Surfers VS Manopause

You have to be at least a little bit old to remember Quiksilver’s Silver Edition range.

Aimed at the older gentleman surfer circa Y2K, or if you prefer, those experiencing the manopause, it was a concerted effort to keep hold of a sizeable part of the demographic that had probably had cash and probably still wanted to identify as surf, but maybe didn’t love the garish, baggy motif of the era. 

“Look at golf” almost certainly went the marketing department focus group’s top line. Like the Quiksilver ASP Masters world titles of the same era; inclusive, safe spaces for boomers, Silver Edition lasted a few seasons before being put out to pasture. But for a while there, if you had, in a bygone era, rocked n’ rolled and fucken come, many many times, there were premium aloha prints that paired well with reading glasses.

The other day I was chatting to a friend who lives in a corner of the UK where, he reckons, kids don’t surf today. “The only people out there who didn’t have grey hair, were bald,” he chuckled about a recent session. Some forms of surfing have long known about the effect of falling birth rates —  the world’s youngest known kneeboarder, for example, is estimated to be 53. 

But whether or not surfing is getting older is by the by: you definitely are. And while many of the craft related considerations have been thoroughly discussed, this mainly concerns the manopausal surfer’s body, mind and soul.  

Here’s what the NHS website has to say about manopause:

Some men develop depression, loss of sex drive, erectile dysfunction, and other physical and emotional symptoms when they reach their late 40s to early 50s.

As well as mood swings and irritability; loss of muscle mass and reduced ability to exercise; fat redistribution; such as developing a large belly or “man boobs” (gynaecomastia); a general lack of enthusiasm or energy; difficulty sleeping (insomnia) or increased tiredness; poor concentration and short-term memory.

Yikes!

Initial signs of decay

Long before the rot truly sets in, your body is good enough to give you signs. We can all still recall the halcyon days of knowing about hangovers, but not ever really having had one: drinking until the club shuts at 2am, setting the alarm for the dawnie at 6.30 and not really thinking too much of it. Experts estimate age 34 is the tipping point for hangover. After which, while surfing is not to be underestimated as a legit remedy for mild to moderate cases, it essentially becomes a choice of either going drinking or getting up for the early. 

At which point, consider yourself officially peri-manopausal. 

Other indicators hint at uncertain, sub-optimal physiological futures. Like toiletries — and toileting. Probably the next sign is a creeping preference towards the sit down pee (even when not on a boat) as a brief respite from the rigors of your day. Well, and night. Because to the manopausal, sleeping through an entire night without having to get up to pee feels a lot like victory. Or, perhaps you might note that you’re not quite as accomplished at number two’s as you once were. Those same magic days of niteclub plus dawnie prowess, you’re fairly sure your poo-ing was mostly more uniform; magical, one wipe wonders, at clockwork intervals. Nowadays, the only real pattern in your output is: erratic/underwhelming.  

While your boardbag might’ve peaked and begun shrinking, (perhaps you’ll take 2 boards on trips instead of 3 or 4) your wash bag is exploding. New scenes you’re experimenting with include flossing, or you dabble, then develop a habit for the white powder on a surf trip to the tropics: talc. Former Rip Curl honcho Neil Ridgway turned me on to the merits of the talc on boat trips (cornstarch or arrowroot powder, ideally) for the gentleman’s agreement, those humid, chafe prone areas, and I’ve never looked back. Around the same time, on a trip to Mexico, I noticed a slightly older friend had brought one set of fins, and six different types of moisturizer.   

Beyond the point of no return

Meanwhile, an accumulation of niggles and old war wounds, surf traumas and related injuries all start to build up. A perforated eardrum from a nasty wipeout never quite 100% heals, maybe an old rolled ankle you only partially rehabilitated via physio, which then flared up after a bout of post-chlamydia tendonitis balloons on long flights. One knee creaks like a coke can, which while not being super painful, yet, doesn’t exactly instill you with confidence. On lads trips, which might generally migrate westward in the Indian Ocean from The Ments to The Maldives, after sun down, things really start to get crazy when the boys all start to bust out their personal stashes. Of anti-inflammatories.    

Minor medical procedures somehow start to feel like, well if not exactly treats, then accomplishments. I remember asking a well known Australian tour fixture, born the same year as me, how a period of time off at home had been. “How was Australia?” “Epic: I was home for 9 days, I got two moles removed, a wisdom tooth pulled and had a vasectomy.” He was genuinely stoked. 

Considerations when planning surfs might take on another parameter; swell, wind, tide, banks, crowds… and of course meal times. Because not only do you not want it to be too crowded or too low, you mainly don’t want to be too full. Lunch can usually just simply be put back, but dinner? This time of year, for example, it doesn’t get dark till after 10pm around here. So if the tide’s good for the late, then what? Eat an actual dinner then try and paddle out afterwards? That’s crazy talk. So, surf till dark, get home and start cooking at 11pm??? You can really tie yourself up in knots. 

Approximately ten years after the start of the bad hangovers, you might notice not being able to read small print unless you hold it ever further away from your face. The great news here is that it won’t really affect vision in the surf, unless you’re reading stringer dims between sets. Speaking of which, back in the days, you might’ve picked up a friend’s board to give ‘em a bit of shit, “Wow this one’s pretty thick ay… is it your dad’s?” You know, just for fun. Now it’s how far they’ve pushed Settings > Display & Brightness > Text Size.

Severe grumps: back pain / dear beer 

A true sign of the general wear n’ tear of life might manifest in lower back pain. While this is in no way surf specific, surfers are certainly not immune. An anterior pelvic tilt, from arching the lower back is so often the cause of the misery. If you caught one of Kelly’s interviews from Margs, he even mentioned a tight psoas muscle giving him some discomfort. Maybe he is human, after all. Some say stretching the hammies is key to relieving this affliction, others urge strengthening the glutes, others that it’s actually much more about the diaphragm, and not exhaling properly. (It’s actually sort of interesting-ish when you look into it.) But one thing everyone agrees is how much of shitfull mood it puts you in. Shout at the kids, kick the dog, the main side effect of lumbar pain seems to be extreme grumpiness.

Often overlapping in terms of the manopause timeline, and not entirely unrelated, is taking unbending ideological positions on certain bars, mainly based on their pricing structure. Once upon a time, you got banned from bars, perhaps for unruly behaviour. These days, it’s more likely self-imposed boycotts. Away from home, in a major capital city for example, you’re fine with being overcharged, it’s all part of the experience. But round your ends, during normal drinking hours… you have agency, and you’re gonna use it. I’m 18 months into a full boycott of an establishment that overlooks the surf near my house where I once (and only once) was charged €11 (YES, ELEVEN EUROS) for not-quite-a pint of Lagunitas IPA (that took ages and wasn’t that cold). I’m still livid. 

Temperature regulation

While the mano and menopauses are dissimilar in that the manopause is not related to a sudden drop in hormone levels (testosterone only drops around 1% per year among 30-40 year old men), I can relate to hot flushes. In fact, when leaving the house in the morning, one of my main apprehensions about the day ahead is being overdressed, and too hot. In the surf, sun hats are one obvious manopause marker, and a highly useful one. In fact, actually going surfing and non-ironically opting to wear submersible headwear with a chin strap, is just one way in which you’re now unrecognisable to your former, younger self. 

Also: “Actually it’s quite nice now that the wind’s come up” you catch yourself remarking as you try and brush sand off of the beach picnic throw. In terms of lineup homeostasis, the manopause delivers sensitivity quirks at both ends of the spectrum; thus in summer, you’re more likely to trunk it when it’s borderline (to avoid being too hot). But that doesn’t mean in winter you have greater tolerance to cold, quite the opposite; you’re keener to steamer/hood up earlier than ever.    

Earth too, has a temperature regulation device, called wind. And interactions between yours and its might develop certain dogma. Like the older surfer’s relationship with onshore wind being OK, and surfing in a steamer being OK, but never at the same time. There must be order. 

So, one blowy, sunny March afternoon during the Peniche CT I sat at the beach bar up towards the harbour wall drinking delicious Super Bocks (and looking after the car keys) with contest director, Ericeira lord and Coxos ruler Miguel Fortes, while two friends took on the punchy peaks. 

“I don’t surf onshore in a 4/3,” I said to the great man.

“Me neither,” he replied.

As I reached for the glass and the lower back twinged viciously down my right side, I felt like maybe, for once, I’d at least got something fucking right.