40 Years Ago This Summer...July 1971.
The FIRST American Surfers went up and into Nova Scotia, nothing has been the same since.

We first saw it in the Public Library. The year was 1968. Jeff Crawford had been working at Old Orchard Beach in Maine each Summer, and had overheard a
French Canadian Lobsterman speak of perfect waves in Nova Scotia. He told Bruz Bowden and myself about it. But we were 17 years old, and had more important things on our minds back then. Girls and Surfing. Even though this was surf related, none of us were thinking about leaving New England to go search for surf.

For me personally, I was trying to have as much fun as possible. I had pre-enlisted in the Marines and well, in 1968 the war was raging in Southeast Asia. Unless something drastic happened, I was more than likely going to be shipped off to Vietnam. I wanted to stay here in New England and have my last bit of freedom before God knows what would happen.

But there we were in the Library. And Jeff found that photo. It was an old black and white Geography book and in the photo, there was a big bluff on the ocean, and there at the bottom of the bluff were waves. And not just any kind of waves. These were perfect, machine like waves. And with little or no imagination, you could just tell, that these waves were peeling for hundreds of yards. We all stood there dumbfounded. It looked like (dare I say?) The Hollister Ranch.

Perfect waves in Nova Scotia. We looked at the map and saw how close it was.

"Holy crap look how close this is to where we are!" Someone blurted out. We pushed and shoved to get a better look. "Oh my God...look at that!" I realized right then and there what we had stumbled upon. Or rather, what Jeff had gathered from his friend at Old Orchard Beach Maine. But I felt sick to my stomach. I was going in the Marines when we got out of High School. "OK you guys have to wait until I get back. Please don't leave without me!" I pleaded. They both agreed to wait for me.

Now we fast forward to 1971. I had served my time in the Marine Corps. 1968 to 1971. I survived the War, and all I wanted to do was go surfing. And I can't tell you how many times surfing saved me over there. When I thought my world was collapsing around me, I would think "If I can get through this, I'll be able to go surfing again." It's funny now, to think that my Mantra was true even back then.
"Surfing Heals All Wounds..." Because it did, and still does.



So I grew my hair long the day I got out. And by the Summer of '71 my hair was as long as everyone else. I was free. I was a surfer, and we were about to head off on an adventure unlike any of us had ever taken before.

Jeff and Bruzzie had planned everything out. We had two contacts in Halifax. We knew of three surfers in all of Nova Scotia. Three. Joe Murphy , Joe Reardon, and Jim Leadbetter. Others would come in the years that followed, but that Summer there were only three. The year after our first trip Paul Camaleri from Australia moved to NS and has been there ever since.

Our vehicle was Jeff's van. An old Ford Van with an 8-track player. We were going up with three homemade boards, that the boys had made while I was in Nam. We had summer wetsuits only. NO leashes. Plenty of canned food, and peanut butter and jelly. We were going to camp on the ocean and find surf.

We had a map, and directions, and one phone number. We were good to go.

But like anything else in life, nothing goes as planned. We spent the first night in Halifax. The city. Not exactly what we had planned. We couldn't find Joe Murphy. Keep in mind. We had NO cellphones. NO Internet. NO Facebook. These were the Dark Ages of modern technology. The next morning we found Joe, and he gave us directions into Lawrencetown.

Once we came up and onto Lawrencetown beach we thought we had found it.
Except we were shrouded in a deep fog. We could hear surf, but we just couldn't
see it . Once the fog burned off, we knew we had found it.

Because right there in front of us, was a perfect point break. Lawrence town. point.

We camped on the beach and surfed both the beach break, and the point. We thought we had found what we had come looking for. None of us had ever surfed a point break like this. I mean, you could actually do 6 to 8 cutbacks on a wave. We were not used to that. I remember how completely stoked out of our minds we were. I'm sure we must of said a hundred times..."Can you believe this?"

Well it turned out, that we were only surfing the warm up spot. We had been tipped off that the REAL break was north of where we were staying. A place called the Range. "Why do they call it the Range?" "Because the Canadian Air force uses it as a bombing range. " I was thinking to myself, I survived the war, and now I'm going to be surfing a break where F-4 Phantoms were going be bombing?

But being 20 years old and full of adventure, we all just went with the flow.

We found the Range and the WARNING Signs, and well, we threw caution to the wind and went into the unknown. "Don't worry guys, if we see any unexploded ordinance just get it to me, and I'll set it off..." I said. We all laughed (sort of). We
did find some bombs that had not exploded and it was a bit unnerving, but not a deterrent for us. It was all part of the adventure.

And once we saw the waves at the Range we would of risked almost anything.

We all grew up staring at photos of the RANCH in California. Those dreamy,
glassy 5' perfect waves were always something we would fantasize about and
now we found ourselves staring at waves that would rival the Ranch. These waves made Lawrencetown look like a beach break. The waves at the Range would line up and just peel for 300 to 500 yards. All rights...all machine like. All ours...

(Above) That's me in the slot at the Range July 1971.

Back in those days, my backhand was not as good as my forehand. It was always a treat for me to be able to surf rights, as opposed to surfing lefts. And we had found the land of Rights that First Summer. The years that followed we had discovered more breaks, and yes there were plenty of lefts too. But that first year? That virgin trip? It was all rights. Besides, all three of us were regular foots.

We were happy to surf these right handers.



(Above) That's Bruz at the Range going by the large boulder.

The wave at the Range that summer will forever be etched in my mind. Looking
at the footage we shot does not do it justice. We were all hack photographers back then. And believe it or not, we did not bring a still camera. It was all Super 8 mm movie film. I know I know...but keep in mind, we were young surfers surfing perfect waves for the first time. I'm stoked that we have the footage we have.



(Above) Jeff Crawford at the Range. It was so warm that trip as well.

I know some of you will look at the video clip and snicker and sneer and make fun of it. That's cool. Except look at the date. It was forty years ago. Most of you were not yet born. Some of you have been to Nova Scotia. Imagine being the FIRST Americans to surf there? Imagine having the OLDEST KNOWN Footage of Nova Scotia. This is part of our history. Our culture.

Heading North into the vast unknown and finding waves like that was something
out of the SURFER archives. Something that The SURFERS JOURNAL would run. And our own ESM. In fact. I remember Dick "Mez" Meseroll coming to my apartment back in the early 80's wanting to see the footage of Nova Scotia that someone had told him about. We had kept it a secret for 12 years. I played dumb. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. It didn't work.

But like any other spot that has world class surf, the word gets out. An article is printed, a movie is made, some hot pro goes up and does a photo shoot, and
well that's that. It's over. The secret is secret no more. Believe me, I struggled with writing this even today. But I figured that 40 years is a long time. Besides, Nova Scotia is no secret today. Hardly. It has been printed in every surf mag since the late 80's. There are 100's of photos of Nova Scotia all over the Internet and beyond. It is not a secret anymore.

But 40 years ago when Jeff, Bruz, and myself discovered this Lost Frontier it was still very special. Still a part of the unknown. That mystique was still there. And it remained a secret for a few years that followed that first trip.

Surfing, and the adventure of finding new waves, still exists today. You just have to open your eyes and look. It's still out there. That perfect point break awaits you. Go out and make your own discovery like we did forty years ago this month. Go find that perfect wave. And whether or not you share it is up to you. Chances are someone will find out. So then you go back to finding new spots. That's what
surfing is my friends.

"Surfing Heals All Wounds..."