenever they go to the seashore. Actually nowhere do they have a better chance of finding these big waves than on California beaches. There almost every boy and girl is an expert surf rider.

After school, after work, over the weekend, or just any time at all they trek down to the beach, spend hour after hour playing in the waves, swallowing water, scraping stomachs on the sand, occasionally getting a long, spectacular ride which leaves them belly-down, high and dry on the beach.

“Body Surfing” by Candy Calhoun, Surf Guide (1963)

Twenty years ago, the term “body surfing” could be adequately defined in one short sentence. The sport was beautiful then, as it will be always, but it was still in its infancy, and there were many potentials yet to be discovered and developed. The body surfer’s chief objective was to catch a wave, take the drop straight off, and if possible, ride the “soup” (or white water) all the way to shore.

Body surfing has come to mean many things; techniques have reached a high degree of refinement, and a simple definition no longer suffices. The contemporary body surfer no longer goes straight off, if he can help it, and riding up to the beach is unimportant; it is second nature for him to drop into an angle as he catches the wave, and to pull out when the wave loses its shape. The body surfer now knows how and when to assume any one of a dozen or more wave riding positions, some of which are designed for speed, others for stalling, and he may change his position several times during one ride to produce a desired effect. The modern body surfer is continually seeking new sensations; he may roll onto his side and embed his shoulder into the wave, simply because he enjoys feeling the resistance of the water as he pushes through it. Or he may, as he turners onto his side, extend his arm forward, instead of digging his shoulder, thus creating a completely new sensation — one of skimming over the water.

Each individual has his own reasons for being drawn to body surfing; preferences as to techniques vary greatly from one person to another, but there is one thing that anyone strongly attached to the sport will agree with and that is this: the most gratifying moment of all comes when, through sensitive timing and maneuvering, the body surfer achieves the beautiful effortlessness of movement that means he is one with the water.

Surf And Sea by John Kelly (1965)

Tales of bodysurfing and belly board (paipo) surfing abound in the ancient legends of Oceania. The sport attracted young and old. Its lore features romance, contests and the names of famous chiefs and it is probably an older sport than board surfing. Some board surfers today think bodysurfing is a humiliating act they are forced to do to retrieve their boards after wipeouts. A smouldering war-of-liberation attitude exists in the heart of many bodysurfers toward board surfers. To the board surfers, bodysurfers are obstacles. To the bodysurfers, boards are a menace, the bodysurfers getting cut out of good rides by faster sliding boards or bouncing around in the board’s wakes.

It should be obvious that knowing how to swim well is a prerequisite for any sport in the surf. Quite often, however, the young or inexperienced think that they can handle waves in water that is not over their heads. A number of these unfortunate people drown every year. So here again, we’d like to remind one and all that learning how to swim well and acquiring endurance are the first rules for safe enjoyment of the ocean.

First attempts at body or belly board surfing should be made in a sandy beach area in waves not more than two or three feet high where the water is waist deep. Even such shallow water and small waves can present risks to the unwary. If you are inexperienced, we suggest you read about undertow, currents and the action of water around sand bars before you try out even these mild appearing surf sports.

“Your Body is Enough” by Jon Donohoe, The Surfrider (1968)

Most board riders are crazy about the surf — that is well known. But I’m going to stick my neck out and say that the body surfer enjoys the surf at its best and has a feeling for it that the board rider can never know.

By the very nature of things the body surfer is closest to the ocean. The exhilaration and thrill of the surf is for him that much keener. He feels the majesty of the seas against every nerve and muscle of his body as he rides the most powerful vehicle known to mankind, even in the Space Age.

But the ocean is no tame steed. It is often wild, cruel and unpredictable — and no part of the ocean is more subject to nature’s whims than a surfing beach. For that reason those who wish to enjoy the delights of body surfing should be strong swimmers experienced in the surf — and those who are learning should go carefully. Being careful means, among other things, learning to read the appearance of the surf; the shape of the waves, how they break and, most of all, the places where no waves are breaking.

How to Body Surf by Nelson Dewey (1970)

Bodysurfing is an easy to learn, healthy, exhilarating adventure! And it’s not expensive! All you need is an ability to swim, a bathing suit (although the early Hawaiians who invented surfing didn’t consider this a necessity) and some water with the right kind of waves on it.

Body surfing begins as a challenge. You must learn to overcome the force and fury of the ocean waves and use that unlimited power to work for you. Instead of competing with Nature, you soon develop a kind of communion. With nearly no effort, you use the wave’s energy to propel you swiftly along, almost a part of the wave — yet still independent! 

“The Body Art: Pure and Simple” by Tom Tomlinson, Surfer 18.3 (1977)

Bodysurfing. There’s even a “surfing” in the name. Boardsurfers, mat surfers, bellyboarders, Morey Boogie riders, bodysurfers, they all have one thing in common. They ride waves, all hoping to plug into a moving bundle of energy that originated somewhere on the face of the sun, to become for a few precious seconds an extension of an elemental force that will charge them with those feelings of speed, power, mastery, and awe that all surfers know make their sport unique. 

So why so little coverage of bodysurfing in the surfing press? I used to think it must be because bodysurfing is just less “photogenic” than boardsurfing, since all that shows of the bodysurfer is his head and shoulders. He’s in the water; the surfboard’s on top, fully visible. But square inches of flesh exposed can’t be the whole story. A well-composed, well-focused shot of a bodysurfer in a radical outrigger, shooting almost spread-eagled across the face of a wave, will set anybody’s heart pounding, not just another bodysurfer’s. It’s time for us bodysurfers to get over our inferiority complex. 

“Bodysurfing: Flippers Fine Art” by John Ogden, Tracks (1978)

“Bodysurfing is fantastic. It is an exhilarating feeling going along the wave with no utensils whatever, except for a pair of flippers. It’s just you, your mind, and manoeuvering your body against nature’s elements; namely the wave. There is a challenge there and there is a wonderful feeling of accomplishment, of harmonising with the elements, when you have finished a really nice ride. And then there’s the tube sensation. I can tube along a wave and get involved with that tube without worrying where the board is going to fly, without having to worry about a legrope around me. Plus the transport. I don’t have to get a board and tuck it under my arm, or drag it around on top of a car. I’ve just got a pair of flippers.” – Paul (Flipper) Gallagher

Surfing Fundamentals by Nat Young (1985) 

Although you don’t have to be a good body surfer to learn to ride a surfboard, the understanding of the ocean and timing gained from body surfing is a tremendous help to the novice boardrider. I would advise all surfers to learn the art of body surfing. 

One great advantage of body surfing is that you don’t have to be concerned with equipment. The only thing you need is a flexible body and the ability to shape and control it on a wave. Riding a broken wave on the body can give good understanding of this body movement. Choose a sandbank with waves breaking outside and rolling across the bank in about knee- to calf-deep water. Once in water of this depth let the first wave go; it will put more water over the bank for you to ride in. Watch the oncoming second wave carefully and turn your body towards the beach, still watching over your shoulder. Crouch as if you were going to jump, and, as the waves begin to lift you, spring forward into the foam. Take a deep breath and stretch your arms forward, your hands together, one over the other, simulating the bow of a boat. This makes your entry as smooth as possible. Give a little kick with your feet if necessary; you’ll find yourself gliding with the momentum of the wave towards the shore. Practise this a few times before tackling an unbroken wave. The method of doing this we describe next. 

Swim out towards the waves and when the first wave is approximately one metre from you take a good breath and dive under it coming up after it has passed over you. Then swim back to the surface and continue in this way until you are beyond the breaking waves. The larger the wave the deeper you must dive. Once you are beyond the break, tread water. You’ll find yourself rising up with the swells as they pass. When you see a wave that looks like it will break in the normal pattern, make up your mind to catch it. As the wave approaches, turn towards the beach, watch the wave over your shoulder and begin to swim with its crest. As you feel the power of the wave taking you with it, give one more stroke and let your arms move back alongside you. Pull them in nice and close, stick your chest out, lift your chin up, and by kicking your legs you should be able to stay with the wave. As the wave dissipates towards the beach you will find it necessary to kick more and perhaps further streamline your body by hunching your shoulders and concaving your chest. Taking another breath and burying your head will help you stay with the wave.

North Shore Chronicles by Bruce Jenkins (1990)

As dawn breaks, Pipeline is pumping in at 12-15 feet—pretty much the maximum and, realistically, closer to 25 feet if you’re out there. There’s a solitary figure walking toward the ocean, toting only a pair of swim fins, and with nobody around—not even on the beach—he goes bodysurfing. That was Mark Cunningham, day after big day after ridiculous day, throughout the 1980s.

“That whole feeling of being so involved; your entire body being encompassed by this moving force. And on a real long ride, you just trim…and climb…and drop…and kind of trim again…and shit, I gotta come back here if I want to keep going…and yes, that works! God, just that sensation of the water flying by, rushing like a fire hose against my chest. Maybe that was the hook. When you’re that low to the water, your sense of speed is just phenomenal. And it’s not just riding the waves, it’s swimming through them, it’s diving under them, opening your eyes underwater as you watch this thing impact right in front of you. And you just knife right through there, between the bottom and where those whitewater fingers are tryin’ to grab you. Just the whole dance out there. You’re like a piece of the ocean. I mean, what is the human body made of? Water. The physical makeup of the bodily fluids and the ocean is very similar. And now you’ve found each other. Hop on now, man, or you’ll miss the train.” – Mark Cunningham

The Complete Guide to Surfing by Peter Dixon (2001)

Bodysurfing provides a certain spiritual thrill that must be experienced to be understood. Riding almost to shore on the shoulder of a six-foot wave can lift you like nothing else. It’s a pure-and-simple, no-hype sport that gives you great boisterous fun.

Bodysurfing, to purists, is the ultimate way of achieving oneness with the sea. Literally, there’s nothing separating the bodysurfer from the wave. When the takeoff and ride all come together for a long rush along the tumbling face of a breaker, it’s a total emotional and physical high. It’s also one of the easiest surf sports to learn, if you can get the “feel” of what’s required. There is also a link between stand-up surfing and bodysurfing. The two are similar, and each requires surf knowledge and an understanding of wave dynamics. Become skilled in one and you’ll be better at the other.

To bodysurf well you need to develop an intuitive sense for the individual wave you’re trying to catch. Once you’ve mastered the basic skills, bodysurfing becomes a truly exhilarating experience. Best of all, sliding a wave with only your body can be enjoyed almost anywhere waves break from a foot high to ten feet and more. With an outlay for swim fins and trunks you’re fully equipped to start sliding waves. Where the water’s chilly, add a wetsuit. Can you think of any other active sport, besides running, that requires less gear and expense? 

“Bodysurfers and Australian Beach Culture” by Ed Jaggard, Journal of Australian Studies (2007)

Bodysurfing is much more than an ability. It is an art: a combination of timing, grace, expressive sensation and power. In some ways it is innate, something so personal it is almost impossible to describe: noise, light, colour, fear, exhilaration, disappointment and boldness. Those who do it best are eye-catching in the surf, even today. They are effortlessly at one with the sea, regarded by onlookers with a mixture of amazement, fascination and envy. 

The Plight of the Torpedo People by Woodshed Films (2012)

“An approaching whale surfacing within arm’s reach, rolling a huge eye level with yours, then pausing and holding your gaze before moving on. Being caught between a bait ball and diving pelicans, hoping the pelicans have impeccable vision and execution. Educating new board-surfers every autumn: ‘No, I didn’t lose my board. No, I am not taking pictures of you surfing. Yes, I can take off deeper than you want to. No, we can’t share a wave unless you are a lot more skilled than your paddling suggests. No, the waves aren’t too big for me. No, the waves aren’t too small for me.’ Having your worldview anchored chin high in the water and framed by the sweep of the wave on every ride — that is bodysurfing.” – Judith Sheridan

“Skin of the Ocean” by Ryan Masters, Surfer’s Journal 26.5 (2017)

It’s important to note that long before a surfboard was built to handle Pipeline, it was bodysurfed. According to the popular narrative, one of three haoles was the first to ride a wave there: Joe Quigg in 1953, the same year he became the first to bodysurf the Wedge; Phillip “Flippy” Hoffman, who allegedly bodysurfed Pipe to win a bet; or Fred Van Dyke, who bodysurfed Nor Cal spots alone like Steamer Lane and Ghost Tree before moving to Hawaii. This, of course, assumes no native Hawaiian swam out and caught a few off Ehukai Beach at any point during the 1,600 or so years preceding 1953, a very large, very cavalier assumption.

Bodysurfing has been a popular practice among Hawaiians of all walks of life for ages, according to BYU-Hawaii professor and surf historian Isaiah Walker. Not just because it’s a low-cost alternative to the increasingly expensive sport of surfing, but because it’s woven into the very fabric of native Hawaiian culture. “What has always fascinated me about bodysurfing,” said Walker, who has judged the Point Panic bodysurfing contest, “is the diversity. Not just racial, but social and economic—from homeless chronics, to television newscasters, to attorneys, to 300-plus pound Hawaiians, to tiny, skinny Asian women, to little kids, to old men. I’ve never seen so much diversity before in the water.”

“Pointless Beauty: The Art of Bodysurfing” by Rory Parker, Patagonia Stories (2022)

There’s a purity inherent in bodysurfing that no amount of popularity can ever kill. It’s the only form of wave-riding that allows one to be physically a part of the ocean, rather than apart from it. It doesn’t require a plank made of toxic chemicals. It presents no space for logos and few opportunities to profit off accessories. It’s inherently masochistic and forever blessed, or cursed, to remain the domain of the type of twisted mind that can look at a shallow, wind-torn, close-out and think, “Time to play.”

Bodysurfing is a high-impact hobby for the low-impact crowd. It will fill your sinuses with salt water, your hair and ears with sand, and your heart with joy. But it will never make you cool. It will never make you rich. It will never make you normal.

And thank heavens for that.

“A Strange Diversion: Remembering Teahupoo’s First Surfer” by Lauren Hill, Patagonia Stories (2022)

I’m diving under set waves until my chest nearly brushes coral. Even then, if I’m not flat along the reef, the risk of getting sucked backward and over the falls feet first still feels like a very real possibility. The other guys have already caught a handful of waves, but I’m not ready. The bigness of this place just demands respect. It doesn’t feel like the kind of place that you just hurl yourself into. Floating in the water here, it feels more like a grand cathedral. It is a pilgrimage point for our whole surfing culture, a wave that deserves full attention and respect, a place where people have gathered to be communally awe-struck by natural beauty for millennia.

I spend hours just swimming and diving under white water, a bit too overwhelmed to actually catch a wave. It’s a funny combination of intimidation and reverence that I haven’t really felt before. I have this weird urge to speak skyward; to some ancient spirit that governs the metaphysical seascape of this place. Who do I speak to here to make sure I’m welcome?

Maybe everybody before Vehiatua had felt this, too. That’s why they stuck to surfing the river mouth near shore. I didn’t know about her at the time, but I should have been speaking directly to the patron saint of Teahupo’o herself, lady Vehiatua.

Finally, a wedge rolls my way and it’s too exciting not to go. I kick frantically, airdrop with the froth of the lip, stone-skipping, then slip-sliding down onto the open face, gliding, then into the deep blue of the channel, with the stoke of a first timer. I swim back out and cautiously select a couple more, so thankful for the opportunity to get to see this place with my own eyes; to feel the immensity of the place that helped to birth surfing as we know it.