The surfers of Cold Hawaii may have struggled to gain a footing in the community, but the beach certainly doesn’t suffer from overpopulated waters. “My dad says it reminds him of what California was like back in the 60s and 70s,” said Steinfath. “It still feels untamed.”
Gangs formed by locals in coveted surf spots around the globe—the Black Shorts, the Bra Boys, the Longos—have become notorious for keeping non-natives out. Because Cold Hawaii’s waves are not considered as desirable as South Africa’s Jeffrey’s Bay, or Hawaii’s Pipeline, and because the surf scene is still in its infancy, the town’s waves and beaches are still extremely civil.
“Short boarders, kayakers, windsurfers—everyone fits together in the line-up,” said Steinfath, casting his arm at the ocean, which was indeed peppered with surfers of all types. While many surf communities suffer from major segregation and conflict, Cold Hawaii has a very inclusive community. A large yellow and black poster hangs on the wall outside the entrance to the surf club. In sharp infographics and bold lettering is Cold Hawaii’s manifesto. “Kook or Gentleman?” the headline reads, “If you complain, disrespect, take, it will be worse,” reads the next line. Followed by: “If you communicate, respect, share, it will be better.” And then a few guidelines on basic etiquette. Trust Denmark to make a notoriously exclusive sport inclusive and then create rules, which people actually abide by.
On my afternoon in Klitmøller, I took a hike through the national park to see the view of the ocean from a dune. Along the winding tawny path, I passed hikers sharing lunch at a picnic table and then a lone van with surfboards strapped to the roof. Parked in a grassy enclave with washing strung out to dry, it was clear the owners had made a temporary home there. Out of the van climbed a young couple, golden and long-limbed, with wavy, sun-kissed hair. With flasks of coffee in their hands, they slid into their wetsuits, grabbed their surfboards and made their way to the beach. It was like a scene from a California town in a time when I wasn’t alive. And it was Denmark. It was like seeing snow fall in the Maldives, or watching someone ski down a mountain in Thailand. It felt totally wrong. And yet, somehow, just right.
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