"TRENT TALKS ABOUT KAENA POINT," HONOLULU STAR-BULLETIN (1966)

Ron Haworth's Honolulu Star-Bulletin "Surf Spray" column for July 1, 1966, featured Buzzy Trent's take on surfing Oahu's Kaena Point.

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“Surf Kaena Point! Believe me. it’s completely unreal. The currents are unbelievably strong even on a calm day. The bloody fish are so muscle-bound from swimming against the current they curl up in the frying pan.”

Buzzy Trent sat in the lingering heat of a Makaha afternoon and swigged deeply from a bottle of soda. Minutes before he’d returned from a Sunday afternoon Kaena spearfishing trip with Jose Angel. He leaned back, wiped a big hand across his mouth, and expounded on my query.

“To surf it successfully on a big day would be the equivalent of an astronaut landing on the moon—neither of which has been accomplished. It presents more of a challenge than the moon.” he added.

“Listen. Today I was in purple water—purple mind you. And the fish, everywhere were the fish. I speared an aku through the head and then watched as a barracuda knifed from the velvet deep in a flash of speeding silver. Snap! He and the aku were gone. Pau. Another battle of the sea climaxed.”

“You know,” he said swinging the conversation back to surfing, “I actually saw Kaena in January 1958 when it was breaking an unreal 50 feet and Makaha had a 30-foot groundswell. John Severson filmed Kaena that monumental day.”

Most surfers—whether he hangs five in the Galveston slush or sits transfixed through a Bruce Brown production would have asked the next question.

“Is Kaena Point surfable?”

"In my opinion it would be almost impossible and foolhardy to attempt.” Buzzy looked away and said his next words with care. “One mistake, one wrong move, a split second of poor judgment—and what, you’re a loser, because to survive a wipeout in that treacherous white water would be a major part luck, and not swimming skill.

“Most breaks help the swimmer by pushing him toward the beach, but not so at Kaena; there is no beach and the break runs parallel down the Waianae side of the point until it finally backs off in deep water.”

He continued: “I respect it because I dive there and have firsthand experience with the conditions. Jose and I go up and down the anchor chain so as not to lose all sense of direction in the current. But who knows? I was in my prime in 1957 and 1958 and didn’t do it. George Downing didn’t do it, and in my book George is the best.”

Many might consider those words uncharacteristic and even timid on Buzzy’s part. But Buzzy, a charter member in the Surfing Hall of Fame, is also one of the most safety-conscious men in surfing.

Two years ago, this concern spurred him into designing a safety helmet. ‘‘Most fatalities occur when a surfer is struck unconscious and unable to assist in his own well-being,” Buzzy claimed. ‘‘So why not use a flotation type of headgear which would keep the victim’s nose and mouth above water until help came?”

“Do you advise this in big surf only?”

‘‘No, the opposite! Big wave riding has claimed but a single surfer, the Cross case at Waimea [Dickie Cross died at Waimea in 1943], while so-called hot-dogging chalks up numerous serious accidents every year. It’s only logical that over-crowded conditions and waves full of acrobats will eventually spell dented skulls. To each his own. Surfers have no choice but to excel in the conditions which are prevalent in their areas. To me one word sums up the difference between a Hawaiian North Shore surfer and one who plays tricks in the California surf—punishment.”

‘‘Which wave stands above all other in your memory, Buzzy?”

"One at Makaha in '64—but then, for me, all my fondest memories are of Makaha waves. It was eerie,” he said, thinking back, "sitting and waiting, watching the sun rise over the Waianae's to slowly transform the clouds Into cotton candy. I was alone in the water, the beach was deserted, and the point was running 20 plus!

“To surf Makaha point surf correctly a surfer has to hang high and tight across that long wall and save his drop for the bowl. I could feel my board going faster and faster, zipping across the face of the wall like it was alive, and all the while my ears rang with a rapid TA-TA-TA-TA-TA-TAas the rail touched teasingly between, what seemed, giant leaps ”

He looked down the dirt lane to the highway and beyond to the sea lying calm and deceiving.

"It was the ultimate, the highest peak in my 25 years of surfing. Man is nothing to nature "