Jacob Kelly Quinlan is river surfing. It’s hard to put into words the magnitude of positive impact he has on the river surfing community. Which is why we are honored to have him as a guest writer today! Prepare yourself for a man’s journey of how and why he does what he does. Want to follow Jacob’s river surfing escapades more closely? Go ahead and give him a follow on Instagram @jacob.kelly.surfs
Confessions of a Landlocked Surfer
By Jacob Kelly Quinlan
Before I get started I just want to take a second to thank Kirk for all his hard work. I love following the @Land_Locked_Surfing
My story probably isn’t much different from yours. The surf bug sunk bite me in warm, far off waters. It was a thrill like no other but strangely, it felt some how familiar. The ocean hugged me like the embrace of a loved one. Sure, the saltwater took some getting used to (or the rash on my nipples if you’re looking for the bloody details), but riding my first wave was as if the ocean was already inside me, like a favourite song. The act of surfing played the melody out loud.
Let’s back it up a bit. I grew up in small town Alberta. Not quite like chickens running around but plenty of white picket fences and friendly neighbors. I was raised with three brothers, a golden retriever and played hockey for 13 years of my maturing life. I earned good grades, hit Lake Louise or Fortress Mountain once or twice a year and did my best not to stand out too much. About as Canadian as Maple Syrup, eh? Then off to university I went. You know, get a degree, get a good job, raise a family… I had a good handle on how my life was going to work out.
Then surfing took over.
“I don’t know, I just want to get out of here.” That was my cousin Courtney telling me she was signing up for a work visa in Australia and I should go with her. I’m not sure if it was me who agreed or the Captain Morgan Spiced Rum but after some paperwork and 24 hours in a cushy airplane chair, I was in the land down under, feeling the ocean on my bare skin for the first time in my life. Within a week I was on a six-day Surf Safari with 20 or so best friend strangers sleeping on the beach and discovering this new musician named Jack Johnson. We learned about swell direction, tides and how wind affects waves. We told campfire stories and sang over the crackle of the fire. We laid awake under the stars too excited to sleep. Our days spent surfing, sunbathing and riding the bus to our next surf beach. Seconds seemed like hours. Every moment, a memory. To this day I feel deeply connected to that trip. To me it was a model of how I want to live each day.
We laid awake under the stars, too excited to sleep. We awoke at first light with the promise of new waves. The whole day was spent in water or on sand. Hours became seconds. Every moment, a memory.
However, the real story begins after returning to the Great White North. I’ve heard of culture shock before but trying to wear flipflops with board shorts in -20° Celsius weather is a whole different kind of shock. My first impulse was buying a 42″ Koa wood pintail longboard and styling out my sidewalk surfing. Bombing hills with the U of L Surf Club connected me with other recovering surf addicts. We watched every surf movie my dial up connection would let me download until my internet provider asked me to stop. I mimicked the motion of surfing on parking blocks, shopping carts, snow, four wheels, two wheels… My birth certificate may have said Calgary but my heart was still back in the sand.
So yeah, that whole life plan I had figured out? That faded about as quickly as my tan turned pale after returning from surfing one of my favorite salty breaks. All time and resources was spent on finding my way to Mexico, California, Costa Rica, Canada’s East and West Coast. I finished my degree and even went back to university for a second one. Summers and student loans allowed me to escape when needed but the one thing that kept pulling me back home was strong family roots and the support of my three brothers. No matter how much the ocean called, Calgary was still my home.
In between finals and tropical getaways, Jeff Brooks sent me a newspaper clipping of him surfing the Bow River. My surf buddy and Tofino roommate was pictured surfing a “wave” no taller than his ankles (click here to see the original article). When he explained the wave was stationary I was a little, let say… resistant. It’s funny now looking back on how stupid I thought the concept of river surfing was compared to ocean surfing. Regardless of my hesitations, I eventually caved and made the trip out to the Kananaskis with Jeff to surf the glacial fed waters of the Kananaskis River. I don’t know what it was about that day in late May 2006; The fresh smell of pine trees, the colour of the frigid water or the mountains rising out of the river valley right in front of my eyes. But when I stood up and surfed that day it was the exact same feeling I had in Australia. Only this time the wave I was surfing was right here at home.
It’s funny now looking back on how stupid I thought the concept of river surfing was compared to ocean surfing.
Surfing rivers began as training for the ocean. I had more wave time in a single session at the Kan than a week of ten second rides in Mexico. Neil Egsgard and the Alberta RSA crew took me exploring every Spring or any other chance of pioneering new waves. I found barreling river waves, head high river waves, and dynamic river waves that changed beneath my feet as I rode them. The best part; I didn’t have to get on a plane and face the lineups. These were world class and endless waves running 24 hours a day without a soul in sight. The only locals we ran into were some scary ass Canadian Geese. I think now less afraid of snakes after hearing those things hiss.
About five or six years in, Neil and I found ourselves boarding a ferry at the Horseshoe bay terminal. We weren’t on our way to Tofino like many other landlocked surfers before us. We were on our way back up the mainland to the Sunshine Coast. Our destination was a tidal rapid called Skookumchuck Narrows. Because the standing wave works with the tides we knew the exact time of day it was working, how long it would be surfable and the exact size of the face. If on the first day I heard about river surfing someone told me I would be driving 14 hours to surf a stationary wave I wouldn’t have been able to stop laughing in disbelief. But as I held the rail of the the BC Ferry and filled my lungs with in the ocean air, I realized I wasn’t travelling this far just to “train for the ocean ”. Those days were over. That was the day I realized I was a river surfer. I wasn’t done surfing ocean breaks but I knew my life would never be the same again.
That was the day I realized I was a river surfer. I wasn’t done surfing ocean breaks but I knew my life would never be the same again.
My addiction brought me to new waves. Seeking out most of the major river wave communities in North America and even over to Europe to surf the birthplace of it all, Munich Germany’s Eisbach wave. Surf Anywhere was invited to speak at the Wave Building Forum (Forum Flusswellen). From there we continued on to tour Europe, surfing ten new waves, most of which were man-made using a variety of methods and materials. We were researching for our own wave building projects and I was out to find that feeling I had on the beaches of Australia’s east coast.
There are many differences and similarities between surfing an ocean wave and surfing a river wave. The thing I notice most is surfing requires a kind of silent focus. Rivers are loud and especially in the white water where waves are found. Your ears are filled with white noise of a raging river and with your surroundings are constantly changing your brain can’t move fast enough to rely on vision to process your environment. Taste and smell can’t really help you either so the completely relies on touch. Your feet planted firmly on the board beneath you, the river begins to wash away your body and everything that is carried with it. All your hopes and worries. All of the pains and pleasures of this world. You can’t see five seconds ahead of you or five years back. You are poured into the present moment and become one with the constantly changing river flowing under you at 30 cubic meters a second. For a brief moment you transcend to a medium that spreads across the entire globe. It is high in the sky, under the earth, and it courses through the veins of you and I. It only lasts for sublime moment but in that moment you are free.
Today I continue to fly and drive to find freedom and flow on river waves around the world. I help the landlocked pioneer new river waves and help them start efforts to build waves in the rivers of their hometowns. I teach beginners to the sport and spread a message of etiquette and safety. Above all, I work to preserve a culture that is unique to river surfing. One of respect and tradition.
So my confessions are these. I have dedicated my life to something that very few people in the world even know about. It has no promise of job security or retirement savings. As I type this my own tooth is wondering when I can afford to have it’s cavity filled. Too often I cut my grocery budget and live off butter pasta and apples to save for my next surf trip. I wrap myself in neoprene and drive to the mountains in in a snow storm to get another fix. I look around my home and don’t see it filled with expensive things. No garage stocked with toys and tools. Some say I’m chasing a dream or others think I need to grow up. Maybe they are right. But what they don’t get to see is a home filled with memories. Photos of life changing experiences that unlocked my deeper calling. Scars on my body from the times I pushed what I thought was possible. Wrinkles on my face, not from stress, but from way too much time on the cool water under the hot sun. Most of all, a list of 78 river waves I’ve surfed around the world and on my way to hitting 100 this year. A life of chasing surf is not one I recommend to most but I’m happy to know there are people out there reading this who hear it’s calling and that is what binds us together as one big landlocked family.
– Jacob Kelly Quinlan
Want to follow Jacob’s river surfing escapades more closely? Go ahead and give him a follow on Instagram @jacob.kelly.surfs
Keep the Stoke Alive!
Kirk
