Collier and Downing, legendary surfers and polar-opposite personalities, have died

Surfers tend to be spiritual folks. That’s why surfers worldwide thought it more than a coincidence that two of their greats died within hours of each other this month, two very different men of two very different lifestyles.

One was the Californian Vince (Vincent James) Collier, who died March 4 of cardiac arrest at 57 in Oaxaca, Mexico, after riding waves at El Mojon beach. He knew Mexican surf well. He often rode “the Mexican Pipeline,” the globally respected and oft-feared “tubes” off Puerto Escondido. He was known as the “Godfather of Santa Cruz” — his hometown and surfing base. He was also one of the first to “charge” the extreme big waves at Mavericks, a surfing location outside Pillar Point Harbor in northern California.

The other surf legend had virtually the opposite image and reputation. He was the Hawaiian George Downing, a classic big-wave surfer and designer of “the Rocket” bigwave board. He died March 5 at his home in east Oahu at 87, according to his family. Born in Honolulu and nicknamed “the teacher” or “the guru,” he was old-school and considered the waves he rode as a power greater than himself. He dedicated his life to surfing, designing boards, studying techniques and becoming a historian of the sport.

As for Collier, friends admitted he could have a violent temper. He liked the wannabes to keep out of his way when a big wave talked to him from a hundred yards out. Strangers occasionally felt the front edge of his board, an unsubtle hint to clear off.

He was often described as “the hit man” or “the enforcer” for his aggression on the waves. It helped that he was “built like a pit bull,” as one colleague said. He could be a menace in the surf and out, known for his self-confessed fondness for drugs, his biker backup and his usually-accurate, even when drunk, punches.

“His style was aggressive and soft at the same time, powerful and volatile,” according to surf photographer Chris Klopf, a longtime friend. “It was best to keep out of his way in the water or on land unless you were his friend. But he was always there for his friends, considered a big brother by many of them.”

Those Santa Cruz friends included top surfers Darryl “Flea” Virostko, the late Shawn “Barney” Barron and Jason “Ratboy” Collins.

“He was larger than life,” Collins told the San Jose Mercury News, not only because Collier weighed in at 220 pounds. “If you ran into him, you probably wouldn’t forget that. If you had a bad run-in with him, you definitely wouldn’t forget that.”

Virostko posted on Instagram: “Gunna miss my biggest influence of my life besides mom and dad. VC paved the way for the Santa Cruz boys, leading the charge to Mavericks in the late 80s and early 90s. The huge heart he had everyday for all of us kids on the west side was rad. The king had our back in the water.”

At Mavericks, waves can routinely crest at over 25 feet and top out at over 60 feet because of a break caused by an unusually-shaped underwater rock formation. Mr. Collier rode those waves regularly, including the left-handers that have been described as “a short-lived explosion of hell and spitfire.” Many bigwave surfers have died there, including the Hawaiian Sion Milosky in 2011 and the Singapore-born Mark Foo, who was brought up in Hawaii and died at Mavericks in 1994.

Another fellow surfer and Collier friend, Steve Nichols, wrote in an email to surf buddies: “Vince placed first in a major southern California surf contest, burning them all. After his acceptance speech they took his title away — because he dissed the sponsorship, in the inimitable VC style. [In the water] every time one of those guys took off, he dropped in on them the whole session. Over and Over again . . . paddling out every time yelling at them, ‘I’m still beating you’” before adding an emphatic expletive.

Collier’s reputation was enhanced when he starred in the 2010 surf documentary “The Westsiders,” written and directed by Josh Pomer, which showed that Collier’s surf crew was more like a gang, dudes from broken homes, on drugs, street fighters for whom surfing became their release, their religion.

The Hawaiian Downing’s reputation could not have been more different. He was a protege of his mentor Duke Kahanamoku, the man who popularized the ancient Hawaiian practice of surfing and helped turn it into a global sport. Like the Duke, Downing was a typical Hawaiian on and off the board, embodying the spirit of aloha — love, affection, peace, compassion and mercy.