An Ode to Muizenberg – a journey through the shore break of South African surfing’s capital ‘The ‘Berg’

Muizenberg is where most surfers in Cape Town started surfing, and continues to be the epicentre of the sport in the city, even if the waves are pap and surfers maybe don’t smoke as much dagga as they used to.

By Hugh Upsher

Muizenberg is the undisputed spiritual home of Cape Town surfing. Not just because of the break, not because of the calibre of surfers it attracts or its long history that dates back to the 1800s, but from the sheer volume of surfboards in the water.

When Billabong famously made the claim ‘Only a surfer knows the feeling’, it was Muizenberg that made the claim a very poorly kept secret. When Capetonians are asked, “do you surf?”, Muizenberg is the reason why so many non-surfers will reply “no, but I tried it once.”

As a kid growing up in Joburg, I was the tween sporting a ‘Bong t-shirt with the surf break illustration printed big on the back. It was only when I turned 12 and my family relocated to Cape Town that I could finally find out what they meant. I was lucky enough to convince my dad to invest in my non-existent surfing career with a 6-foot board that I discovered at the Tokai Cash Crusaders.

Technically it was less than six feet as about 12cm of the nose had been snapped off and haphazardly fiberglassed over. Thankfully, at Muizenberg, this dinged up relic was not out of place. It never matters what car you drive in with or how much cutting edge technology is built into your wetsuit, status here comes from one thing only, and that’s how you treat the waves.

Paddling out at Muizenberg won’t necessarily give you the traumatising near-death experience of being slammed into a sandbank by a ruthless shore break or a fat spitting tube ride, but it will wear you down. It’s more of a marathon than a sprint when it comes to reaching the hallowed waters referred to simply as ‘out the back’.

Teaching yourself how to duck dive through trial and error alone will be a character-building experience, especially as a skinny kid trying to embrace the crisp 15°C Cape Town water. There’s also the arcade game-like challenge of dodging the two or three surfers ploughing their way down each and every foamy break.

When I turned 12 I was lucky enough to convince my dad to invest in my non-existent surfing career with a 6-foot board that I discovered at the Tokai Cash Crusaders.

On a good day, you’ll see longboards, shortboards, bodyboards, surf skis, foilboarders, stand up paddleboards, and even a kneeboarder if you’re lucky. All gliding along in relative harmony. On top of that, you’ll have the occasional seal, a Sunday baptism session and the ever-present Gary’s Surf School brigade in their iconic blue and yellow wetsuits.

I still have Gary’s mantra of “PADDLE! PADDLE! STAND UP!” etched in my brain because he would yell it in my direction any time I drifted within 50 metres of his bobbing head. I never signed up for these lessons but I got them anyway. Thank you, Gary, I owe you one.

It takes some graft, but when you get out to the back, you’re able to look around and get a few glances of respect simply for arriving. I would always purposefully float over the first few swells partly for my spaghetti arms to recover, and partly just to take it all in. This is a sacred place, you can just feel it when you are out there.

Paddling out at Muizenberg won’t necessarily give you the traumatising near-death experience of being slammed into a sandbank by a ruthless shore break or a fat spitting tube ride, but it will wear you down.

No matter what time of year, no matter what conditions, there will always be at least one person bobbing around in the back hoping that their ‘perfect’ wave will finally arrive. The conditions could be 1 foot, choppy and close to freezing and you’ll still see at least one loon paddling out to get surf stoked.

This is also the spot where the Guinness World Record for most people riding a single wave was repeatedly attempted. The current record was set in 2009 with 110 surfers, which sounds impressive unless you’ve been out there on a Saturday morning in December. Needless to say, the hardest part about surfing at Muizenberg is finding your wave, or your share of the wave.

This process is further complicated if your own father would rather bulldoze over you with a longboard than break his own line. When all this is considered, once you do feel that downward pull and you pop up to see Muizenberg’s forgiving gradient ahead of you, you’re in bliss. A wave so gentle and reliable that you can ride it all the way onto the shore.

It’s hard to imagine that it was only one generation back that surfing was an activity reserved only for “the hippies and dagga smokers”, to quote my dad. As a surfer himself, he recalled the days when Peter Wright’s Corner Surf Shop was the only surf shop. A little hole in the wall near the railway line that only sold 3 things: surfboards, wetsuits and wax.

No matter what time of year, no matter what conditions, there will always be at least one person bobbing around in the back hoping that their ‘perfect’ wave will finally arrive.

Now, fifty years later you’ll see groms, grandparents and everyone in between out in the water together. You’ll also see first-time swimmers screaming in equal parts joy and terror.

You’ll see skaters and BMXers attempting to tear it up on the curved sandy pavements and chunked out spots around the pavilion. You’ll see luxury SUV’s parked all in a row outside an overly polished Bootleggers and people of shapes and sizes, colours and creeds enjoying the undeniable spirit of ‘The Berg’.

Muizenberg is that rare spot where class and cultures collide in order to appreciate something that is much bigger than all of us. Only once you’ve paddled out into the waves at Muizenberg will you know that feeling is real and not some made-up marketing line.