Smaller waves make Oahu’s North Shore a bigger deal with families
Hit the beach before winter arrives to ensure calm waters for surfing, paddleboarding and snorkeling
It’s a summertime beach scene like so many around the world: Children race from the water across the sand while parents on beach towels try to relax, fishermen in chairs watch their lines for signs of life and surfers carry boards from the parking lot toward the undulating blue horizon.
In winter, the massive, glassy waves are legend on Oahu’s North Shore. The swells bring surf pros from around the world for premier competitions, including the Vans Triple Crown of Surfing — considered the most prestigious annual series. But the forbidding building-size walls of water that roll into North Shore spots, from Waimea Bay to the Banzai Pipeline (Ehukai Beach) to Sunset Beach, often leave anyone without major surf skills beach-bound.
That doesn’t mean fans of more leisurely water recreation should avoid the region, however. The big-wave season runs from late fall through early spring, but waves gentle enough for the everyday surfer, as well as protected areas for snorkeling and stand-up paddling, are available the rest of the year.
And beyond the famed Seven Mile Miracle — that stretch from Haleiwa Beach Park to Sunset Beach — there are even more safe opportunities to get wet, as well as the chance to explore the laid-back life of a region that’s still considered a little bit country in comparison with bustling Honolulu.
For families, this means rolling up to a plate lunch stand after a snorkeling session, learning about Polynesian culture while riding glowing paddleboards in a lagoon, and even catching a few waves without worrying about getting in over your head.
“Paddle, paddle, paddle!” shouts Nate, my surf instructor. His voice is in my ear as if he’s sitting right behind me on my surfboard, but as I churn the water and surge forward, his voice grows fainter, and I have to stand up on my own. To my right, my 9-year-old daughter, Veya, angles toward me on her own board, riding on her knees. Her eyes are big and a smile spreads across her face. When she gets closer,
that’s when the yelling starts.
“Party wave!” she exclaims. “Come on, Mom, let’s go!”
It doesn’t take long to get kids into surfing with lessons along the North Shore. At the point break in Turtle Bay, gentle waves roll through, giving everyone a turn as we ride past spectators perched on the cliffs at the edge of the resort. Surf instructors from on-site Hans Hedemann Surf School provide cheerleading support, important tips and encouragement for kids in the form of spectacular headstand rides and other seemingly effortless tricks.
These are the gentle waves of summer. In winter, this area, like much of the North Shore, has heavy surf breaks. Once you’ve seen them, it’s hard to imagine that the off-season can be so different. But now, as I turn my board to go back to the lineup, sea turtles are swimming ahead of the break, kids are perched on boards and chatting to each other in between sets, and there are long gentle rides when the waves come through.
Instructors are mellow with kids, and there’s no pushing to go beyond their comfort level. Veya’s instructor, Raye, entertained her with trick moves and tried to cajole her into getting off her knees and stand up on the board. But ultimately, surfing is all about having fun in the water, and it matters less how well you’ve done than it does that you’ve had a good time doing it.
The sun sparkles off the ocean’s flat surface, unbroken by waves, while snorkelers and divers alike walk the rocky trail to the water’s edge at Pupukea Beach Park, also known as Shark’s Cove. In winter’s surf season, this small bay between the famed big wave surf spots of Waimea Bay and the Banzai Pipeline is inaccessible for underwater pursuits during large ocean swells, but in summer and early fall, the calm conditions make it seem like swimming in an aquarium.
Contrary to its name, Shark’s Cove isn’t necessarily the home of large numbers of toothy fish. Viewed from above, the rocks appear in the form of a hammerhead shark, curved around the cove, as if protecting it and inviting the ocean to touch the shore. The rocks here channel the ocean into tide pools, and we pass families with young children wading in the shallow water on our way to the spot where we pull on our mask and fins.
It’s almost as warm as a bath, and the moment we swim past the lava boulders, the cooler current feels refreshing as it washes over me. Gone are the snorkelers and divers and beachgoers. I feel almost alone with the fish and turtles.
Aquatic life is abundant in this bay, part of the PupukeaWaimea Marine Life Conservation District. The ocean floor is filled with large, smooth boulders and coral heads forming small caves and ledges for animals to hide, and I spy green turtles leisurely swimming in and out of caves, while we float through schools of yellow tang and needlefish. Veya excitedly points at every fish and takes her snorkel out of her mouth to shout its name if she knows it, then quickly swims ahead to see more.
Here, there’s a humuhumunukunukuapuaa (the Hawaiian state fish). There, there’s a parrotfish. We swim around the curve of the bay to find more and only rarely encounter other humans. They’ve all dissipated beyond the tide pools and the crowds on the beach. I imagine how the reef is affected during the winter waves, how fish and turtles are buffeted by the surge and perhaps seek shelter in the caves. But now, the tranquil ocean encourages everyone to come out in the open, including the snorkelers.
Without leaving the North Shore, we spend the afternoon visiting the Polynesian islands of Aotearoa (New Zealand), Fiji, Hawaii, Samoa, Tahiti and Tonga by virtue of walking through the villages of the Polynesian Cultural Center. The 42-acre cultural park in Laie gives guests the opportunity to immerse themselves in the cultures from these regions through hands-on demonstrations, spectacular performances, and traditional dancing and cuisine.
But after the dinnertime luau, my family ditches the crowds that are headed to the evening show. We walk in the opposite direction in the dark, back into the park, and stop at the edge of the lagoon where a handful of glowing paddle boards and a couple of kayaks are waiting.
With the help of a guide, we float out onto the torch-lined lagoon, where fish swim below our mood-lit boards. Looking at the wide-eyed moai on the spit of land designated as Rapa Nui seems different here in the evening, when the absence of visitors allows me to pretend, even temporarily, that I’m there. It’s a far different feeling without the daytime crush of visitors in a place that’s bent on education but can sometimes feel akin to a Polynesian Disneyland.
Along the lagoon’s route, we pass the villages and are entertained by folkloric tales of the island nations. The waterway isn’t connected to the ocean, so any tidal surge won’t affect the serene scene or our balance on the boards, and passing underneath the waterfalls at the end of the voyage is optional for those who want to keep dry.
But leave dry hair for the winter, when you can watch surf contests from shore. In the off-season, everyone’s in the water.