When I was young, growing up in a small California suburb, I took tennis lessons over the summer. At some point I must have expressed interest in the sport to my parents, and as I recall they sent me for private lessons at the nearby tennis courts in the local park. I have fond memories of that summer, as the instructor was good, I learned a great deal, and the classes were fun. In fact those lessons launched a fairly successful youth tennis career for me. That is, at least until I was 12 years old, at which time everyone began passing me by in ability, and in frustration I quit the sport altogether (a decision in hindsight I do not regret, particularly given the tennis "attire" they made us wear at the time).

Additionally, as a youth I also attended soccer camp every year. Two weeks of non-stop instruction, drills, and games, all in a magnificent setting up in the mountains. I looked forward to those weeks, away from my parents, being with my peers. A great place where kids could take part in a variety of activities, all the while learning to excel in a specific sport.

The truth is, these were wonderful experiences for me growing up, and I believe I am a better person for having participated in them. So it is with marked trepidation that I say what I am about to say with regards to surf schools and surf camps: they are wrong. As in not right. Unethical. Exploitative. Infringing. Encroaching. Violating. Ugly blemishes on the face of an otherwise virtuous pursuit.

Now before I receive a rash of nasty e-mails from members of the Paskowitz patriarchy, let me attempt to explain. The popularity of surf schools, i.e. lessons for surfing, has been growing rapidly over the last few years. A quick browse on the Internet reveals there are now no fewer than 150 surf schools worldwide, and these are just the ones that are advertising. From Cornwall, UK, to Bahia, Brazil, to Queensland, Australia, to Disney's Typhoon Lagoon in Florida (believe it), surf schools are emerging at nearly any locale where one can find breaking waves to ride. California alone has over 25 such schools, five of them located here in Northern California. "Surfing has never been so easy!" reads one Web site. "Immerse yourself in the surf lifestyle!" shouts another. "The surf adventure of a lifetime starts here." Remarkably, most of these camps have developed in the last ten years. Needless to say, this alarms me.

Some elementary math underscores the seriousness of the situation. I took a poll of local schools and approximate that an average of 30 students (a conservative estimate) are taught per week during the summer high season, May through September, and maybe 10 per week October through April. Thus, during an average year, some 900 new students are introduced to the sport of surfing, per school. I also calculate that roughly a third of the students will continue to pursue the sport full-time, while the remaining two-thirds will either never surf again or surf so infrequently as to not make any noticeable impact on surfing lineups. So 300 of those students will emerge as a regular presence in the water. We are, therefore, in Northern California alone, introducing 1,500 new surfers into the already crowded lineups. 7,500 in California. 45,000 worldwide. Per year. Gulp.

There are, of course, other factors that contribute to modern crowding in the lineup. Advances in communication for one have greatly increased the overall exposure of surfing to the general population, and also provide critical real-time information to would-be participants. With the advent of mobile phones and the Internet, rarely do good local conditions go undiscovered. General population growth in coastal regions, Northern California being a prime example, has also contributed to overcrowding. Finally, huge increases in disposable income, particularly in regions such as the Bay Area, have allowed more people to pursue recreational endeavors than ever before. Still, I find it difficult to discount the fact that 45,000 new surfers are potentially entering the lineup every year. This is, of course, in addition to those who take up the sport on their own.

Allow me also to clarify something. As a surfer, I am inherently selfish. I want more waves, not less. I want fewer crowds, not more. This I cannot help. The addictive nature of the sport drives me to want, crave—hoard even—as many waves as I am able to digest. More is better. Further (this in my own self-serving mindset), I had to learn the sport the hard way, so why shouldn't everyone else? I can go on. The difficult learning curve is part of what makes surfing so unique, what prevents any ordinary person from taking up the pursuit—the innate Darwinian nature of the sport. Only the strongest survive, and I (again, in my own mind) am one of the strongest. I am special. I take this wave that comes to me because I have put in the time, the dedication, the endless patience, without the coddling and pampering that comes with a human harness, a chef preparing my California "surf-cuisine," and a support group of 20. "Hello everyone, my name is Dane and I fell on my first three waves." "Hi Dane!" And so on . . .

But surely I pontificate. Embellish even, for effect. In fact, I spoke with a good surfing friend of mine who first learned to surf at one of these "new-school" surf schools. He credits his current love affair with the ocean and waves to his one-week experience at a camp in Santa Cruz, and has been a dedicated surfer in the three years since. This is not, mind you, a work-a-holic-weekend-warrior-cowabunga-let's-go-surfing-because-it's-cool kind of guy. He is a legitimate, positive addition to the tribe. When I asked him what he enjoyed most from his weeklong experience, he replied simply, "the total immersion into surfing, and the camaraderie I felt with others." Boy, as if that response didn't make me feel shallow and crass.

All selfish motives aside, here is how I honestly feel: surf schools and camps are exploitative. They take a beautiful, natural, finite resource and take advantage of it for financial gain. Sure, some may claim to want to share "the stoke" they experience in surfing with others. Fair enough: go out and teach a friend. But collectively, what they are actually doing is diminishing the overall stoke for a much larger group of water-enthusiasts by further commercializing an already-threatened, meaningful pursuit. This is not tennis or soccer where there are ample athletic courts and fields, and if not, you can simply build more to accommodate demand. A surf spot is an extremely delicate resource, a fluke of geographical evolution encompassing a perfect convergence of countless natural elements to create something extraordinary and unique.

Now I respect everyone's right to make a living. I also respect people's right to create and run a commercial business venture. But I firmly believe that any commercial pursuit should not come at the expense of a unique, natural resource. You can slice it however you like, promote it, advertise it, dress it up, but the bottom line is that surf schools and surf camps exploit natural surfing environs in the same way that packaged tourism exploits travel destinations.

Surf camps, a la G-Land and Tavarua, as well as packaged "surf tours," take this concept one step further. They take a remote, pristine resource—namely a quality, uncrowded surf spot—claim it as their own, then package, market, and sell it. This in my mind is exploitation at its most extreme. To their credit, destinations such as Tavarua and a handful of others have done a commendable job in terms of protecting the local environment. One could easily make the argument that, minus the camps, these areas would stand to fair much worse than if left to their own devices. Quite possibly true. Nevertheless, this sort of self-justification does not take away the basic premise that prostitution of a natural resource is inherently wrong.

I understand the draw, believe me—combining one's passion with one's career. Making money doing something you love, what could be more fulfilling? Having traveled a great deal to surf remote, uncrowded waves, I have more than once contemplated this very concept. The problem inevitably for me, however, is I can never get past the notion that by bringing people to a secluded surfing area for my own commercial gain, I would be profiting directly from the degradation of the surf spot itself. Right or wrong, this is something I do not want to be responsible for.

Finally, lest I come across as oh-so-high-and-mighty, I should add that I am, in fact, a full-blown hypocrite. I am corrupt. I have patronized some of the very camps I am so quick to deride. Tavarua. The Mentawais. Guilty pleasures, to be sure. I say this with more than just a hint of guilt. I suppose then this means the selfish pursuit of wave-riding overrides my own sense of morality.

Perhaps I am simply being overly idealistic, unrealistic even, in my beliefs. I realize we live in a commercial world, a free-market society. The exploitation of resources is nothing new in the world of capitalism. But in the midst of our hyper-commercialized society, I seek solace in the un-commercialized. Indeed, one of the reasons I surf is to spend time away from the confines of our business-centric culture. I prefer then, thank you, to maintain my surfing as a purely recreational, yes even soulful pursuit, as trite as that may sound. For when it's all said and done, is the selling of a wave, this precious gift delivered to us by nature, really worth it?

Get some waves. - DL

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