Jim Kempton profiled Joyce Hoffman for the December 1994 issue of Longboard magazine; all quotes here are pulled from that article. Hoffman was 47.


I went surfing on the weekends when my family lived on Balboa Island; I’d go tandem surfing with my Dad, ’cause he was a big tandem surfer. But then in the 8th grade we moved to Beach Road, in Capistrano. Poche [a local surf break] was right there in front of our house. A year later, my parents and I decided, ‘OK, let's pick one sport and really do it.’ We were looking at skiing; we knew Dave McCoy [founder of Mammoth Mountain Ski Resort], which mean I could go to stay with his family in winter and make skiing my deal. I'd also been training with the Orange Coast track and field team. But that was kind of far away from Capistrano. I was big on tennis, so we thought about that. And then surfing. Those were the choices, and my parents let me decide. But what kid living at the beach would pick moving away from home, or driving 20 miles to train, over surfing in your own backyard? Not me!


My hero was Phil Edwards. I copied him. I think that was kind of a transition. The women before me—Linda Merrill, Candy Calhoun, Linda Benson—they tended to not pattern themselves after the men. But there was nothing as good for my surfing as watching Phil. He was just so classic, truly a one-of-a-kind guy. Next to my Dad, Phil was the biggest influence on me.


I loved that break, Poche. Terrible wave, mostly, but a great place to learn, and a big advantage once I got into contests. The waves are usually so crummy by the time the finals come around. A lot of the other girls consistently surfed good waves, so when they’d get into that blown-out crashing beachbreak stuff in the finals, they didn’t know what to do with it. Not me. The worse it was, the better I was. I won all the trash contests.

 picked me as Woman of the Year in 1965. They've never picked a surfer for that sort of thing—before or since. It was unbelievable, the kind of coverage middle America gave surfing during those years! And lucky for me, I was right there, at the right moment. Five years earlier Linda Benson didn’t have near the mainstream recognition, nor did Margo Godfrey after me. Within the sport those two may have been as big as me. But outside of surfing they never got the kind of media attention I did.


When I began surfing, women were not always appreciated in the water. There were many occasions where I was physically challenged, yelled at, chased out of the water. Guys cut me off, shot their boards at me or just let me know I wasn’t welcome out there. I learned really quick that the only way to overcome that was to gain their respect. You had to get good enough so that whether you were a woman or not they would respect you for your abilities and share the water with you. As soon as they saw you could keep up, that you had talent, then it turned completely around. Guys like Butch Van Artsdalen or Fred Hemmings, they wanted nothing more than to help you.


I decided really early on that I was going to be the best at something. That goes back as long as I can remember. The competitiveness inside me—it’s the bane of my life in a lot of ways. If I start to get competitive in something, I have to win. So then I have to do nothing but that thing to ensure that I win. It can be unhealthy. Have you ever noticed how some of your best attributes can also be your worst? It’s hard for me to just have fun. My idea of having fun is being the best at something and winning all the time. And then of course that eventually takes the fun out of it.



I wasn't totally comfortable with that title, but that was what was expected, and so I just did it. The sport needed it, and I was willing to go along.


At a certain point, I had nothing left to prove and nothing left to gain. Nobody was giving out money. You could win a TV set, and I got to drive a great car because of my sponsor, Triumph. But there was nothing you could sink a professional career into.


I didn't start motocross until 1981. I was 33. There wasn’t even a women’s division. I'd race against guys in the 125cc class—they were mostly really young, like 16. I could have been their mother! I was kinda like surfing: you put that front wheel in the berm and gas it; it’s just like pulling a big bottom turn. You don’t go that fast, so you usually don’t kill yourself, but you get so much thrill out of it. I remember at the Carlsbad course you had this first turn where everybody goes for it, kind of like playing chicken. I had this one kid stuff me in the corner and take me down. I broke my arm. I got back up and raced the whole race. It was 30 minutes of hard jamming. I was so excited, I didn’t know how bad I was hurt. And I won the race! I got that kid who stuffed me on the last turn, the little punk!


Bikes are rougher, but a bad wipeout is scarier.


Lot’s of times I’ve wondered how my life would have turned out if I'd picked a different sport—skiing or tennis, things that I’d started with as a kid. Those were sports where I could have gone to the Olympics or made a pro career. I took the path of least resistance and once I’d decided surfing was gonna be my sport, that was it—every day, totally focused.

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