Far from the Maddening SUPers?

As predicted, the SUP (Stand Up Paddleboard) was going to become popular, über popular. Spend a Sunday morning at the backline of Muizenberg Corner and you'll witness the sort of marine mayhem best left to a Sponge Bob Squarepants cartoon.

Besides a plethora of other watercraft in use or misuse, the SUP phenomenon is something of a focal point for a number of reasons. Besides the sheer scale of the craft, the whole act of SUPing draws unnecessary attention to itself because it's fundamentally ungraceful when compared to other “surfing” activities. Perhaps it’s due to the proliferation of neophyte SUPers at spots like the Berg; experts do look somewhat less cumbersome. For me, there's the endless ungainly shovelling married to that jittery muscled pose best suited to tightrope artists, and let's not venture near the murky territory of SUPing apparel! SUPers are undoubtedly made of ”The Right Stuff” - they have little need for neoprene the world over. Whether they are waddling between North Sea ice flows or lolling about at some Balinese dreamscape, SUPers only require baggies and a rashie. These hardy fashionistas are redefining surf fashion; I couldn’t help notice a particularly fashion conscious gondolier donning what appeared to be a pair of undersized Calvin Klein briefs with an Hawaiian floral print. There’s no refuting these guys (and gals) are sculpted of the same stuff as their carbon fibre oars (sorry, "paddles") which bear an uncanny resemblance to Maori traditional weapons, but I digress!

SUPs look and act like nuclear aircraft carriers; I wouldn't be surprised to see an F-18 on short finals having mistaken one for the USS Nimitz. My issue is that they demand respect without earning respect, particularly at a surfing nursery such as Muizenberg. Congregants tend huddle beyond the break, which is great, and compose an almost picturesque tableau against the rising sun over False Bay, but it's when the sets arrive that all goes awry.

SUPers tend to ignore the direction of a breaking wave; perhaps it's once again the sheer scale and easy paddle-in of their Arthurian steeds that preclude them from committing to ride only left or right across the face of the wave. I spent some time watching them weave a tapestry of mayhem through all the other watercraft with little or no concern for anyone but themselves and their preppy SUPing spouses. They scoop left, then shovel right, feint, grunt and then fade into something that looks like a 50s drop-knee cutback married to a bout of constipation, followed by another directional switch with no regard for the host of other water users, most of which are now fossilised by the fear of being mowed down.

Most SUPP rides end with an almost palpable air of supreme accomplishment followed by a flurry of digging to make it back to the take off zone somewhere near the Kalk Bay harbour! It's not so much the sport of SUPing itself, each to their own, but rather their insistence on governing an already excessively congested line-up with no concern for those further down the take-off chain! It's pointless competing with a SUP in full oar swinging commitment down the line, unless of course you have some form of nuclear deterrent or an afterburner!

What constantly puzzles me, besides the bewildering pre-SUP yoga routines in the inter-tidal zone, is that they seem to be sub-consciously drawn to the busiest areas of the line-up, and then waddle on the outside, monopolising the break as if they are of Royal Hawaiian descent. It's all a tad confusing to an average aging surfer like me, but surely a demarcated zone at certain beaches for these behemoths would go a long way to alleviate unnecessary tension, that inevitable lawsuit or serious injury. Perhaps, in the case of Muizenberg their reluctance to scoop further down the beach is dictated by real practicalities.

Yes, lugging a SUPP 300 metres down Muizenberg beach would be punishment enough for their sins, but the upside but would allow SUP jockeys to show off the benefits of their impressively toned core muscles. The other obvious issue is of course sharks, but given the iniquitous price of their gondolas and the tangle of obligatory peripheral devices, a Sharkshield would be de rigueur, and preclude the need for any Sharpspotters in a SUPers only zone. Perhaps a daisy chain of Sharkshield donning SUPPer's could offer similar protection as shark nets, by offering a compromise of sorts, and forming a protective shield for all other water users. This symbiotic solution would mean that SUPers could remain in the normal surfing area providing they don a Sharkshield and practice a modicum of surfing etiquette.

Paddles in sky stuff no doubt! Unless of course someone is smeared into the pelagic zone and seriously injured, the Boswell Wilke SUP circus will grow in popularity. Yes, SUPing is here to stay, it’s the new-Golf, now with oars and a lifetime subscription to Men's Health or GQ.

Come on guys, let’s set up some protocols so everyone, can enjoy the ocean because I’d like to think that FUN and not core muscle conditioning is the real reason for getting your sinuses flushed every weekend!

“Let’s go SUPPING now!” (should be hummed to the tune of the Beach Boys “Surfin' Safari!” while drinking a triple latte)

Let’s get this straight right from the outset, I’m not against SUPS per se, it’s the attitude of the inexperienced SUPPER that irks me. Another point - this rant isn’t aimed at the likes of Laird Hamilton, Rob Machado, or experienced watermen who have an intimate knowledge of the ocean and its unwritten highway code. Oh no, my crosshairs are hovering over those lifestyle magazine poseurs who think a carbon fibre paddle and a rather large chunk of fibreglass adorned with a retro Hawaiian print underfoot is a passport to the sanctum sanctorum of the backline. Countless images of SUPPERs silhouetted against a gilded sunset, shovelling away at a glassy sea as seagulls hover overhead adorn the glossy spreads of lifestyle magazines, and beckon like a bevy of Homeric sirens.

There’s a problem though, lurking amongst those leather armchair athletes are those who think the ocean is one large Virgin Active Gym, with a free lifetime membership - something like a rather large watery playpen where they can flex their show muscles with paddle in hand and chin pointed squarely at the horizon, all to the dulcet strumming of a ukulele. In most cases these wannabe gondoliers have tried their hand at kayaking or surf skiing, but that’s old hat or too much graft for them. Those faded Men’s Health stickers that adorn their garaged surfskis don’t look quite like the chick magnets they were a couple of summers back. It’s time for a new lifestyle pursuit, and hey, there’s space in the activity den (garage), and the Prado’s looking somewhat sparse with nothing strapped to the racks.

Sadly, huge wads of disposable income don’t often come with much common sense or humility, and that’s what fuels my fantasies of chainsaws and SUPs locked in mortal combat. Despite the sheer mass of a SUP, buffed neophyte SUPPERs always seem intent on heading for the most congested line-ups. Surfing nurseries such as Muizenberg are NOT the place for SUPs simply because an unpiloted SUP in the soup is about a thousand times more lethal than a cruise missile, or say Sally “Roxy” Billabong’s Malibu cartwheeling towards you on a paddle out. For crying in a SUP, head down the beach, go dig about at Sunrise Beach, where you can commune with tetchy Great Whites and rotting seals. Better still, head for a dam, lagoon, the canals of Venice or perhaps even Tafelberg Reef at 60 feet. It’s a whole lot safer for all concerned and doesn’t mean that you’ll have to cut back on your monthly wine club expenses, or cancel your lifetime GQ subscription because of that pending lawsuit.

Can these latte-drinking paddlers and Surfers enjoy the same surf zone? I seriously doubt it – given the fact that one SUP in the water means that more will inevitably plough their way into the line-up, get waves earlier and frustrate the pecking order. Alpha males and paddles will soon be connecting in creative ways, and there’s no telling how cheeky body boarders and those bathing capped False Bay pensioners will take to having a SUP at their local spot. The bottom line is that ignorance and the ocean do not mix. Add to the mix a plethora of other surf related craft and you have a recipe for marine mayhem. Once again, education should be your paddle! Hey, I’d feel nothing selling a container load of SUPs to some Bedouin nomads in this economic climate, but deep down I do think it’s vital that first time ocean SUPPERs should be educated. I’m pretty certain surf dealers do that anyway, but I guess you’ll always encounter egos that are beyond those cautionary tales about ‘turning your back to the ocean’, or ‘swimming straight after a Sunday lunch’. Perhaps pro-active local municipalities could demarcate areas where overnight SUPPERs could shovel away at the ocean until the next fad blows in on the back of a 40 knot South Easter.

Once again, experienced wave-riding SUPPERs can ignore this article and then take to my inbox with a flamethrower, but you might want to take note of this tidbit. An extremely reliable source has told me tow-in SUPPING is the next big thing! He whispered something about motorboats, cables and SUPs – it should be uber cool and prohibitively expensive!