On the ocean as muse

There’s this thing that happens when I paddle out into the ocean and sit there. It’s not necessarily the wave; it’s sitting in the ocean. Between the waves, there’s this long period that’s very meditative. If you’re there by yourself, your brain has this buzz from catching a couple of good waves, and you’re looking up at the seagulls and the seals sitting there.

The most creative moments we have are when we’re doing nothing, but in a really good place and in a really fantastic positive mindset. For me, the chemistry was just right sitting in the ocean. Ideas for books, things I want to write about, poetry — all of it was popping into my head while I was surfing. I just had to try to hang on to it long enough to get it ashore.

On surfing and activism

Surfing has always carried a bit of counterculture with it. There’s a kind of coolness to it, but it’s not about style as much as a way of seeing the world. There’s also an understanding that the ocean is powerful and potentially dangerous. You have to respect that. Surfers tend to be aware of what’s happening in the ocean. You don’t want to see it change. The water used to be colder. You notice things like that. You see different species that didn’t used to be here. I remember once helping push a mola mola, a giant sunfish, back out to sea. You don’t expect to see something like that here.

After 9/11, when George Bush came to Nova Scotia, I organized a Surfers for Peace paddle-out at Lawrencetown Beach. The next day, I stood along the motorcade route with a surfboard that read “Surfers for Peace” and held it up as his limousine passed. The image was picked up by wire services and circulated around the world. I’m not going to change the world, but I had my moment