Two Feet

The waves never get over two feet. Head-high and barreling…two feet. Ankle-slapping dribble and blown-out…two feet. Epic long-period northwest swell with off-shore winds…still two feet. The waves never get over two feet.
I was shuffling my feet in the foam dust on the floor and looking at a picture of my boss getting tubed on a glassy over-head wave. He came out of the glassing room and catching my gaze, asked what I thought of the picture. “How big was it that day?” I asked with youthful enthusiasm. “Two feet”, he replied, my smile turning up into a confused grimace. “How could that be two feet?” I thought as I shuffled the dust into swell lines on the floor. The wave was over his head, he is almost six feet tall…therefore in my single year of college logic, that wave was eight feet!
That weekend he and I went surfing. We went to a local sand bar that always had waves no matter how asleep the pacific was. Looking at the swell from the cliffs I could see double-overhead peaks exploding onto the shallow sand-bars. “Looks like some fun little two-footers out there.”, as he suited up and strapped on the leash to his 6’6” mini-gun. Once again I was confused, the waves were huge! Bigger than I thought it would be. And me, shaking in the cold clutching my standard 6’0” shorty, “Two feet…” I chuckled to myself as I waded in the shore-dump.
And we fast forward two years, past big swells, two girl-friends, and a year and a half of somewhat attending higher education. I’m 20 years old and enjoying the sun and the warm trade winds caressing the waves on Oahu’s south shore. A new, solid southern hemisphere swell was hitting and i'm getting ready to paddle out. My new friend is beside me, a local boy who to my surprise estimates the wave height at “Two footah, brah”. And again I don’t understand. The sets are almost head-high. Hollow, long rights are screaming along the depth-challenged coral bottom. A very critical wave, if you asked my opinion. But i’m out there, surfing the “Two footah’s.”
The next day, the swell had died, leaving the local crew scratching their heads in disbelief. I brought a long board to try and milk the swell, and curiously asked a new friend how it was looking, “Small kine two’s.”, he replied under a thick pidgin accent. “Out there anyway.” I said as I walked down the staircase to the water. Barely knee-high sets were crumbling, and for the first time I thought two feet was and over-statement.
But, surfing the slop, I came to the realization that all surfers eventually come to. Size is relative and inherently, unimportant. Two feet is the standard, downplayed, optimistic or accurate wave measurement. Two feet can be big, small, hollow or mush but one things for sure… When you ask someone how big it is (your local shaper, or the local in the parking lot) and they say “Six feet”, bring a friend to take pictures, because it will probably be the swell of the year.