Hey Zuz, I am confused: What if I am not a Winter Surfer?

I have been dreading this. But the official winter (even in SoCal) is just a month away, and we’re all feeling the shift—especially those of us who don’t enjoy gigantic surf. And this week’s reader feels it too.

‍ Hey Zuz, I’m confused: What if I am not a Winter Surfer?

I’ve been learning over the summer and enjoyed it massively. But now that it’s getting colder—bordering on freezing (I’m on the East Coast)—I’m not sure if I can make it to the beach as much, or at all. What if winter surfing just doesn’t appeal to me? Does this mean I’m not a real surfer?

Dear reader!

Let me make you feel a little bit better. I haven’t surfed in two weeks. Not just because it’s gotten much cooler in SoCal—we’ve also had a lot of rain, and I like to adhere to the 72-hour rule. Plus, I’ve been trying to tick off every single medical check and procedure before year’s end (because: health insurance). Do I still feel like a surfer? Hell yeah.

Here’s my take.
How tolerant you are of winter surfing depends on where—or when—you began learning, how much free time you’ve got on your hands, and whether you can afford it.

Don’t dismiss it outright. Cold water surfing has so many benefits that we dedicated an entire episode to it called Cold Water Surfing Is Better Than Drugs. Check it out.

If you learned to surf in Waikiki or in the middle of a heatwave, a bit of a mindshift may be required to enjoy winter surfing on the mainland. It’s rich of me to say “just try it,” because it’s not that straightforward. Winter surfing costs more—booties, gloves, hood, a thicker wetsuit. Maybe a poncho too? Or a changing mat you never thought you’d need.

Winter surfing also takes longer. That thicker wetsuit takes extra time to put on and even more to squeeze out of—especially if you go for a front zip because you like feeling toasty. Personally, I can live with putting my booties on… just not taking them off. And don’t get me started on gloves. I’d say this whole ritual adds a good 20 minutes to my surf sesh. And drying the bloody stuff? That requires commitment and patience—not everyone is blessed that way.

I could wax lyrical about the advantages—fewer people in the lineup, the smug satisfaction of being a badass—but honestly, the biggest perk of winter surfing was enjoying a cozy pub, hot soup, and an invigorating pint afterwards. That was when I surfed in the UK.

So… no judgment. If you want to wait a few months before getting back in, I won’t hold it against you. And if anyone else does—just tell them to go to hell.

Author: The Wipeout Weekly team