- Sep 13, 2002
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Weirdly, I actually know TWO guys that are Great Lakes freshwater surfers!
By Robert McMillan
DULUTH, Minn.—With local residents stocking up on emergency supplies and the National Weather Service warning of blizzardy gale-force winds last Thursday, Randy Carlson found himself looking for the perfect wave.
Duluth is perhaps the most unexpected big-wave surf spot in the U.S.—especially during Minnesota’s punishing winters. Mr. Carlson is a member of a growing tribe of thrill seekers who scan the local weather and wax up their boards when they hear that most enticing of forecasts: a big arctic storm blowing down from Canada.
It takes a special kind of wind to kick up the surf in Duluth, a port city on the shores of Lake Superior. It happens a few dozen times a year, mainly from September to April, surfers said. Epic snowstorms like the one last week bring glee to the unusual breed known as Midwestern surfers.
On Wednesday, the day before the big blizzard, Jerome Fischer was giddy with anticipation of the next day’s swells. The owner of Duluth’s first and only surf shop didn’t expect much business the following day—he said customers knew he would be out surfing. “If there’s good surf, shop’s closed,” he said.
Located just down the road from a brewery and a fireplace store, Mr. Fischer’s shop, named The Back Alley, is the cultural center of Duluth’s surf scene. Don’t expect to hear The Beach Boys. The Duluth-based jam band New Salty Dog is much more likely to be playing in the background.
That’s because Duluth surfing has picked up some slightly different vibrations. Instead of wood-paneled station wagons with surfboards on top, Duluthians have four-wheel-drive SUVs. Instead of huarache sandals, they wear neoprene boots to avoid frostbite. Instead of sunburns, they sport ice beards.
But it’s big wave surfing nonetheless.
The largest recorded wave on the Great Lakes was a 28.8-foot monster picked up in 2017 by a measurement buoy on Lake Superior about 250 miles east of Duluth, near Marquette, Mich., according to John Downing, director of the Minnesota branch of Sea Grant, a government-funded water science organization.
According to water wave physics, Mr. Downing said, Duluth is “one of the places that has the highest potential for major waves” on the Great Lakes, because it sits at the end of a 300-mile-long deep stretch of Lake Superior that receives mighty blasts of cold arctic air. These conditions are ideal for whipping up waves that rise as they hit the coastal shore.
Ahead of Mr. Carlson’s blizzardy surf day, the National Weather Service was calling for waves as big as 16 feet, but he had a few concerns. The risk of getting his SUV stuck in a snowdrift, well, that was a given. And with the air temperature at 5 degrees, he wondered if he’d be slowed down by floating snow or ice chunks in the water, or even possibly slipping and dinging his surfboard on the icy rocks of the beach. But most important, he worried where the best break was going to be that day.
He wasn’t the only Duluthian looking to hang ten on Thursday. Or technically—because they wear booties—hang two. After a 16-minute call with another surfer to discuss the best location, the two decided to meet up with another pair of surfers at a little-known break about 25 miles northeast of the city. “These guys,” he said, “Their brains are spinning. It’s hard to get consensus.”
After a brief hike through a snowy forest, the four surfers spent an hour in some rough water but caught only a few good waves. The winds and current and relentless, smashing waves made it difficult to get into position.
The surfers then decided to dust the snow off their windshields and drive to a more-popular break, near an old fish hatchery with a basement converted into a surf shack, at the mouth of the Lester River. There, Mr. Carlson put in another two-hour set on his stand-up paddleboard, this time, steering clear of floating snow and ice and scoring ride after ride on waves that got as big as 8 feet during the day, the surfers estimated. When he emerged from the water, he had a full-on ivory white ice beard and his black wetsuit was encased in ice. “I look like a Marvel cartoon character,” he said, not inaccurately.
After de-icing his surfboard leash with some warm water, placing a plastic sheet on his seat and a towel to protect his floorboard, Mr. Carlson drove—still wearing his wetsuit and neoprene gloves—to his home and the car wash-style three-nozzled shower he uses to de-ice himself.
Mr. Carlson, who teaches surfing and other outdoor sports at the University of Minnesota, Duluth, proclaimed the day a success but pointed out blizzard surfing isn’t for everyone. “A day like this would absolutely horrify my students,” he said.
Overall growth in the sport and advances in wetsuit technology have helped surfing in the frigid waters—official temperatures were around 33 degrees in recent days—take off in the past decade. “I always say, ‘what’s the water temperature? It’s liquid ice, dude,’ ” Mr. Isaacson said.
Surfers can be found in Grand Haven, Mich., Marquette, and Sheboygan, Wis. “Sheboygan is the Malibu of the Midwest,” Mr. Isaacson said.
Duluth has yet to claim its own surf superlative. The city, which locals sometimes refer to as the San Francisco of the North, has no plans to promote itself as a surfing mecca, said Duluth Mayor Emily Larson.
That’s just fine with some of Duluth’s hard-core surfers, who worry at times their surf spots might “blow up” and become crowded with out-of-towners.
“We’ll see how it goes next February,” Ms. Larson said, who added she planned to try lake surfing at some point. “Surfing Lake Superior in a blizzard is really an acquired taste. So I think that’s in our favor.”
Surf’s Up…in Duluth…in February—‘It’s Liquid Ice, Dude’
Minnesota port on Lake Superior has big waves, especially in a mammoth arctic storm
By Robert McMillan
DULUTH, Minn.—With local residents stocking up on emergency supplies and the National Weather Service warning of blizzardy gale-force winds last Thursday, Randy Carlson found himself looking for the perfect wave.
Duluth is perhaps the most unexpected big-wave surf spot in the U.S.—especially during Minnesota’s punishing winters. Mr. Carlson is a member of a growing tribe of thrill seekers who scan the local weather and wax up their boards when they hear that most enticing of forecasts: a big arctic storm blowing down from Canada.
It takes a special kind of wind to kick up the surf in Duluth, a port city on the shores of Lake Superior. It happens a few dozen times a year, mainly from September to April, surfers said. Epic snowstorms like the one last week bring glee to the unusual breed known as Midwestern surfers.
On Wednesday, the day before the big blizzard, Jerome Fischer was giddy with anticipation of the next day’s swells. The owner of Duluth’s first and only surf shop didn’t expect much business the following day—he said customers knew he would be out surfing. “If there’s good surf, shop’s closed,” he said.
Located just down the road from a brewery and a fireplace store, Mr. Fischer’s shop, named The Back Alley, is the cultural center of Duluth’s surf scene. Don’t expect to hear The Beach Boys. The Duluth-based jam band New Salty Dog is much more likely to be playing in the background.
That’s because Duluth surfing has picked up some slightly different vibrations. Instead of wood-paneled station wagons with surfboards on top, Duluthians have four-wheel-drive SUVs. Instead of huarache sandals, they wear neoprene boots to avoid frostbite. Instead of sunburns, they sport ice beards.
But it’s big wave surfing nonetheless.
The largest recorded wave on the Great Lakes was a 28.8-foot monster picked up in 2017 by a measurement buoy on Lake Superior about 250 miles east of Duluth, near Marquette, Mich., according to John Downing, director of the Minnesota branch of Sea Grant, a government-funded water science organization.
According to water wave physics, Mr. Downing said, Duluth is “one of the places that has the highest potential for major waves” on the Great Lakes, because it sits at the end of a 300-mile-long deep stretch of Lake Superior that receives mighty blasts of cold arctic air. These conditions are ideal for whipping up waves that rise as they hit the coastal shore.
Ahead of Mr. Carlson’s blizzardy surf day, the National Weather Service was calling for waves as big as 16 feet, but he had a few concerns. The risk of getting his SUV stuck in a snowdrift, well, that was a given. And with the air temperature at 5 degrees, he wondered if he’d be slowed down by floating snow or ice chunks in the water, or even possibly slipping and dinging his surfboard on the icy rocks of the beach. But most important, he worried where the best break was going to be that day.
He wasn’t the only Duluthian looking to hang ten on Thursday. Or technically—because they wear booties—hang two. After a 16-minute call with another surfer to discuss the best location, the two decided to meet up with another pair of surfers at a little-known break about 25 miles northeast of the city. “These guys,” he said, “Their brains are spinning. It’s hard to get consensus.”
After a brief hike through a snowy forest, the four surfers spent an hour in some rough water but caught only a few good waves. The winds and current and relentless, smashing waves made it difficult to get into position.
The surfers then decided to dust the snow off their windshields and drive to a more-popular break, near an old fish hatchery with a basement converted into a surf shack, at the mouth of the Lester River. There, Mr. Carlson put in another two-hour set on his stand-up paddleboard, this time, steering clear of floating snow and ice and scoring ride after ride on waves that got as big as 8 feet during the day, the surfers estimated. When he emerged from the water, he had a full-on ivory white ice beard and his black wetsuit was encased in ice. “I look like a Marvel cartoon character,” he said, not inaccurately.
After de-icing his surfboard leash with some warm water, placing a plastic sheet on his seat and a towel to protect his floorboard, Mr. Carlson drove—still wearing his wetsuit and neoprene gloves—to his home and the car wash-style three-nozzled shower he uses to de-ice himself.
Mr. Carlson, who teaches surfing and other outdoor sports at the University of Minnesota, Duluth, proclaimed the day a success but pointed out blizzard surfing isn’t for everyone. “A day like this would absolutely horrify my students,” he said.
Overall growth in the sport and advances in wetsuit technology have helped surfing in the frigid waters—official temperatures were around 33 degrees in recent days—take off in the past decade. “I always say, ‘what’s the water temperature? It’s liquid ice, dude,’ ” Mr. Isaacson said.
Surfers can be found in Grand Haven, Mich., Marquette, and Sheboygan, Wis. “Sheboygan is the Malibu of the Midwest,” Mr. Isaacson said.
Duluth has yet to claim its own surf superlative. The city, which locals sometimes refer to as the San Francisco of the North, has no plans to promote itself as a surfing mecca, said Duluth Mayor Emily Larson.
That’s just fine with some of Duluth’s hard-core surfers, who worry at times their surf spots might “blow up” and become crowded with out-of-towners.
“We’ll see how it goes next February,” Ms. Larson said, who added she planned to try lake surfing at some point. “Surfing Lake Superior in a blizzard is really an acquired taste. So I think that’s in our favor.”
