Big Island Surfing: Volcanic Breaks and Sacred Tides

The Scent of Salt and Plumeria: A Sacred Connection

The scent of salt and plumeria on the breeze. The afternoon sun warming black lava rock. The imposing silhouette of Hualālai watching over us. I can still feel the first real wave I caught right here on the Big Island. It wasn't just the glide—it was the whole world coming alive.

I remember paddling out at Kahaluʻu Bay, looking back at the shore and seeing the ancient Kuʻemanu Heiau. A temple built by my ancestors, the aliʻi, dedicated to the sacred art of heʻe nalu, or wave sliding. That's when I understood. Here, on this island, surfing isn't just a sport. It's a connection to our history, to this land, to the very spirit of Hawaiʻi.

People talk about Oahu's North Shore, and for good reason. It's the Seven Mile Miracle, the big stage. But the Big Island... this is Hawaiʻi's untamed heart. Our waves don't break over soft, forgiving sand. They thunder over raw, black lava reefs, forged by Pele herself.

Getting to our best spots isn't always a simple drive to a parking lot. Sometimes it's a long haul down Saddle Road, a bumpy ride in a 4x4 through a forest of thorny kiawe trees, and a final hike over jagged ʻaʻā lava just to touch the water. This isn't a drawback—it's a filter. It keeps the crowds thin and the experience pure.

Surfing on the Big Island is a privilege, one that is earned through effort, understanding, and above all, respect. This is my offering to you—a map to our waves and the culture that surrounds them.