Matt Warshaw interviewed Ken Bradshaw in 1988, for an Outside magazine article titled "The Divided Rulers of Waimea Bay." Bradshaw was 36 when this conversation took place.

Is big-wave surfing really all that dangerous?

No, not really. It can be. But after you study it, after you have an understanding of what you're getting into, it's not that risky. It's like driving on the freeway. Once you know what you're doing, it doesn't seem like such a big deal to be doing 60, even though you could conceivably die any second. Skiing is ten times as dangerous as surfing big waves. Jogging on the sidewalk is more dangerous than surfing big waves.

The big-wave barrier for a lot of people seems mostly psychological.

That's right. It was like during that 1974 Smirnoff contest at Waimea, when all these competitors were on the beach fuckin' crying before their heats, just terrified. Then they went out, caught a couple of waves, came back in and were totally stoked.

But the magazines, and a lot of big-wave surfers too, play up the danger.

Of course they do. Tell 'em what they want to believe. That's how you sell more magazines, or more videos, or whatever. People want the fear. They want to be scared.

When was this? [Looking at a set of oversized laminated blow-up photos of Bradshaw paddling for, and not catching, a huge Waimea wave. A group of surfers, apart from Ken, are in the picture]

November 3rd, last year. Huge, and so amazingly clean. I rode my 9' board the whole day and was getting away with it, easily. This was the afternoon Brock broke his magic board.

Midday. And this huge set comes through, a big black one. This wave stood up, the biggest wave of the day, it was tremendous, and everybody ran like hell. I knew right where to go, so I turned and paddled straight to my spot.

Is this the biggest wave you've ever paddled for at Waimea?

No, but it's right up there. [Points to first picture; some surfers are also paddling for the wave, others are paddling over it.] See here, I've already turned and started paddling. That's Charlie [Walker] paddling for it. That's Rodger Erikson. Alex Cooke. Here's David Ing and Clyde Aikau; Foo is paddling over here. Ing's already backing out. Charlie's in the best place, but he's too far outside. They all ran too far out. That's the thing about Waimea, the line-up is really just this one, little, tiny spot. And you gotta sit on that spot, no matter how big it is.

Charlie was yelling, "Go for it!" and basically giving up 'cause he can't get over the ledge. I don't know if he really wanted it.

And you think Mark should have been yelling you in you as well?

He should have been, yeah. It makes a difference. That second judgment means a lot. you're paddling hard as you can, you're looking down this incredible thing—and this wave filled up the whole bay—it makes a difference for someone to have a look at what you're getting into and then giving you a push.

Were you aware of Mark paddling up the face?

If the situation was reversed, would you yell Mark in?

What's happening here [points to third picture].

This is where I should have got to my feet. Easy, if I would've had a bigger board, my 10-footer. I'm paddling full speed. And you can see, Mark is really looking at me. See how vertical it is? And Alex is looking, too, kind of slowing himself down to see what I'm going to do. [Points to fourth and final shot; speaks of himself in third person] Here's Mark pulling back, making sure he doesn't go over the falls. And like I say, Ken should have already been on his feet.

At the top of my lungs. It's one of those things . . . [long pause]. I'll kick myself in the ass forever for not going. That's why I made these blow-ups. Waves like this come so seldom. And you work so hard to get everything lined up, to find that little tiny X where you can catch it. So this is something I never want to forget. I had the opportunity and I didn't take it. These pictures are going on my wall. It's a message to myself.

How long does it take you to shape a 10-footer?

Not much, just little changes here and there. For me, each board kind of reflects whatever my latest experience was at Waimea; whatever mood I'm in afterward. If I'm having a hard time catching waves, the next board I make will be a little thicker, a little longer.

I try. I could eat better. Compared to my friends, I do great. I'm a lacto-ovo vegetarian. Eggs and dairy products are alright. I eat fish occasionally, maybe six times a month. No red meat, absolutely none. I think that's been 18 years now. In the beginning it was a health and financial thing, and moral, too. Then the moral and financial reasons sort of dropped off, and it became just health.

I don't smoke. I've never once been drunk. I drink wine once in a great while, just a glass or two, never more. I've never had hard alcohol, ever. I've taken a couple of sips, to see what it tastes like, just out of curiosity. The only time I ever got stoned was when I was really young, like 15. My dope-smoking phase lasted about six months.

Not that much. As long as you surf a lot, that's the only real conditioning you need. The more you surf, the more conditioned you'll be. But if the waves are flat, I'll jog on the beach just to keep the stamina up. I do some light weights and calisthenics.

What's your routine when the surf is big?

I always check the surf from right in front of my house [near Kammieland]. From there I can tell how big it. First thing, I always take a hot shower, to warm up my body. I've learned through the years that when you have a body as large as mine you have a real warm-up problem. I've got so much mass, that it really helps to get hot first. Like, when I play tennis, for the first half-hour I'm nowhere. It takes me a full hour before I'm really warmed up. I surf best when I've been awake for at least two hours.

Do you watch it for a long time before paddling out?

Almost always, yes. I check it for at least a half-hour, usually an hour, timing sets and everything. I'm wearing warm clothes, stretching while I'm watching, getting my body warmed up. I want to be sweating before I put my trunks on.

For sure. When I go out, I know I'm going surfing, man; I know I'm going to surf for no less than two hours, and it could be more than five hours. I'm always up at least an hour before dawn, and I have a bowl of this luke-warm seven-grain oatmeal stuff, like mush, with some added food yeast. A couple cups worth. I call it my gruel. It's sort of green-brown. When you're out for four or five hours straight, you don't want to burn out, and a bowl of that stuff lasts; it lasts almost all day. Maybe I'll come in and have a piece of fruit, and some water, then go back out again.

You've mellowed some with age. Were you really the animal they claimed you were ten years ago?

What do you think about how you were back then, during the aggro phase?

I've thought about that a lot, and I think it's just—I wanted to be left alone, so I could ride waves. Except I choose one of the most crowded places on the planet [Sunset Beach] to do it.

So you really bit chunks out of surfboards?

Well, that seemed better than beating the guy up. It's just such a psych-out.

What's the technique? I mean, you're biting into foam and fiberglass.

Well, let's back up. Years ago I saw Ben Aipea slap a fin off a guy's board. And I thought, "Now, 

 cool." He didn't punch anybody, he got his aggression out, and the guy had to leave the water. That just seemed really efficient. I can still remember the first fin I ever slapped off, and how surprisingly easy it was. Palm of the hand, 

 one pop, and the fin was laying on its side. Easy. So it was fins for a while. But that sort of got old, people had seen it, and it didn't have the impact it once did. And then I saw Charlie Walker bite into a guy's rail, and I knew I'd found the next thing. It was incredible. This guy's looking at his board with a big chunk out of the rail, and he couldn't even speak, he was so blown away. The sight of a man biting a surfboard was that mind-bending.

Do you remember your first time doing it?

Of course. It was an Aussie guy, and I stared at him the whole time, right into his eyes, holding his board like a sandwich, and I was going 

A whole mouthful. Then I spit it at him, and just motioned to the beach, and he paddled in.

You're pretty friendly in the lineup now, what happened?

My reputation precedes me. You put in the groundwork—or the mouth-work—and people just back down before anything even starts.

No, not really. I don't know. It's kind of a shitty way to deal with a problem, and it wasn't the most mature thing to do. But it sure worked.

Do you remember meeting Mark Foo for the first time?

It was Sunset, probably in 1976. He struck me as being a young, aggressive dog-and-hog surfer. I think Bobby Owens introduced us, but I'm not sure.

Yeah, 'cause he was hustling me for waves.

No, no, he was too smart to get in a situation with me like that. But he was the new kid on the block, letting everyone know he was going to stay for a while.

He told me about this really good afternoon at Sunset where he broke his board, and you lent him one of yours.

I remember that, yep. I appreciate talent. He was already a good surfer. Not fantastic, but good.

He said the board was junk, but he really appreciated the loan.

[Laughs] The board was fine. Mark's just a lot smaller than I am, it probably rode like a tank.

What is it about Foo that bothers you so much?

All the self-promotion. If you're good enough, the world will find out by itself. It should be up to others to determine if you do or don't get recognition. I learned that approach from guys like Eddie Aikau, Kimo Hollinger, Ricky Grigg, Peter Cole. None of them were self-proclaiming. Anytime somebody is self-proclaiming, in the back of their minds, they really don't really believe they're as good as they want the world to think they are. When Mark gets a couple of years older, I think you won't hear as much out of him.

Mark told me a couple of years ago that he think's he the best guy out at Waimea. Where do you think you are in all that? How do you assess yourself at Waimea?

When I'm really on, I can make things happen. But somebody else could be really on too, on the same day, and be even better. What I think the world sees in me is a very consistent surfer. I'm out there whenever it breaks.

Do you resent Mark for saying things like that?

Sometimes, yeah. But those feelings aren't as strong in me as some of the other guys. I'm actually the one who tends to defend poor Mark.

Two years ago, there was that thing Foo wrote in Surfing magazine about how he'd ridden the biggest wave ever. And Rick Grigg called me one night—and this guy's a Ph.D., he's 50 years old—he called me going, "Who the fuck does this little kid think he is?" I couldn't believe it. It was 11 at night. And I sort of calmed him down.

Just that Mark's coming at this whole thing from another place, another school of thought.

Well, you've banged your own drum a bit too. Orange boards, lots of stickers, lots of sponsors.

Well, yes. In a way. I mean, I'm kind of the bridge between Ricky and Mark, if you look at it that way. Ten years ago, I was a toned-down version of Mark. I had these big Bradshaw-Hawaii stickers on my board. And then, yeah I went for those really bright-colored boards, the orange and yellow ones. Some of the same guys that are now giving Mark a hard time, ten years ago they were giving 

 a hard time, too. "Brag-shaw," that kind of thing. I guess that's why I sometimes defend Mark.

The difference is, you and Mark are professional surfers, where the other guys don't surf for a living.

Exactly. They've got to go bang nails, or trim trees or sand boards, while Mark and I go surfing. So what Mark's doing I don't totally disagree with. I just think he's overdone it a bit. Or maybe it's just that I care more than he does about what other people think.

Has Mark fully arrived as a big-wave surfer, do you think?

[Long pause] I don't think he's really there yet, not quite. I think he has the potential. Despite everything, Mark Foo is a friend of mine, and I respect him for where he can yet go. But he gets ahead of himself. Mark's done this before, where he jumps the gun.

He wants more than he's earned. He gets ahead of himself. When he first got here [the North Shore], he went for the fame and glory right off the bat, and there was like a six-year period where his ability had to try and catch up to all the publicity. Like, he was the biggest brown-noser with the photographers. He'd hang out with Bobby Owens, just to find out where Bobby was going so he could get his picture taken. And, you know, it worked. Mark got a lot of pictures, a lot of cover shots. My interpretation is that he does it for the glory, not the pure satisfaction.

No, I take it back. Yes, it's both. But satisfaction alone is not the motivating factor. I mean, guys like Roger Erickson will go out there and take off on the biggest wave they can find, do or die, and could give a shit about the picture. Mark always, 

 wants the moment captured and presented.

Would he be out there with you on a closeout day if there weren't cameras on the beach, do you think?

That's a good question. That's a damn good question. I don't know. Again, I look at Mark and see the potential. And yeah, I think that when it's all said and done, his heart is probably in the right place. But if I had to pick one person to go out there with on a closeout day, I don't know if it would be Mark.

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