It certainly did-and then some- last July, when the largest south swell in recent memory struck the Hawaiian Islands. On Maui the waves had everyone buzzing, especially at Maalaea, possibly the fastest and probably the rarest wave in the world. Rarest because it takes just the right direction-a swell precisely from the south-to send waves screaming over the shallow reef within the large bay. Kahoolawe and Lanai hover on the southern horizon like a naval blockade, cutting off even slightly westerly or easterly swells.
As a longtime surfing photojournalist, my infatuation with Maalaea dates back to 1975, my first visit to Maui. A small, perfect wave at Maalaea caught my attention and changed my life. I returned in the summer of 1977 and rented a condominium directly in front of the break, but the largest swells reached only three feet. Visits in 1978, 1983 and 1984 came up equally short. Stories of six- to eight-foot waves at Maalaea were told, the stuff of seeming myth, swells that must have rolled in when I was out.
Determined to photograph the next one, I moved to Maui in 1985 and waited. And waited. Years later I moved to Hawaii Island, but I always kept an eye on Maalaea. Summer swell in 2003 and 2005 seemed promising, with occasional six-foot waves. But I was not after occasional; I was after consistent. I began thinking bigger waves here were just the stuff of legend and hyperbole. Fool me once, OK. Twice, fine. But multiple times?
Fast-forward to 2022. In early July an exceptionally large swell-from due south-was forecast. As each day passed, the outlook improved: Perhaps the soothsayers spoke sooth, the seers truly saw. The swell hit Tahiti and went off the Richter scale, and I booked my flight to Maui. Because this was not my first rodeo trying to wrangle Maalaea, I tried not to get my hopes up, especially since I'd been bucked so many times before.
I arrived on Maui a day ahead of the swell. After a sleepless night I showed up early on a Saturday morning and barely scored a parking spot-the first indication this was no normal day but perhaps a lucky one. I gathered my camera equipment and rushed toward the Maalaea Kai condos. Along the way I saw several prominent surfers: Kai Lenny from Maui, Michael Ho from Oahu, Torrey Meister from Hawaii Island.
I looked at the surf in utter shock: Solid six- to ten-foot sets rolled through the lineup. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Kai Lenny, on the other hand, knew just what to do. If there were one standout surfer present, it was that revered Hawaiian waterman. "The last time I saw it close to anything like this was in 2005 when I was 13 years old," says Kai. "This was the biggest Maalaea I had ever seen, and everyone else said the same thing. Not just the biggest, but the most consistent, too."
Over the next two days the Maui locals stole the show, but other Hawaiians stood out as well. Michael Ho, a former Pipe Masters winner and Oahu North Shore veteran, had been chasing Maalaea much longer than I had. He made the most of-and often didn't make it out of-the reeling barrels. "Surfing here is all about the riding inside the tube," Michael says. "The waves were so good that if you didn't make it out of the tube, it didn't matter, because you are in there for so long anyway."
The second day was even larger than the first, and the swell all of us had waited decades for brought a feeling of vindication. "We all grew up here wanting to surf this wave, but there was disbelief when it finally happened," Kai says. "The feeling in the lineup was euphoric and almost did not feel real. Each day, I surfed for ten hours, because I knew when it was over, it might be several more decades until it happens again."
We might be too old to surf such waves by then, but whether it's next year or decades on, we will wait-and persevere.
