"PROFILE: MICHAEL HO," by RENO ABELLIRA (1977)

"Profile: Michael Ho," by Reno Abellira, ran in the January 1978 issue of SURFER. This version has been slightly edited.

* * *

In the highly pressure-sensitive world of professional surf contests, especially the events that take place on the North Shore, to be a winner often means that a surfer must harness more than sheer determination, skill, and guts. In the water, he’s got to be more “on,” he has to inject that extra something into his repertoire. Something that is perhaps intangibly ingrained, inbred, held back in waiting until the most timely moments.

In the case of one Michael Kaohelaulii Ho, this may well be all too true. And, if an important part of this young Hawaiian’s identity is that he is a keiki o ka aina, or child of the land, then it may seem only appropriate that he was not just born to surf but born to excel.

The oldest son of Joline and Edmund “Chico” Ho, a longtime beachboy, Michael arrived 20 years ago, on July 13, 1957. Michael is potage of Chinese, Hawaiian, and Caucasian, and thus reflects the blended and often cosmopolitan nature of Hawaii’s peoples. Mike is a Cancer, or moon child, considered a fruitful water sign.

I've had a close vantage point for the last two North Shore contest seasons. I could sense the come-ons and the letdowns. In terms of the contests, yes, the past two winters were generally felt to be decisively Australian dominated.

In that time, probably the hottest, most promising young pro from the Hawaiian camp has been Michael. From a somewhat obscure position as alternate in the 1975 Duke contest (in which he took a surprising runner-up behind Cairns at Waimea), Michael followed suit with another second in the ’76 Duke. A win in the Laura Ching Invitational, and more recently a win abroad in Japan, confirms his arrival in the big leagues.

Even with a lot of newfound attention coming his way, Michael still retains an air of privacy about him. He can be complex. Mike's casual demeanor and mellow disposition on land, along with his menehune-like build (5'5", 130 lbs) often belie an aggressive approach while in the water. His surfing might be described as radical-cool, reggae-spontaneous, uncut and raw, yet blow-dried Hawaiian style. Quick and accurate. In all sizes and kinds of waves, he is phenomenal. Given the opportunity, Michael can become an absolute tube monster.

Outside of Hawaii, Mike is somewhat of a new feature on the surf landscape, but for myself, we’re long-time friends. I’ve been fortunate to have observed his surfing growth from early on, to presently clocking numerous sessions together at Ala Moana, Velzyland, and Sunset—and sometimes I have the dismaying prospect of having to surf against him in a heat.

This happened most recently in Brazil, during the world tour pro, the Waimea 5000. I had effectively pumped Michael early on, pep-talking him into going out to beat Bronzed Aussie Mark Warren in their man-on-man dual. In the next heat, I won a tight one against Brazilian Dan Friedman. On the beach, Mike and I both knew we were now matched against each other, and averted direct eye contact. Finally, I snuck up behind him and put a loose half-nelson around his neck, and in a semi-growl told him, “I had to psych you up for that one, now I gotta psych you out!” As he slid out from under my slackened grip, we both laughed, taking up mock kung-fu stances. But a countback put me and Friedman in a tie, and as it turned out I didn’t have to surf against Michael. The point is, he is a constant threat to any pro, in any contest, anywhere. The North Shore will continue to be where he is most dangerous, but Mike will be in the hunt at every location around the world.

* * *

Michael and his lady Bryan rent a simple framed cottage on the point at Sunset Beach. Outside, pacing at chain’s length next to the garage, is Mike’s black bull terrier pup, Luke. Michael's best friends, Brian and Patti Surratt, live next door, along the walkway that leads out to the seawall at Backyards.

The Sunset point neighborhood is almost an island unto itself. It is set far off enough from the highway that the only sounds you hear are the palms swishing in the tradewinds, barking dogs, and kids' voices on the beach. It’s easy to see why Michael has a good fix on Sunset. From the livingroom window, you have good view of the bay itself, and the high curve of sand along the water. Rocky Point floats and glistens mirage-like in the distance.

Both of us lay proned out in his living room, succumbing to the midday heat; Mike on the rattan couch and me on the rug. I began our conversation by flashing on how long we'd known each, and when I first saw him surf—which of course was in Waikiki. Our early dues, both of us, were paid there. I asked about his early days at Waikiki.

"Actually, I started surfing at a place called Kumu Cove. You know, that place by Makapuu. We were living in Waimanalo, and it was close, so I’d just go down there. We used to camp there sometimes, the family, and later I’d go down after school and surf."

He reminisces about his primal wave encounter, and his father Chico's early influence on his surfing: “I remember my father would push me on the waves while my uncle waited on shore, and I’d try to hang on no matter what. If I fell and got washed around, they could grab me and pull me up easy. It wasn't a big distance between the two, just enough to psych me out!" We both chuckle, thinking back on those salty baptismal surf dips.

So what age were you when you started surfing Waikiki? “Six or seven. I was still borrowing boards, sometimes from the Downing boys, Keone and Kainoa.” (George Downing was then manager of the Waikiki Beach Center, and his kids were always equipped with mini-replicas of dad’s hot-pink guns. I, too, had been a stoked loanee.) “If you really want to get back there, George helped me out a lot when I was young.”

I ask Mike if he can recall the length of the boards he was on. “At first they were longer ones, but then everything when shorter, this was maybe 1967 or '68, so maybe 7'10" or 8'0", sort of kind of like the modified tankers that are coming back out nowadays.”

Michael then relates how an early contest experience went down: “I remember a Waikiki Junior meet one summer"—in the heyday of teams and clubs, Surf Club Hawaii annually put on the Kuhio Junior Surf Championships—"and the surf was kinda pumping. I could hardly swim, but I just went for it and almost drowned,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “It was a big move for kids to move from riding Baby Queens, to Canoes, to having to ride outside Queens where the meet was held and the biggest waves rolled through.”

I ask who his main competition was. "I had to surf against Larry Bertlemann a lot. We were both getting good. We used to be friends. Moving up, we didn’t really vibe each other out, but we kinda pushed each other’s surfing—because of the competition, we had to push even more.”

Feeling a bit nostalgic, I go off on a tangent about all the amazing surfing we got to see back then. First you had the older but still hot guys, like Rabbit Kekai. Then the younger guys like Donald Takayama, followed by David Nuuhiwa, BK, the Gerard brothers—all of them creating a surfing heritage for us gremmies. I asked Mike if he thinks this cycle is still happening for the kids out there now, or was it lost due to the nature of Waikiki today, the hotels and crowds of tourists, the tense pace of life? “I don’t really know," he answers. "It just seems like everyone out there now is really speedy. They’re all riding stingers and kinda surfing the same. You know, just wham-a-wham-a-rang. I watch these guys riding stingers and it seems like they’re just too stoked out on just how the board turns, instead of slowing it a little to turn in different parts of the wave. But I don’t know, they’re probably progressing. There's still a lot of hot surfers coming out of there, you know? Guys on top of it, still riding with style.”

He talks about making through all the main spots in Waikiki, all the way up to Ala Moana, and then finally driving out to Makaha. "I'd stay out there a lot," he says. "Even when the waves were way too giant, you could still try to go out, get pushed back and ride the inside, the whitewater waves.”

Does he still surf Makaha? "Yeah, I still really dig the place, but nowadays it’s much more crowded. It’s the best spot on that whole coast, and when the surf happens, that’s where everybody goes." He looks over and grins. “Remember those days a couple years ago when it was breaking from the Point through to the Bowl? Giant days! You and me were out, I think Aipa was too, and a couple other guys. I was going, Wow, man! I was worried. It kinda blew my mind. I mean, that was big. I like it better when it breaks from the outside Blow Hole and peels through the inside, you know, about eight feet. I'd rather be just hotdogging all over it!”

Moving on to the North Shore, Michael recalls an early experience at Haleiwa. "It was ten feet and just sucking out! I just went out after the other guys. I was about 13, maybe. I caught a wave and fell off right in the Toilet Bowl. Lost my board and these waves just kept coming, sucking me out. The guys in the lineup didn’t realize that I wasn’t okay. I can’t even remember getting in; I just found myself inside, somehow. Even now, it still freaks me out when I’m paddling out through there.”

We talk more about the North Shore. "I don’t have a favorite spot. I’ll just surf where the waves are happening. In fact, I still haven’t surfed all the spots out here yet.” Then, grinning slyly, he says, “We rode a secret spot a lot last year—there were plenty of glassy days, and it was happening!”

* * *

As the world pro tour continues to grow, Hawaii’s pros are increasingly making the commitment to travel abroad. Mike has been to Australia, Bali, Japan, and South America. What effect has this had on his head and his surfing? “Traveling does open up my surfing for competition, especially Australia. I’ve never been to a place where most of the surfing is like that, just really competitive all the time."

What does he think of the Australians’ surfing styles? “It varies, you know. You see all kinds of styles, from the real smooth to the real jumpy ones."

Speaking of Australians, where did Mike find himself during the Aussie hassles on the North Shore recently? “I think people were at first bummed out that the Aussies took all the meets that one year [1975–'76], but then they went home they did all that talk in the magazines. They acted like nobody reads the magazines. And then to go around here all egoed out . . ." his voice trails off.

Changing gears, we start talking board design and preferences, and I ask him about his new hotdog board, which lay on the floor a few feet away. It's a Dick Brewer, like most of Michael’s sticks over the past two years. “It’s 6' by 18.5", with kind of a stinger winger, but more like a double-winger, really.”

Looking at the shape, I ask Mike about other shapers. Right away, he credits an earlier mentor. “Ben Aipa made me good hotdog boards, helped me along, and I rode with him for a couple of years. Swallow tails at first, then he started trying all kinds of designs. I remember you were onto the tri-fin. He started making those too, then five-fins, and twin-fins." Michael stops for a moment. "I never could ride those twin-fins, though.”

We get back to Brewer. “He does what I want. He’s good about that. Like that board, I didn't want that kind at first, but I rode it for one day and was stoked. I flashed that I should’ve listened to RB earlier, ’cause he wanted to make me one way before this.”

I bring up the fact that Mike prefers to ride much shorter and narrower boards than most people. Does he feel like he's sacrificing flotation, and the number of waves he can catch, for tighter positions on the wave? “I’ve tried a 6'5" in 10-foot Sunset, even with strong offshores," he answers. "It was still working. But it depends. If the surf is 12 feet, I think I can still hotdog it, but if it’s really big and lined up, no way, I won’t surf a little board. I'm still trying to figure it out, you know? If it's 12 feet or under, I can ride a shorter board, take off more behind the peak, and still make it through. But then, again, sometimes if the waves are big and you go out with a gun, you feel like you can do more, still hotdog. I don’t know. I’ve just been trying the shorter ones. It didn't seem like anyone was trying that, so why not?"

How does Mike see himself in terms of big-wave surfing? "I know all the older guys have it more down. I still see it; I’m just trying to get it too."

What about the fear factor? "When it gets really big, I still get worried, yeah. More decisions, you know? I don’t paddle out and just go for any wave. If I’m on a peak and I can make it halfway down and get going, then yeah, I’ll go. But I'm not gonna force anything."

I ask about Waimea. "I don’t really know how to approach it yet. I have to think about the other people taking off, trying to vibe me, who's deeper, who's behind the boil. It's heavy. Like I’ve seen Shaun eat it badly. He got halfway down, but it was just too far behind, and it just cleared out from under him. I felt the impact go through my body. Every time I’m close enough to see guys eat it in that kind of spot, I’m thinking to myself, ‘Why did you do that; why’d you try for that?’"

And if the waves are neither big nor small, about eight feet or so? ‘‘If the waves are perfect, you know, I just freak out right on the beach! Sometimes I'll go for it until, badoosh! it just smashes me, and then I'll slow down a little. I respect the water around here. I know it’s heavy. Even when it's not huge, I know the water has more power than I do.

Near the end of our conversation, I ask Michael what Hawaiian-style surfing means to him. He gave it some thought. “To me, it means you don't just go for it in any kind of way; you have to feel out the wave. You can get radical, that's fine, but if it’s smooth, I can dig it. You don’t want to blow the grace of it.”

And finally—what of the future? Was he confident about maintaining a surfing lifestyle as a professional? “I’ve been surfing since I was a kid, so I’m gonna do it no matter what. For money? I figure, all right, you dig trophies when you’re a kid, but it does only so much when you’re older. You gotta have money. I guess I really just want to surf, and to do that I’ll try and be a professional. I feel pretty equal with the other pros. I know I have to be more businesslike, get more behind the sponsorships and stuff. I need to do that for sure. But yeah, I feel pretty stoked about it. The surfing part, especially—just keep gettin’ good boards and keep surfin’ it!” Michael spreads his smile out as he emphasizes those last two words.

We couldn’t have ended on a more positive note. Standing, I pick up my notes and step out the screen door, saying, “later, brah!” to Michael, whose next big move was to flip Rod Stewart over to Side Two.

I hop on my trusty, rusty bike and get a few pumps down Mike’s driveway when suddenly, just to my right, a black form lunges out of the shadows. I topple over, cursing.

It's Michael's dog, Luke, who thankfully is still leashed and recoils hard when he hits the end, at which point he trots back to his shaded spot next to the garage. The big dummy just stands there, tail wagging, drooling, and wearing what I swear looks like a smile. I remount and peddle on down the lane, wondering if it's true that pets can absorb their master’s personality traits. Michael certainly knows how to lunge into a wave with a smile on.