Stoked

Profiles in surfing passion and perseverance.

Photo: Daniel Pullen.

Inspired by Tom Dugan.

HE SURFED HIS FIRST ATLANTIC SURFING FEDERATION HEAT AT FIVE.

Joined the Eastern Surfing Association at six, and the National Scholastic Surfing Association at nine. By age 10, Will Deane was traveling the world, and competing in every ESA, NSSA and USA Surfing Prime contest he could get into. The very next year he was winning contests, qualifying for the US Championships, NSSA Nationals and ESA Easterns, and surfing his first pro events. Since then, he’s won four Primes, two Easterns titles and a highly prestigious NSSA National title. Now only 14, Will’s probably won more heats than every Outer Banks professional surfer to precede him combined. And while he has miles to go before matching Jesse Hines’ photogenic success or Brett Barley’s heavy-water rep, Deane may end up being the bigger name. Because while those guys never really cared about winning — hell, they never really wanted to leave town long enough to do contests — Will surfs with one goal in mind: “The WSL Championship Tour,” Will’s father Shawn deadpans. “That’s where he sees himself at some point. And he truly believes he’s gonna get there.” And he’s not even pro yet. Or is he? The world tour’s most sought-after shaper, Matt Biolos, is already kicking him boxes of …Lost boards. And each one gets stickered up from nose to tailpad with doting sponsors: SunBum, Everett Nautical, Oakley, Pro-Lite, Futures, Surf Ears, and — most notably, Quiksilver, who just inked him a three-year deal. “There’s almost no line between professional and amateur anymore, because you can be a paid athlete and still surf amateur contests,” Shawn explains. “In fact, Quiksilver has significant bonus structures built in for national titles.” Keeping all those bosses happy means a lot of time on the road. It might be comps in California or training missions to El Salvador, Nicaragua or Hawaii. Or it might just be surgical strikes Down South to surf all day. Luckily, as a web development/strategist for digital marketing agencies, Shawn can work remotely. So, while Shawn and Will are hunting vid clips or sandbars, his mom Nikki holds down the fort at home and at Secret Spot Surf Shop, which she owns along with native ripper, Leanne Robinson. What about school? The Deanes bent the rules as far as they could with the staff at Nags Head Elementary. But when chasing victories led to too many absences, they found Bridgeway Academy, an online private school with an NCAA-certified program that caters to higherlevel athletes aiming to compete in college and beyond. “He’s an A-B student,” says Shawn. “And as he’s staying on track with his schoolwork, he can continue this path. But it’s not all about the academics and the physical aspects of his development. We also stress the importance of maintaining relationships, communicating with sponsors, and genuinely being a good person.” Fair enough. Being a good surfer, though, is something his folks and teachers can’t really help with. That can only be achieved via the three T’s: talent, tutelage and technology. “Will’s progression has come from video, but it’s not out of vanity,” Shawn says. “Every session, he goes through every clip, dissecting turns, watching in slow mo — it’s his main coaching tool.” Shawn says Will’s competitive success also requires a human touch — mainly his coach Geoff Armstrong, who applies a calm head and cool insight to every stage of every event. Together, they read the ocean starting with the several days leading up to his first heat right down to the second Will steps in the water. “I don’t think Will would’ve won the National or East Coast titles without that strategy,” says Shawn. The final ingredient is a ubiquitous travel companion, Asher Nolan, a veritable surfing Swiss Army Man who’s filled nearly every conceivable role in the industry: pro surfer, surf team manager, surf photographer, surf coach… “More of a mentor,” Asher interrupts. “I just teach Will life lessons, give him advice, and make him understand that, if he wants to be a pro surfer, there’s no handouts.” Asher would know. As a former competitive standout, he helped forge the path that Will’s on today. He also helped coach the Team USA at this summer’s ISA World Juniors. So, Asher

recognizes that just surfing well only gets any competitor so far. “Talent is not enough,” says Asher, “The world stage is so gnarly. There are so many kids coming up from all over, and they’re hungry. So, if you wanna make it, you’ve gotta be able to do it all, in everything from knee-high Virginia Beach to 10-foot Hawaii. You’ve gotta surf through adversity, bring your best moments to heats, and want it more than the next surfer at all times. You’ve gotta live and breathe it.” Luckily, Will’s been doing that since day one. His parents own a surf shop. He lives on a beach that’s never flat for too long and gets really good sometimes. He has a full-time coach, a brutally honest mentor who films all his waves, and a homeschool program that specializes in accommodating budding pro athletes like him. In other words, if Will Deane doesn’t become the first Outer Banks surfer to make it onto the WSL World Tour, nobody should. Except, that same formula’s failed time and again, as the surf industry spotlight can also cause top prodigies to flame out. Or just give up. “Some American kids are spoiled and complain “NEXT YEAR, IT’S A FULL PUSH about everything,” says Asher. “But Will’s not like that. He’s easy to be around and fun to

FOR THE WORLD JUNIORS.” travel with. He just wants to surf all the time.” Most importantly, he wants to do it in a jersey. While most groms are frothing over their next after school free surf, Will’s plotting sessions months in advance, stacking his calendar with major comps and serious training missions. “I want to final at the Nationals and the USA Championships,” Will says, shyly. “Then go on a trip to work on my technique, surf some Junior Pros, and make some heats in the QS here at home. Next year, it’s a full push for the World Juniors.” This July, Will knocked out one of those goals by taking second in his age group at the NSSA nationals. So, if all goes according to plan, it’ll just be bigger and better acronyms from here on out: QS (Qualifying Series), CS (Challenger Series), CT (Championship Tour) — in that order. Because that is the world order. “The sky’s the limit for Will,” Asher asserts. “He’s got all the pieces needed to progress his surfing. And once he puts on a jersey, he gets real fiery. He’s a pretty intense competitor for such a quiet, little kid. But I think he really enjoys it; that’s Will’s time to let his surfing do the talking — and show everyone who he is.”

— Matt Pruett

Photo: Chris Bickford.

Inspired by John Grissim.

EVERY STEP PATTI HOOK TAKES

LEADS TO THE SEA. From posting up on the Jersey Shore full-time the second she graduated high school, to attending college within striking distance of the Outer Banks, to the career paths she chose after moving here during the heady, halcyon days of the early 90s. (At first, the ECU grad waited tables at night so she could spend all day chasing waves; now, the self-employed accountant schedules work around the weekly forecast.) Even her competitive career — which includes pro and amateur wins from VB to PR — was always less about collecting trophies and more about stockpiling time in the water, especially after her son, Grant, was born. “The Eastern Surfing Association events always had tons of families on the beach,” says the 55-year-old, two-time ESA East Coast Champ. “And there was always someone willing to watch him while I surfed.”

So, when you ask what prompted one of the Outer Banks’ most respected shortboarders to suddenly stop standing up, you can bet it was for the same reason.

“It’s simple: I’ve always needed to be in ocean,” Patti says. “Kneeboarding has allowed that to continue.”

The narrative is slightly more complex — and yet all too familiar. Any lifelong athlete knows they’ll have to sacrifice performance for longevity. For surfers, it’s a gradual transition toward floatier equipment that’s kinder to aging muscles and expanding waistlines, usually a longboard or a stand-up paddleboard. Fitness buffs like Patti? They can stay on shortboards well past 50. (Local shaper Lynn Shell still shreds six-foot shapes at the age of 67, and beloved legend Bob Holland actually rode a 7-footer into his 80s.) But even the healthiest humans can’t outrace every ailment, as Patti discovered five years ago on a trip to the Galapagos. “I was following this kid down the beach to a secret spot,” she recalls. “It was kind of a far walk, at the top heat of the day, and my right foot just started to drop. Over the next few months, it would start feeling weak when I surfed. People would be like, ‘Why are you limping? And I’d say, ‘I don’t know.’” Doctors ultimately determined that the cause was multiple sclerosis. As the numbness increased in her back leg, popping up to her feet became borderline impossible. She was faced with a decision: not just how to stay in the water, but how to stay stoked. Then one day, the answer came to her from the man upstairs — or, more specifically, the man living in the apartment above her garage. “I didn’t like the idea of Patti being condemned to a longboard,” says former tenant and veteran surf scribe, Matt Pruett. “Because Patti likes to rip. Patti likes to charge. She’s a shortboarder at heart. Then I went to Mexico while this was first going on, and I saw a group of older kneeboarders just totally destroying it like anyone would on a shortboard. It blew me away. And that’s when it hit me: ‘This is what’s gonna save Patti.’” The second he got home, Pruett rang up local shaper, Dave Rohde. Then he asked Patti’s son, Grant Tyler, to kick in some bucks. Together, they gave Patti a stumpy 5’2” kneeboard. And after just one session, she wasn’t just saved — she was inspired.

Patti began researching equipment and Googling pointbreaks. Most importantly, she began corresponding with the global kneeboarding community, emailing experts for tips on how to adapt. Ordering boards from the best in the world. And adjusting her waveriding approach to a lower center of gravity. “Once I learned to drive with my hips and knees instead of my upper body, that changed everything,” she says. “But basically, I just transferred my surfing obsession to another vehicle. That’s why when people say things like, ‘Oh my God, you’re so strong,’ I say, ‘You don’t understand; it’s not because I’m strong. It’s because there is no other option. I’m never not gonna surf.” If anything, she might just be surfing better than ever. In fact, just 18 months after getting that first board from Rohde, she and Pruett took a trip to his favorite Mexican points. The result? “I watched her go vert on an eight-foot wall at [CENSORED]. Then saw her get barreled at inside [CENSORED],” says Pruett. “I’d say she rips harder on a kneeboard now than she did on a shortboard in her prime.” “And he didn’t even see me when I went back again with my full quiver!” laughs Patti. “But he’s probably right. I bet I’ve gotten more barreled in the five years since I’ve been kneeboarding than in my whole life standing up.” She’s also regained her competitive fire. Last February, Patti headed to Huntington Beach, CA, to compete in the US Kneeboard Titles — and came home the women’s champ. As the only East Coaster in the crew, she may have been the odd one out, but she also says her decades of surfing punchy, Outer Banks conditions is what set her apart. “To be fair, there was only one other woman,” Patti laughs. “But I watched the other competitors, and they’re all more methodical and smooth because they’re all surfing pointbreaks. I don’t have that luxury; I like to smash it.”

That may help her again this September when she heads to Portugal for the Kneeboard Surfing World Titles, where she’ll represent Team USA against countries like South Africa and Australia, where kneeboarding culture runs deep. So what are her chances? “You’re asking me, ‘Does Patti Hook have a shot?,’” laughs Pruett. “Absolutely. And if there’s something like a Women’s Over40 division, forget about it. She’ll smoke anybody.” Patti’s a bit more reserved about her prospects in Portugal. Part of it’s modesty. And part of it’s the realities of her condition. Some days, just getting into a wetsuit takes extra oomph. Add cold water — or a bunch of adrenaline — and her leg can be even less responsive. So, her plan for now is to just stay warm and relaxed. “Some sessions, when my body feels good, I feel like I’m gonna try and win,” she says. “Others, it’s like, ‘Screw it. Just go have fun meeting new people from around the world.’” Actually, that’s the real reason Patti’s back in a contest jersey. Sure, the lifelong competitor loves to win. And she can’t wait to represent her country. But the real reward is the experience of surfing different breaks with a whole new perspective. Immersing herself in a culture that’s extra-tight, super fresh, and always stoked. “Because here’s the other cool thing about kneeboarding,” she says. “The average age is like 55 to 60, and they’re all like me — they all still love surfing for the sake of surfing. Those are the people I want to be around.”

— Stu Nahan

“THERE IS NO OTHER OPTION. I’M NEVER NOT GONNA SURF.”

Photo: Daniel Pullen.

Inspired by Bruce Brown.

SOMETIMES STAYING STOKED MEANS

SWITCHING THINGS UP. Sometimes it means changing locations. And sometimes it means stopping altogether. At least for a little while. Such is the tale of Cody Craig. Since last fall, the lifelong surfer’s been living in Asheville. Totally landlocked for the first time in his life. And that’s saying something for a third-generation Californian who first stood up at the age of two. Whose dad and uncle were both sponsored standouts in the 1960s. Whose grandfather pioneered San Onofre in the late 30s alongside surfing royalty like Dorian Paskowitz. A kid born so deeply into surfing that it wasn’t just a way of life — it was the only way. “We’d go to visit our grandparents in Dana Point, and if you weren’t up at 6am, you missed your ride to San O,” laughs the Cayucos native. “And the rest of my family was real hard on each other. Especially my uncle and cousins. We’d call each other kooks for shuffling on your board or claiming a wave. It was almost military. But it kept our egos in check.” That’s surfing everywhere. If it’s not some relative barking orders, it’s some older kid. That’s how groms learn the rules — and learn to stay humble. Both are important skills around the Central Cal’s more secret reefs, where the great white sharks aren’t half as scary as the local greybeards. “Everyone wore black wetsuits,” Cody recalls. “If you had on any kind of color or a sticker on your board, it was like, ‘Who the f*&k are you!?’ And you couldn’t show any weakness, or they were on you like a pack of dogs. But we knew that we had to be tough if we wanted to come back.” Cody went back. Again and again. In fact, he went harder. With time, he earned a rep for spinning on the most critical waves, and, later, pushing into larger tow-in and paddle-in days on the outer bombies. Meanwhile, he was earning a bigger rep around California as a longboarding prodigy. At 14, he beat heroes like Robert “Wingnut” Weaver in a legendary classic-design event. At 16, his photos anchored a Pacific Longboarder feature on the Craig family. By his 20s, he was riding for Endless Summer’s Robert August and traveling the world, setting up for surfing’s traditional career path. “My plan was always to become a company rep if my pro career didn’t take off,” Cody says. “Which I kind of knew it wouldn’t. [Laughs] But, until then, I was going to ride the sponsor wave as much as possible.” He might be living in So Cal right now slinging trunks. But on a photo trip to Costa Rica he met his true love. A Rodanthe girl named Jaki. In 2008, he chased her east to raise a family — and stumbled upon a surfing paradise. “I was kind of tripping out the first day it got good,” Cody says. “It was like the waves I drew on my notebook in school. In fact, it was a lot like the reef back home, where if you backdoored the barrel, you could get super deep and come out. So, I think growing up there groomed me for Hatteras.” In more ways then one. Where some So Cal pros might have rolled in at full volume, dropping names and drawing attention, Cody quietly surfed by himself — or at least down the beach. But you can only stay hidden on Hatteras for so long. “I remember when he first landed,” says Real Watersports’ Trip Forman. “He was surfing a different peak, but I saw these airs going on, spray flying. He got a million good ones. Then the next time, it was more of a tube day. And he was literally — molecularly — one with the tube. It’s the only way I can describe it.” With time, Cody earned a rep for being this mysto guy who paddled out, got drained — and then disappeared. Or, on small days, showed up on a log and rode the tip over the horizon. And while he never chased the spotlight, it somehow kept finding him. In 2019, a Buxton barrel bagged him O’Neill’s Wave of the Winter for the southern East Coast. In 2021, he linked up with water photog Cody Hammer on a winter cavern that earned an illustrious Red Bull Illume Image Award. Both times, he was actively avoiding the crowd. And yet, Forman says Real ultimately decided to sponsor the world’s least attentionhungry surfer for one very good reason. “Versatility,” says Forman. “Shortboards or fishes, mid-lengths or longboards — even

really old school logs — he does it all, and he does it better than almost anyone.” Back home, the locals might have called him a kook for getting coverage. They might even have vibed him for getting too many good waves. But not here. “Here, if you get a good wave, the respect level goes up,” Cody says. “It’s not like, say, Santa Cruz, where nobody hoots for anyone. People here are stoked for you. They live vicariously through you, and you’re doing the same. And I think that was always part of my problem: in California, I was surfing angry. Here, I’m surfing happy. That’s the difference right there.” Today, Cody says he feels more at home Down South then he does out West. Which is ironic when you consider that, by the time you read this, he’ll have spent a year in Asheville. Because, while he was killing it in the water, his personal life was fixin’ to pearl. “HERE, I’M SURFING HAPPY. “I was drinking too much, basically,” he says

THAT’S THE DIFFERENCE.” frankly. “I needed to come here and clean up my act for my kid’s sake and my own health; to reassess my life and find some balance.” So, rather then come home after 90 days, he stayed put. At least until June, when he slipped back for the week. Rather than hop right in the water, he went straight to his family and did some much-appreciated “honey dos.” Two days later, he still hadn’t paddled out. In fact, he was worried that he’d totally lost it. “I’m just gonna start out on a longboard, so I don’t kook too bad,” he grimaced. Of course, Real’s Insta feed quickly filled with shots of Cody riding the nose with perfect grace and a massive grin. So, does he wish he was back? Did he make a mistake? “It’s funny,” he says. “At first, I felt like I totally blew it. I was totally ashamed. But now, I’m proud of being in recovery. Nobody should feel weak for asking for help. It’s the exact opposite. You should feel empowered.” Instead of bouncing around the ocean, he’ll hike trails in the mountains. Work some finedining — and work on himself. He’s definitely coming home eventually, but for now, he’s staying put. And he’s far from miserable. “I actually think I’m more stoked than ever,” he laughs. “Isn’t that weird?”

— Matt Johnson