The privileged few: Localism

This is a bit of an unusual post for Over The Dune. But stick with me…

In the beginning there was light

Mass and matter. And evolution. Life.

Where did it come from? Who knows. Philosophers and scientists and creationists debate it. We’re all agreed it’s been a bloody long time. Let’s call it eternity.

The moon has mooned. Night after night, day after day. Tides and swells have moved water around the globe.

Seas.

Oceans.

Rock carved.

Continents divided.

Utterly beyond our control.

An entire planet. More than we can imagine. And water is the biggest part of it. We’ve got as much chance stopping the moon from orbiting as we have controlling the sea with storm walls.

Even then, there’s still a special way of thinking. They should call it stupidity. Ignorance. Arrogance. But it’s got a grander name. Localism.

Okay, what the hell was all that about?

I’m talking about localism. People who surf in a spot regularly and get angry at newcomers.

In plain English, these are people who claim ownership of the sea. Think about that for a minute.

Ownership of the sea.

It’s impressive that their egos can stretch that far. But mostly it’s bloody stupid.

Fist shaking, a bit of lip service. There’s a chance you might come across an angry oik who likes a bit of tyre slashing or wax on your windscreen whilst you’re in the water (don’t worry, these stories are rare enough that they still make headline news) but in the majority of times, it’s just big talk.

So what do you do about localism?

Sometimes there isn’t much you can do. If you’re spooked, I’m not about to say you should get fighty. But when you’re wondering how something like this can still happen, just know you’re not alone.

If you’re surfing respectfully, within your ability, then localism is just bullying – from full grown adults. I’m begging you not to forget how stupid that is.

What a bunch of herberts.